#not very prim and proper: elaine

[acourtofthought]

I'm not sure how long Elain and Graysen were together before they slept together but Feyre left the human lands and was UTM for 3 months. The sisters were made at the end of book two which was 7 months after that but Elain slept with Graysen for the first time 1 month before. And we have confirmation of Elain's engagement 40% of the way through MAF. So I'm guessing we can say with some certainty that Elain knew Graysen for at least 5 months before they slept together? Maybe more?

We also know through Nesta in SF that while in the human lands, they handled matters with a certain primness so I imagine Elain and Graysen's courtship was a tad formal with him being on his best behavior for most of it. Even when they did sleep together, it was customary of that era to treat your wife with a level of respect that you wouldn't of say, a mistress or harlot.

Elain and Az met for the first time while she was in the human lands. There is zero evidence that he was physically drawn to Elain at that time.

Even when he sat with her in the gardens or lent her Truth Teller, there is no evidence of physical attraction between the two (she called either his scars or siphons beautiful, not Azriel himself) therefore we still have no evidence that there was any sort of real attraction. Not like we have confirmation of with Az for Mor.

I'd say their mutual attraction sparked for the first time around Solstice (maybe for Elain a bit sooner considering Az was still looking at Mor with yearning) but regardless of when it happened, all they shared after was looks and the occasional brush of their fingers. All very PG stuff. Probably what Elain experienced in the human lands with Graysen.

So 10 / 11 months of knowing Az before there was anything that made it clear he might have interest in her in that way. In his POV we do get confirmation that he's been staring at his headache powder since the last Solstice but he mentions nothing of having feelings for her prior to that.

So Elain has had two possible love interests who were very "proper" in her presence. I'm sure Graysen wanted to hook up with her the second he saw her (he was a young male, it's not hard to make that assumption) but I don't imagine he let on that fact. I imagine he adhered to the standards of their societal expectations. And Az wasn't losing his mind over after first meeting her, he was fixated on Mor and even when he shifted some of the attention off Mor onto Elain, it was very subtle.

Is it not likely then, that Elain pulls back from Lucien because of how palpable his desire for her is, even from the start? Lucien controls it as best he can but we see him gripping chairs while reigning in his instincts. We see him accidently have a snarl / growl slip out. Cassian and Feyre can both see the longing on his face (which means Elain can too, she can probably feel his longing).

To Elain, Lucien Vanserra is basically the sterotype of the good Catholic girl being exposed to the definition of someone literally dripping with sex with his want for her as it's all over his face and I think she's a bit ashamed at how much she's drawn to that. I don't think she's ever felt someone's desire for her with the intensity she feels from Lucien and I think she's trying her damnedest to hold onto the "human primness" she was raised on as it's one of the final links to her humanity.

But every time Lucien is around, it becomes harder and harder to hold on to do so which is most likely why she shrinks into herself when he's near.

[corcracrow]

Somewhere, Across the Sea

Prologue:

A Party and a Privateer

taglist: @dreamlandreader @kingofsummer93 @leatherandtea @popjunkie42-blog @sanfangirl @shadowriel @sunbrightheart @sunshinebingo @tuzna-pesma-snova @visd3stele

(let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!)

(title from Across the Sea by Cody Simpson)

Elain woke to the canvas she'd been using as a blanket being pulled away. Blearily, she snatched at it. Then she froze. She'd clearly been discovered, and it seemed the best thing for it now was to attempt to regain her composure and think of some sort of explanation.

She lifted her mussed head from the deck, just in time to see a beautiful pair of leather boots come to a halt right before her nose.

"Well, well, well," a lilting, male voice said. "What have we here? A stowaway?"

~3 days prior~

Elain:

Elain Archeron was a proper lady, thank you very much. And not a proper lady as in the merchant’s wife, who dressed in garish clothing and liked to jingle her jewellery, but a proper lady as in a literal lady; daughter of the captain of the island’s fleet.

And she was certainly a proper lady, as in, beautiful and poised, unlikely to lose her head or her heart in the unsteady business of falling in love— and certainly not with a sailor, only to have him sail off and drown.

No, Elain was a dutiful, diligent, and dignified young woman, of high status and higher standards; calm, cool, and collected.

Or so she thought.

“Marianne,” Elain huffed, “is there any possible way you could starch the white muslin before we go? I can’t wear the pink again, it’s far too flirtatious.”

“I’ll do my best, my lady,” Marianne flounced a curtsy and bounced out of the room, Elain’s white muslin dress in her arms.

Elain heaved a sigh of relief and slumped back against her vanity chair. She didn’t really need the white muslin; it was too innocent and prim for its intended purpose. But she could do with a little peace and quiet.

All morning, she had been surrounded by maids and friends, fussing and preening over her in anticipation of tonight’s festivities.

It was to be a party, thrown by Elain’s father, Lord Archeron, in honour of the start of the summer season.

It was also meant to be the setting for Elain’s engagement.

The Lady Elain Archeron and Lord Graysen Nolan had been courting for a year now, and it was high time they made their engagement official. They were such a lovely and intelligent couple, and such a smart match. Elain, destined to be a wealthy heiress, was in need of a husband, and the Lord Graysen, about to take over his father’s shipping company, was in need of a wife. He had quickly decided that the lovely, warm Elain Archeron was the best candidate for such a position.

“And I’m sure her fortune doesn’t hurt, either!” Elain had heard the maids whisper.

She hadn’t concerned herself with that, however. Graysen was handsome, polite, and of good standing. Elain had been quite taken with him at the start, and she wasn’t about to let some whispered criticisms disrupt her carefully laid plans. She would gain a good position as a businessman’s wife, and he would gain her. It seemed quite a fair trade, by Elain’s reckoning.

But Elain was doing her best to savour her final day of freedom. Not that marrying Graysen would be stifling, of course, but– she felt a need for fresh air.

Elain opened her balcony doors and stepped into the cool sea breeze. The heat of the day hadn’t yet hit, and the air grazed her flushed cheeks as she gazed down at the tiny sailors, crawling about on the ships at port. Elain longed to see the sea. Perhaps one day, when Graysen’s business took him off to neighbouring countries, she could join him, dazzling foreign dignitaries and visiting the fabled Crysthall Gardens. The fact that Graysen’s mother never travelled didn’t bother her. After all, her frail nature was known throughout the island, and–

“My lady!”

Elain’s thoughts were rudely interrupted as Marianne burst through her door, cheeks flushed from running. Damn. Elain was hoping the starching would take her a bit longer than this.

“My lady!” Marianne repeated, tearing through Elain’s room to her balcony, the clearly forgotten muslin flying from her arms. “You’ll never guess who appeared in port!”

“Do calm down, Marianne,” Elain said in frustration. “You’ll wrinkle that muslin further.”

“Sorry, my lady. But look, down in berth 15.”

Elain leaned forward over the railing, and scanned down the harbour past her father’s ships to berth 15. She sighed as she made out the familiar flag of an empty eyed fox mask.

“Hm.” Elain tried to sound unaffected. “So, that Pirate is back.”

Marianne gave a half sigh, half squeal, before straightening, eyes bright. “Do you think he’ll be at your engagement party tonight, milady?”

“Oh, Mother, I hope not. If I know anything about that man, he’ll find a way to ruin everything.”

In truth, Elain did not know much about the man at all. She’d seen the maids crowding about the windows when he passed and had once or twice peered through her own curtains, hoping to catch a glimpse of the flaming red hair of the reputed flirt. She’d heard other captains mention him, some with jealousy, some with respect, and a few with open disgust. And she’d certainly heard his name mixed up in quite a few scandals, though it was difficult to get anything resembling sense out of Marianne when it came to such things.

It was always difficult to get a solid sense of knowledge when it came to a captain’s reputation.

Yet Elain certainly got the sense (in the one or two times a year his ship stopped at the Island) that he was every bit the swashbuckling, cunning, and rakish rogue she’d heard of. Exactly the kind of person she loathed.

They were quite alright for romance books, or princess stories, but Elain knew not to get mixed up with that sort of person. Privateers in particular were, as her father put it, “licensed pirates.” They had a bit of allure, perhaps, or a breath of the sea about them, but they were a shortcut to trouble. No, much better were high-ranking merchants, or even foreign princes. Sweet and sincere, with little drama and plenty of romance. Someone like Graysen.

“Come away from there, Marianne.” Elain knew she sounded curt. A girl had a right to be a bit curt on the day of her engagement. “If we don’t get my hair finished now, it will never be done.”

Marianne cast a regretful glance down to the ships, and went to fetch the diamond pins.

[crazy-ache]

wait what if she’s a brown and white kitty? to match her hair colouring?

we need to see little miss elain trying to be all prim and proper but lucien gives her some scratchies and she’s like f that, more!

“you’re so full of rage for a lil ball of fluff, aren’t you?” cut to elain attempting to scowl but she’s is purring like a faulty car engine and she’s like “it’s hard to be demure and cutesy in this traitorous body lick lick”

Ok anon I can accept brown coloring. I picked white originally because of Marie/Duchess from the Aristocats and because I am picturing Cat!Elain being so prim and proper but being found by Lucien when she's pathetically covered in mud. But I agree, we can work in some brown coloring too with the white.

Elain will be battling many animal instincts such as purring, making biscuits, head butting, and playing with balls of yarn which are all Lucien's fault and she is very upset by these uncontrollable feelings.

Cat Elain is very demure. Very mindful. Except does Lucien have to sleep without a shirt on and does he have to be so warm and sweet?

Cause yeah....not so demure thoughts then.

[shedoessoshedoes]

3 brothers x 3 sisters as Beverages I Like To Consume, a collection:

Elain: Matcha (specifically the matcha strawberry spritz my local coffeeshop has currently)

Azriel: Cold brew with cold foam (bitter, but with a little bit of sweetness to help make it bearable)

Rhys: Iced white chocolate mocha (there's no such thing as too sweet)

Feyre: Caffeinated sparkling water (specifically the bubblr brand very popular in the midwestern us where I live. technically still hydrating, but invigorating, too)

Cassian: Chai (occasionally with a shot of espresso. he will also accept any kind of black tea, really. with lots of sugar.)

Nesta: Hot earl grey tea (prim. proper. classic. she does also drink chai with cats daily. her beverage e diet is a tea-only one.)

Thank you for coming to my tedtalk.

[choicesfrog]

The Royal Romance (OC)

Name: Eloise Park

Age: 24

Pronouns: She/Her

LI: Hana

Hobbies: Dancing, Reading, Playing Piano, Painting

Eloise is the sixth child of the Park clan. Though she’s somewhat of a middle child, she definitely wasn’t lost in the shuffle. Similar in personality, temperament, as well as having similar interests to her grandparent and one of her mothers, she was doted on as much as if she were a youngest child.

Eloise is prim, proper, and loves all things pretty. As a child, she was probably a bit overdressed for school, but she loves wearing fancy dresses. She’s also a voracious reader and learned to read at age four. She started piano and dance lessons not too long after. When she was in high school, she began taking ballroom dancing lessons.

Eloise also learned a lot of proper royal etiquette from her grandparent. While not born into nobility themself, they did grow up as a member of a wealthy British family before coming to America. In a lot of ways, Eloise was more prepared to be part of the social season than her friend Elaine. In fact she ended up helping Elaine out when she could (so that job wouldn’t fall solely on Hana).

Instead, she ended up following her to Cordonia because to Eloise the whole premise of her supposedly meeting a prince and a random noble offering to sponsor her seemed super sketchy, and she wanted to make sure her friend wasn’t getting into something more dangerous.

Due to her grandparent’s family having a long history and being widely spread through both Europe and the states, Eloise claimed to be a part of that family, and it was enough to allow her to travel along with the rest of the nobles. Of course Elaine, Liam, Hana, Maxwell, and Drake knew the truth, but they promised not reveal her secret. She was very upfront with all of them. She was also quite upfront about not trying to win Liam’s hand. As a lesbian, she had no interest.

Eloise was not a fan of most of the other ladies at court, especially after what happened at the coronation, and though they knew of her dislike of them, she maintained a civil and polite relationship in public. In private, she avoided them. Out of everyone, she really only respected and got along with Kiara. She admires Kiara’s ambition. Eloise also knows French, and she and Kiara had a bit of fun having conversations in it when they wanted to speak in private. Eloise is wary of Olivia, and outright disgusted by Madeleine’s treatment of Hana. She was indifferent towards Penelope until she learned that she was part of the plot against Elaine.

What Eloise didn’t expect was to fall in love during her time in Cordonia. She was immediately attracted to Hana, but she wasn’t sure if Hana felt the same way. She also knew all the pressure Hana was under from her parents to win Liam’s hand, so she decided not to push things and was happy to befriend her.

Eloise also was able to quickly figure out that there was a lot more to how Hana’s parents treated her than she was letting on. The isolation, the abuse, being forced to earn their affection all reminded her of how her grandfather described his upbringing before he was disowned from his family. Eloise wanted to help Hana to get out of her bad situation, but she also knew it wasn’t easy. She just let Hana know she was there for her if she wanted to vent, cry, or just escape her problems for a while. While she was glad Elaine encouraged Hana to stand up to her parents, she also knew that could make abusive situations worse.

Spending time with Hana, she realized they had a lot in common. Both had a love of reading, flowers, and playing the piano. At Olivia’s estate after Hana played for her, Eloise played a song for Hana. The two of them spent the rest of the night laughing and playing together. They became very close during the social season and spent time swapping book recommendations, talking about music, watching shows together (there was so much Hana had never seen, and Eloise was the one who showed her some of the dance movies/competition shows she mentioned studying when she had her dance battle with Maxwell). They talked about their hopes and dreams and everything in between.

There were little romantic moments shared between the two. Some handholding, gentle reassuring touches here and there, and they even waltzed together a few times. Nothing had progressed very far until Hana was forced to leave at the end of the season. After sharing their first kiss together, and having such a heartfelt confession of their feelings, Eloise was determined she’d see Hana again. She almost flew to Shanghai, afraid that Hana’s parents wouldn’t let her come back to be one of Madeleine’s ladies in waiting.

The two continued to grow closer and spent even more time together during the engagement tour. Eloise became very protective towards Hana and kept a close eye on her, especially after Madeleine admitted to wanting to “break her” (Eloise came very close to slapping her to wipe that smirk off her face), and after Hana’s falling out with her father. She spent time with Hana trying to find a place for her to stay and helping her think about what she truly wanted from life.

Hana and Eloise both decided to move to Castelsarreillan and eventually moved in together. The two became engaged during the Unity Tour and were married about a year later. Hana and Eloise meet with Kiara often since they live nearby, and travel to the capital to see their friends there. They sometimes go to visit Eloise’s family, and sometimes her family comes to them. Hana still has a very rocky relationship with her parents, and she’s taking the time to heal. She occasionally will call or visit her father, but it’s on her terms. Hana isn’t quite sure if her relationship with her mother is something she wants to continue.

Hana and Eloise enjoy a happy and quiet life, Hana working at a library and Eloise teaching dance lessons to children. They both also teach piano on the side. They plan on having at least two children, as they each want to experience pregnancy, but they could expand their family beyond that.

A few more random facts:

Hana was Eloise’s first everything. She was really glad she didn’t have to say anything about her first kiss because she hadn’t had one yet. Though Eloise had several crushes growing up, she never acted on her feelings.

Since Eloise grew up with several other lgbtq+ family and friends and lived in a generally very accepting community, she came to terms with and became comfortable with her sexuality pretty early on. Once Hana felt more comfortable admitting she was also interested in women (I headcannon her as bisexual), Eloise was there to support her and answer any questions she might have.

The night of the coronation, Eloise painted a portrait of Hana as something to remember her by during their time apart.

Like most of her family, Eloise is a big cat person.

Eloise can speak English, Spanish, French, and also knows a little bit of Latin.

On rainy days, Eloise and Hana like to snuggle together under a blanket and read.

Eloise’s family was very worried about her with everything that happened in Cordonia, but since she’s rather stubborn, she insisted on staying to help her friends. That didn’t keep them from calling her daily to check on her.

[xrder-xf-the-bear]

😬 - Kenna!

“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII’M totally fine,” Elaine says through gritted teeth. “So was anyone gonna actually tell me about this any sooner than this, or was I supposed to find out after my arrival in casual conversation, Kenna?”

She runs a hand through her hair. “No. Okay. How long has he been here? What precautions have you taken? DOES. HE. KNOW? Does he even know about any of us being here, does he know you and Melinda have magic, does he-- fucking shit, how long has this been a thing?!”

[nxttheendxfthestxryarch2]

“Our assignment in English or whatever the fucking Auradonian name of that fucking class is I don’t pay attention and I don’t care point is the assignment is to write about who we are and our own unique identities. And I have one thing to say to that: my fucking what?”

[theladyofbloodshed]

I was reading buffer and it got me thinking all the sisters bar nesta had a good first time with someone they chose yet nesta got with some rando that probably didn’t care about her pleasure. And that’s not even including her assault. Seriously Sarah did everything to screw over nesta

I’ve seen people say that sjm doesn’t like to write first times which is fair enough but they can be written softly. I think I’ve written 4 now and they don’t have to be written with all the roaring and pounding sjm is so fond of. The fact that she’s written that Nesta can’t even remember who it was properly is so sad when Nesta was brought up believing her first time would be to her husband 😭

Nesta got very rough sex after she’d been attacked by the kelpie. Cassian should have recognised that she latched onto that as a coping mechanism and actually took care of her since he says her body is brutalised and Amren says she looks like a cat tried to eat her 🤷🏻‍♀️ Idk how he could have sex with her when she was so badly beaten up. Disgusting behaviour tbh. I don’t care if Nesta asked for it, she wasn’t in the right place of mind. If she’d asked for a bottle of vodka, they wouldn’t have given that to her.

I also get that people say Nesta just “gave away” her virginity because it was a sign that she had lost all value in herself. I’m on the fence with it. One on hand yes I can see that happening, on the other not at all.

Nesta was taught to pride her virginity. Except for the two brief kisses with Cassian, I don’t think Nesta had even kissed somebody before. Her mother taught her that her only value came from between her legs essentially. So yeah I can see her just sleeping with anybody because she doesn’t care anymore about herself.

But at the same time I can’t see her compromising that. She was never really a drinker. She’s never hungover or drinking to excess with the ic and then she does a sudden 180 and she’s apparently getting wasted every night. I see Nesta as an introvert who forces herself to be amongst people as it’s expected but she can’t wait to be alone so I don’t see her inviting random men into her house. She’s too smart to go home with random guys and not recognise the risk (but that feeds into her not caring about herself). And I can’t imagine her taking two men home which she mentions doing briefly. She trusted Tomas - a boy she’d known for years - and he attacked her. I just don’t see Nesta meeting a stranger and bringing him home no matter how drunk she is because her warning bells would be going off.

She was taught to be modest for 25 years and that she should marry - I just can’t see her compromising that so quickly or without feeling deep shame that she did especially in prythian a place which she still kind of resents at this point. I can imagine her still being repulsed by fae males on principle. I also think she would have still harboured feelings for Cassian since that was her first kiss, they had the declaration when they were about to die etc and I just see her has a hopeless romantic who would be still thinking about it every day.

I can see Nesta spiralling but I’d have had her exile herself. Doesn’t ever leave the house. Might go out once a week to buy groceries that go mouldy. Spends most of the day under the covers completely numb. Has no energy to cook or clean. No joy in anything. Just sleeping all the time. But that’s too similar to Elain so Nesta had to be punished for her depression instead of being looked after and loved 😭😭😭

*Also virginity is a social construct but Nesta was taught that it was something valuable and believed it was - I don’t agree with it but that’s how prim and proper Nesta was brought up 🤷🏻‍♀️

[sad-scarred-sassy]

My masterlist

Hi! Find me on AO3: sad_and_scarred

Elucien fanfics 🔥🌸🌞

The luck of the draw - Rated E (Multi-chapter)

Elain Archeron is determined to end her unwanted mating bond with Lucien Vanserra. She has resigned herself to a loveless life, convinced she will never be able to experience true love without the fabricated weight of an assigned mate.

Her plans take a sharp turn when her mate arrives with a proposition to accompany him on a mission to a foreign court. When no one else believes her capable of succeeding Elain decides to prove to herself and others that she is not as hopeless as everyone else thought. (WIP)

Read on AO3 Read an excerpt here 🪻💐

Wicked thing - Rated M (One shot)

Based on this post by @theladyofbloodshed : “What happens when Lucien and Elain ride a horse through the continent together and she gradually leans against his chest as they ride? What happens when he rests his cheek against her? What then???”

But make it spicy.

Read on AO3 🐴✨

Prim and proper - Rated E (one-shot)

Elain lets herself enjoy her mate, all of him, with no shame for the first time and Lucien is very happy about it.

Read on AO3 🌷

I’ll meet you after dark - Rated E (Multi-chapter)

Elain Archeron stumbles upon a beautiful fae male in the middle of the forest.

Read on AO3 🍃

Feylin fanfics🥀

The tragedy of spring - Rated E (Multi-chapter)

After dying and getting resurrected during her childbirth, Feyre Archeron begins to question everything she had believed to be true.

Feeling lonely, lost and betrayed, she ends up in front of the one she had vowed to never see again.

This is a mini series of one shots and conversations in which I explore what would happen if Feyre realizes she’s been manipulated for a long time by the one she had trusted blindly, and maybe the things she had thought to be true, are more complicated than they seemed.

Read on AO3

Neris fanfics❤️‍🔥

Light me up🐉🔥 | Rated E (Two-part)

Nesta Archeron is given as a living sacrifice to the dragon of Velaris. The only problem is he doesn’t want anything to do with it.

Read on AO3

🎨Fanart

Try not to stare challenge: level impossible - Elucien

You are so gorgeous, it makes me so mad - Elucien

The monarchs - Elucien

Lucien Vanserra - Character sheet

I’d fuel the pyre of your enemies - Neris

Dragon!Eris - Eris Vanserra

[acourtofthought]

I don’t understand that elriel’s argument lmao. would ANYONE wanna imagine their sister and friend having sex?? 😭🤢

when I read that scene the first time, I honestly just interpreted it as feyre being grossed out, while already expecting the future of elain and lucien together. like it was already a tangible idea in her head, if that makes sense. definitely not feyre being grossed out by lucien, which is ridiculous given that she basically called him hot in the same portion of acowar. also there was no point to sjm saying that about autumn males if nothing was gonna come from it.

I do understand they were just trying to lend examples to their "Feyre is an E/riel shipper" rhetoric but that is not really one that supports their cause in the way they think it does.

I do get what you're saying too, Feyre knows it's a possibility because Lucien, an Autumn Court male, is her Mate.

And I do think they are misinterpreting the meaning behind that scene. Feyre and Nesta both struggle with seeing Elain as a grown female who is capable of sexual desire beyond "making love" while engaged. They think of her as someone who needs protecting and is prim and proper and I do understand that she might come across to them in that way, she was uncomfortable talking about periods with Feyre and she doesn't saying things like "fucking" but the Elain as she is with a love interest or even her closest friends and the Elain to the rest of the world and her SISTERS might be two very different people. Feyre not being able to imagine her subject to that "fire" (which is not a "love making" kind of love) and Nesta thinking Elain would be appalled at her fantasies of a threesome or that Nesta has had threesomes is really just based on the fact that they don't truly know Elain on an intimate level (I don't mean romantic intimacy).

Something else that's funny to me is they think Cassian saying, "but Elain in black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court....it sucked the life out of her" is going to result in her "revenge black dress" moment where she shows him how she works black like a model on a catwalk.

But Feyre thinking Elain couldn't handle Lucien's fire means she's not going to end up with Lucien.

My take on it is that Cassian is a neutral party when it comes to Elain. He hasn't spent years in the role of Elain's protector or as the big brother to her. I think he sees Elain for who she is in a way that her sisters don't. After all it was Nesta who thought Elain was loyal like a dog to whoever kept her in comfort whereas Cassian was the one who said she was wrong, that Elain saw everything Nesta did and understood her reasons for it. And it's Feyre, even after spending all this time around Elain in the NC still only thinks of her as a pleasant companion.

Az, another "protector" of Elain's thinks she shouldn't be exposed to things like the darkness of the trove. He also claims Elain has no interest in Lucien and that Lucien will never be good enough for her.

So I think if we're going to see Elain proving anything to anyone, it's not going to be Cassian who really has no skin in the game when it comes to what Elain does or doesn't do, it's going to be her proving herself to the "protectors" that put her in a little box of who they think she is or what she should be doing.

And that is Elain showing Feyre that she can handle the "fire" that comes along with an Autumn Court male. That she herself probably has crazier fantasies than even Nesta does or maybe will perform the Great Rite in front of everyone. And that she does have interest in Lucien that she's been trying to avoid giving into. That she is going to end up with her mate who is 100% good enough for her.

[bookofmirth]

just casually thinking about how foolish of sarah it would be to not use the potential of band of exiles and elain. they'll put her ass on fire with their teasing about everything

Elain BLUSHING so hard the first time that she meets them head-on with a particularly raunchy zinger. They give her so much shit about it, and it might take her a couple of drinks but she lightens up and starts to say all the things she has thought but never dared say out loud, and the Band of Exiles are like "Lucien, WHO did you get mated to??" And he's just looking at her like a beautiful, clever, kind but astute woman who has chosen him.

And when she accidentally lets that side of her slip in front of Feyre and Nesta and they are like... who is this???

Elain and Vassa just exchange a glance and cackle in a way that her family has never seen from Elain. Except Lucien, of course.

Elain just has this very prim and proper side, but around the right people she will let her guard down.

[nikethestatue]

Hey, I like your blog a lot. Here is one for you-what do you think the IC are like in bed? I have thoughts, but want to hear what others think? Sorry if it's inappropriate.

Thank you! 

Finally, a sex question! LOL 

It’s okay, I am pretty inappropriate if I want to be, so no such thing really.

Rhysand - I think he’s done EVERYTHING that you can imagine. With everyone. He is (canonically) bi-sexual, so I think he’s been involved with both sexes throughout his life. I imagine that UtM, there were just lots of orgies all the time, because they were all bored, and I think it was generally encouraged. (My headcanon is that he and Eris had a clandestine relationship UtM, that’s why Eris and he were able to quickly agree on cooperation) Another headcanon is that Rhys is a sub.

Feyre-little vanilla cake, with vanilla frosting, deep fried in white chocolate sauce.

Amren - Varian? My read on her was that she possessed no organs or desires prior to becoming Fae. So there was nothing happening. Hence Varian is her only foray into anything sexual. (Never understood how she and Varian had sex during the war, because it sounded like she chose the female ‘form’ but didn’t have any function? I don’t know.)

Mor - she explained what and how and when in the book. 

Cassian - I imagine he’s had lots and lots of females throughout his history. No meaningful relationships however, until Nesta. Imagine there were males too, when he was young, in the camps. We had an entire book describing him in painful detail, so no need to rehash. Basically, he is in love with Nesta and babbles a lot during sex. 

Nesta - tried everything. Males, females, threesomes. Likes a mountain of muscle called Cassian. Not looking for anything else. 

Elain - not enough information as of yet, but... Once unleashed, could potentially be very curious and experimental. I don’t think that she is as prim and proper as everyone assumes she is, even if she freaks out about wearing pants and period talks. She’s had premarital sex. Not very ladylike! And we assume she liked it, because she looked happy about it. She’s also refused to accept the bond, even if it’s the ‘proper’ thing to do. Sneaks around and seeks out the hot Illyrian, while her mate sleeps upstairs. 

Azriel - likes control. Most likely a dom. Sort of a romantic at heart? 

Not IC, but kind of involved with them:

Lucien - kind of a ladies man. Probably had something with Tamlin, though got bored of Tamlin’s boring ways, and probably gently broke it off. Imagine that it caused some conflict between them. My assumption is that he is either bi or into polyamory. 

Tamlin - boring. Doesn’t mind slut shaming women, while he’s had over 400 (at least). How do I know? About 500 years old, born soon after the war. Annual Calanmai hook up--that’s at least 350 or so. Do the math. 

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {6}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: In case you were missing your dose of Feysand.

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

Nesta’s door was locked. 

So, naturally, Feyre began pounding on it.

A minute later, Nesta swung open her door, wrapping a robe around her nightgown, looking exhausted and utterly annoyed.

“What could you possibly need at this hour?” Nesta snapped, before taking in her sister's apparel. “What on earth are you wearing?”

Feyre pushed past Nesta and made her way inside before she spoke a word.

“By all means,” Nesta sighed, “make yourself comfortable.”

Feyre strode to the ignited fireplace and began to pace. “So, I was downstairs, right? And guess what I saw.”

Nesta groaned, shutting her door and leaning against it. “What? And this better be good, because you woke me from the most lovely dream.”

“Elain and the butler.”

Nesta blinked as Feyre stared at her, awaiting any sort of reaction. “So?”

“No, you don’t understand,” Feyre began. “They were outside, holding hands, laughing, walking...somewhere, I don’t know, I didn’t wait to find out.”

Nesta lifted a brow. “You think Elain is sneaking around with a butler?” She scrunched her nose. “Which? They’re all old-“

“Azriel’s not,” Feyre said.

The two sisters stared at one another.

“I don’t understand,” Nesta said, at last. “Is this a dream? I’m certain I’m still asleep. It’s the only logical explanation as to why you’re wearing men’s clothing.”

“Elain and butler Azriel have...a thing,” Feyre said, as if it were obvious. 

Nesta sighed, rubbing her temples. “Can we do this in the morning? I’m exhausted.”

“Do you not have any concern?” Feyre asked, incredulously. “Elain is outside in the middle of the night sneaking around with the help!”

Nesta shook her head. “And since when did you become so prim and proper?” 

Feyre’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t go judging me. I’m just saying, we have no idea where they’ve gone or what they’re doing.” 

“Go to bed, Feyre,” Nesta sighed, pushing herself off the door to trek back toward her bed. ��It’s late and you’re seeing things.”

“I know what I saw-”

“You always do this when father leaves,” she said. “Try to cause chaos. Well, it will not work, not tonight. Go to bed and let me sleep.”

“I’m being serio-”

“You are delusional,” Nesta said, removing her robe and hanging it up. “Go to bed.”

“But I-”

“Bed,” Nesta demanded. “Unless you’d like to further explain your choice of wardrobe.” 

It took everything within Feyre not to grab her eldest sister by the shoulders and shake her until she listened, but it would do no good. Nesta was as stubborn as she was cold. Feyre should have known she would not believe her. 

“Fine,” Feyre said, through gritted teeth. “I’m leaving.”

Nesta did not bother to say goodnight as her sister left her room and slammed the door behind her.

Feyre did not go back toward her room, however. Instead, she hurried back downstairs, out the window, and into the woods. As she began her walk toward the village, she saw no sign of Elain or the butler, making her second guess herself.

Perhaps she had been seeing things. Perhaps she had been going mad. 

Or perhaps the pork roast from supper had just been settling wrong, which was always a possibility. 

She put the thought in the back of her mind once she arrived at the gambling house, her mind now ready to swindle drunk idiots out of their money. She quickly found a seat at a table and joined the fun, careful to keep her cap pulled down low.

Hours passed before a young barmaid approached her, although the girl did not have a cup.

“A gentleman asked me to give you this,” she whispered, pressing a small letter into Feyre’s hand.

Feyre blinked. “Which gentleman?”

She took a quick look around, but saw no gentleman, just the usual crowd that hung around there. 

Without a word, Feyre took the letter and nodded her thanks. The maid scurried away as Feyre broke the seal. In perfect penmanship, it read,

I figured it was you or a boy out past his bedtime. You do know that gambling is illegal, do you not? And surely not appropriate for a Lady. Meet me outside. Try not to attract any hoodlums in the alley. I am wearing a new pair of boots and would hate to scuff them fighting for your honor.

Again.

She tore the letter in half before grabbing her winnings, pushing herself from the table, and storming out the front door.

She looked around frantically, suddenly feeling violated. Had he been following her? She thought he had returned to Velaris after the ball. 

Yet, there he was, leaning against the building across the street that had been closed for the night. His black waistcoat made his violet eyes glow brighter as they caught Feyre, storming toward him.

“What is this?” she demanded, holding up the torn letter.

The young Lord Rhysand lifted a brow. “A pleasantry.”

“A pleasantry?” Feyre laughed, humorless. “You offend me then demand that I meet you outside. And do not go on acting as if you are a hero.” 

“It worked,” Rhysand grinned, “did it not?”

Feyre’s lips snapped shut before she threw the letter into his chest. “You are……a complete ass!”

Rhysand’s head tilted to the side. “I have never met a Lady with a mouth such as yours, Feyre darling.” 

“What are you doing here?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Why are you here? Had you not gone home?”

“I was going to, but then I received word just before we were to leave that kept me local,” he shrugged, saying no more. “I shall be around for a few weeks, yet.”

“That sounds shady,” Feyre said, words clipped. “Are you a mercenary?”

Rhysand chuckled. “Yes, I am a Lord and a mercenary. Many frown upon it, but I have come to accept the judgment.” 

Feyre shook her head. “Well, I do not care that you remain here. All I care about is that you leave me be.”

She went to take a step back, to go back inside of the gambling house, but a broad hand reached out and stopped her, wrapping around her slim wrist.

“You cannot go back in there,” he said, voice low. “Allow me to take you home.” 

She attempted to snatch her hand away, but could not get free from his grasp. “Let go. You have no right to order me around.” 

“No,” he said, eyes growing uncharacteristically dark. “Trust me.”

“But I do not trust you,” she spat. “I do not know you.”

That grin returned, although it did not meet his eyes, the eyes that bore into her own. “I’m taking you home.”

“Let go!” 

As the word escaped her, an explosion sounded.

Feyre was thrown to the ground, Rhysand’s broad frame lying on top of hers. A ringing in her ear told her the explosion had been near, and when she opened her eyes, she saw through Rhysand’s arm that a wall of the gambling house had been blown out. A moment later, the world caught up with her, and men and women were screaming as dust and debris covered the street around them.

“Gods, did you plan this?” Feyre screamed, although she was hardly heard above the chaos. “You are a mercenary!” 

Rhysand said nothing as he hauled her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and hurried down the street. No matter how much Feyre fought against him, no matter how much she screamed, he did not budge, and no one bothered to stop the pair. From an outsider’s eye, they probably saw a man dragging his little brother home, kicking and screaming. Besides, people were bleeding out and injured, or in complete and utter shock. They had much bigger things to worry about. 

When they had gone further down the street, Feyre was thrown onto the back of a horse, and the moment she brought herself to sitting position, Rhysand was already behind her, his arms wrapped around her, digging his heels into the horse’s side. They rode for a moment before the horse was brought to a casual trot, and Rhysand let out a long, loose breath.

Feyre, just now gaining her composure, yelled into the silence, “What the hell was that? Who are you? Why-”

“Do you truly think I am capable of such madness?” Rhysand asked, quietly and calmly.

Feyre tossed her hands into the air. “How should I know? I do not know you!”

“I had overheard a pair talking about it in the tavern,” Rhysand explained. “I went to see if you would be there, which I did, and figured I could either storm in and take you out, most likely provoking a public fight, or write you a letter that angered you enough to get you out the door. Which worked, it seemed, although I got the timing a little bit off. The explosion happened sooner than expected. Either way, you are safe, so we shall mark it a success.” Feyre’s mouth hung open, utterly speechless. “You- I- what? Why do you even care? We do not-”

“If you tell me that we do not know each other one more time, Feyre, darling, my heart will truly break. I could not have my future wife being blown to pieces in a lowly gambling house, could I?”

Feyre looked over her shoulder to glare at the Lord, but her eyes soon softened. “You are bleeding.”

Rhysand followed her gaze and reached to his forehead. True enough, his fingers pulled away, the tips covered in crimson. “I have had worse injuries.” 

“Allow me to clean the wound. It is the least I can do.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows lifted. “Your words are kind, but your tone is not. I am confused.”

She turned away from him. “Fine, you do not want my help? I will gladly-”

“There is an inn up ahead,” Rhysand explained. “We can stop there a moment.”

From Feyre’s home to the village was but a twenty minute jog through the woods, but traveling along the winding road did add some time, even on horseback. 

“Very well,” Feyre said, the night’s events having exhausted her. She was all out of fight. 

The inn appeared a moment later, a lantern lit next to a sign that read, Isobel’s Inn. Feyre had never noticed it before and she instantly felt awful, considering she must have passed it a thousand’s times.

Was she truly so shallow that she did not pay attention to local businesses?

Rhysand helped her off the horse and handed the reins to a stableboy, who led the mare away. There were no judgemental looks as Feyre followed Rhysand up the wooden staircase and into a far room. 

The room was small, certainly not one made to house a Lord. A simple desk sat against the wall, holding a book and a stationary set, and aside from the bed, the fireplace, and a wardrobe, nothing else remained. 

“Most would deem this inappropriate,” Feyre said. “A Lady and a Gentleman alone together at an inn.”

Rhysand chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I promise not to steal your virtue.” 

“My virtue is not what I am worried about,” Feyre mumbled, taking a bowl from the desk and scurrying down the hall. She was back a moment later, the bowl half full of warm water. Once she set it down, she tore off a piece of the bottom of her undershirt.

She dipped the fabric in the water, then brought it to Rhysand’s forehead. He cringed but did not move as she cleaned off the blood around his cut.

“You said you overheard of the explosion at the tavern,” Feyre began, her voice sounding far louder than expected among the silence. “Who were the men? Why an explosion? I have lived here my entire life and there is not much violence.”

Rhysand chuckled, although he did not seem amused. “There is violence everywhere, Feyre. Perhaps not for people like you and me, but for most, violence is everywhere.”

Feyre let his words sink in a moment, realizing just how much of a little world she had been living in within her manor. Except for the past few months where she had begun sneaking out of the house at night, Feyre’s outings consisted of social calls, parties, and dress fittings. 

“But, I do not know the men who did it nor the motive,” Rhysand said. “I heard explosion and gambling house and came hurrying.”

He was watching her work, and Feyre tried her hardest not to meet his eyes, even as her cheeks turned pink.

“Well, it’s done bleeding, so that is good,” Feyre mumbled, dabbing against his skin. She dipped the rag in the water, the liquid turning a soft shade of pink as she brought the rag back to his skin. “But, it was a deep cut. You should no longer throw yourself over women. Being a hero could seriously endanger your handsome complexion.”

“So, you think I’m handsome?” he grinned. “And, you have changed your mind: you now admit I am, in fact, a hero.” 

Feyre glanced down at the man sitting on the foot of the bed below her. “I think you are an ass.”

“So you have mentioned,” he chuckled, allowing her to finish cleaning his wound.

The room was silent as she worked, but once a moment passed, she said, “Thank you...for helping me. I have done nothing to deserve that.”

“You deserve more than you believe you do,” he said, quietly. “I would know.”

“Oh?” Feyre asked, putting the bloodied rag in the bowl, having finished cleaning. “And why would you know?”

Rhysand watched as she took a step back and observed his newly cleaned wound. It would surely leave a scar, but certainly did not have to be sewn up. His smile softened, and Feyre did not allow him to see the effect such a look had on her. 

“I cannot share all of my secrets,” Rhysand said, quietly. Feyre suddenly felt as if the room had shrunk in size. 

Feyre chuckled, wiping her hands on her trousers as she sat in the wooden chair by the writing desk. “Why do I feel like you have many secrets?”

Rhysand lifted a brow. “Perhaps I do. But, secrets are not all bad.” 

“No?” Feyre asked. “I beg to differ.”

Rhysand chuckled. “Is that so?”

Feyre shrugged. The silence resumed, but Feyre could not sit still. “Well, I suppose I shall head home.”

“I’ll-”

“No, thank you,” Feyre interrupted, rising to her feet. “The manor is only a few miles up the road. I will cut through the woods, and all will be well.” 

“But I can-”

“You injured yourself for me,” Feyre said, shaking her head. “Rest. I have gone through the woods a hundred times, nothing has happened to me yet, and nothing will happen to me now.”

Rhysand opened his mouth to argue, but Feyre would not have it. “Goodnight, Rhysand.”

Before Rhysand could say goodnight, Feyre was already out the door, walking down the hall of the inn.

~~~~~

The sisters all came together the next morning for breakfast.

It was quiet as they picked at their plates.

Elain seemed overjoyed while Feyre seemed exhausted.

Nesta, however, eyed them both suspiciously. 

“Did you come to wake me last night, or was that just a dream?” she asked, quietly, staring at her youngest sister.

Feyre mumbled something that she could not quite make out, so she let it slide. 

“You were wearing men’s clothing,” Nesta went on.

Feyre scoffed. “I would do no such thing.”

“And you said that Elain was running off with the butler.” Elain dropped her fork, the silver clattering loudly against her plate. “Now, that is an interesting dream, Nesta. One that mustn’t be shared out loud.”

Nesta watched Elain suspiciously as her shaky hands grabbed her fork to resume eating her scrambled eggs. She swore she saw her sister glance at the butler along the dining room wall. 

“Hmmm,” Nesta said, taking a bite off her own plate. “My mistake. Must have been a dream after all.

“I hear there was an explosion at the gambling house in town last night,” Elain said, abruptly changing the subject. “Alis said there may have even been some deaths. Is that not horrible?”

Feyre looked at Elain. “Someone died?”

Elain cut up her smoked ham. “That is what Alis heard.”

Feyre said nothing more as she set down her fork and fiddled with her napkin.

“Truly horrible. If only people knew to stay away from such obscene places,” Nesta began. “Anyway, I hear Lord Rhysand is back in town, Feyre. Were you aware?”

Feyre sighed. “No.”

“Well, I just sent out a letter not long ago, inviting him over for supper. I even told him he could stay here, if he so wished.”

Feyre’s eyes darted up and she stared at her oldest sister. “Pardon?”

Elain chewed slowly, staring back and forth between the two of them.

“Since papa is gone, I thought it my role, as the eldest, to decide such matters,” Nesta said.

“You could have asked,” Feyre said, between clenched teeth.

“Truly, Nesta,” Elain began. “It would have been respectable of you to at least ask Feyre before-“

“Lord Lucien has been invited, as well.”

Elain blinked, words falling short. “Has he?”

“He has. I know father wishes for us all to be wed as soon as possible, since the days are going on and we are not becoming any younger.”

“How thoughtful of you,” Elain said. She smiled, but it looked forced. “When will they be joining us?”

“This evening, of course,” Nesta said, dabbing her mouth with her napkin. “Supper will be served at seven.”

~~~~~

Elain looked in the mirror, admiring Alis’ work. 

She had pinned up her hair with emerald pins in perfect ringlets. Her lips were tainted a soft pink, as were her pale cheeks. She was dressed in a golden evening gown. 

It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

She was dressed to impress her future husband. 

Azriel hadn’t pulled her aside all day, and she had made herself perfectly scarce in all of their familiar places. Whether it was because he was busy or angry over Nesta’s announcement at breakfast, she wasn’t sure. She continuously hoped it was not the latter.

She heard the clock chime throughout the house, announcing it was half past six. Their guests would be arriving soon.

Lord Lucien would be arriving soon. 

She so desperately wished she could run to Azriel, could throw her arms around his neck, to sneak him away and share another beautiful night together, as they had for the second time the night before. 

The second time had been even greater than the first. They were not as shy, no longer tentative. There was no holding back as they made love beneath the stars, then lied awake in the silence and the peace that often ended far too soon. 

And it had ended, that peace, the instant Nesta had announced she had invited Lucien to supper. Because tonight Lucien would charm her. He would gain her trust and hope to further advance their courtship, because he was a kind, genuine soul, and their fathers had come to an understanding that this match was a sure thing.

He would propose.

And Elain, Lady Elain, would have to accept.

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red @littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books​ @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth​ @queenofillea1​ @mynewdreamwasyou​ @levivlio​ @hellolenas​ @burritowithfeels​ @that-other-pineapple​ @girl-who-reads-the-books​ @raghad-50725 @musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld​ @negativenesta  @welcometothespeaknowworldtour​ @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit​

[the-resurrection-3d]

I've also seen a lot of people complain about the pacing, although not a lot of whether it’s the pacing of events or the moment-to-moment rhythm of the writing. From a plot perspective, the only thing wrong with these first 70 pages is the section at the market because the female mercenary and the Children of Blessed mean fuck-all to the larger series, and Feyre getting paid extra for the hide is inconsequential. I do like the juxtaposition of the Children of the Blessed with the scarred mercenary, so I get the idea, but the character detail she was given was way to vivid and memorable for a nothing one-off character.

I think the problem is more the clip of exposition in this early sections, especially in regards to Feyre’s backstory. Having her mother, the primary instigator of this conflict, be dead just necessitates lots of exposition dumps since the book shies away from regular flashbacks for some reason. These are full scenes -- if not full chapters -- reduced down to paragraphs on a wiki.

People compare her a lot to Katniss, but Katniss's backstory (iirc) only had a few components: 

she was closer to her dad

dad died

mom became a depressed sponge

Katniss took over as breadwinner (her being the more responsible one of the two Everdeen sisters makes easy logical sense because she’s the elder, anyway)

she therefore resents her mother but is very protective of Prim

[If I’m genuinely forgetting something let me know!] You don’t really need proper narration or anything to really make sense of this dynamic because it’s a lot more simplistic, familiar, and accessible. 

Feyre has a lot more going on: 

Her sisters are both useless despite being older than her

Her family used to be rich but they lost the fortune somehow 

and her house got ransacked by creditors and her dad hobbled 

AND her mom was a bitch who made Feyre swear this oath to take care of her family on her deathbed 

Feyre is supremely loyal to her mother but For What 

her father makes no attempt to get a job apparently and is a depressed sponge

Nesta is a complete bitch and Elain is an oblivious sponge 

Having the youngest sibling be the only competent person in the room is a harder sell to people since it just happens less frequently, plus there are a lot more variables here. Having the youngest be the only smart one works better in a regular fairytale because a) reading any fairytale with “real world” logic is an inherently pointless and stupid endeavor and b) it works as wish fulfillment. The reasoning given for why the youngest sibling is hated, if there’s a reason given at all, is simplistic and accessible for the time period the tales were told in. This is not even getting into regular worldbuilding exposition dumps, such as the ending of page 43 to almost the end of 44, which is entirely just Feyre spouting off about High Lords and whatever.

[cassiandarling]

I’m just. I’m a dumbass. 

Anyway here’s @avenrebekah​‘s elriel fic *strums guitar* 

Title: Snow Angels

Words: 2.3k

Get it on ao3 here

The night court was covered in snow. A glittering white storm had passed over it, and had continued to pass over it, for weeks on end. Sometimes there was reprieve, or it slowed to a veritable drizzle, but for many days the residents of the court had had to seek shelter indoors, cooped up with fires and family, if they had indeed been trapped with them. Fae who could winnow were lucky, and they had been popping in and out of homes to stock up supplies and check in on residents where they could, but Elain was bored.

Tending to the small potted plants inside of her apartment could only occupy so much of her time, and she felt she had read enough to last her a lifetime- she had never been one to sit idle for too long. Likewise, baking and painting and sewing had stopped staving off her cabin fever after the first week.

So when the snow finally abates, and Azriel appears in a slow gathering of shadow in her living room, Elain nearly sobs in relief. He had been, quite possibly, the only thing stopping her from going stark-raving mad, despite him disappearing for hours at a time to tend to the other denizens of Velaris.

She would have thought he was simply stopping by for his daily-check in (which would often only last a few minutes at most, or a few curt words if he was particularly busy), had she not heard the snow stop falling in the small hours of the morning. Elain had woken to the pressing sound of nothingness, and rushed to her door, half determined to dig herself out with her bare hands if needed.

Now, Elain sat, mittened hands held firmly in her lap, back straight in her stiflingly warm attire. Azriel slowly looks her up and down, an eyebrow quirking.

“Good morning, Elain.” He says, simply, and Elain is not an impatient person by any margin but she just might tackle him to get out.

“Good morning Azriel. I hope you slept well. Has the snow stopped falling?” She asks instead, powering through the necessary pleasantries.

“I’m not sure if you’d take no for an answer.” Azriel almost looks amused. He takes a careful step forward, his eyes locked on hers, and she swears she sees his throat bob as he extends a hand. “Would you like to- that is-”

“Please.” Elain interrupts, breathlessly. Her face heats at the sound of her own outburst. “I mean, yes, please. I would like that, very much.”

Azriel nods, slowly, his eyes dark on hers, and Elain nods back. She shouldn’t have nodded, perhaps, but her mind is both racing and impossibly slow, and her skin is hot where Azriel’s gaze alights. Cabin fever, finally here for her soul.

Elain stands, restless hands held prim and proper, her hood heavy on her back. The cloak weighs her down, a present from Feyre in charming green. In her apartment, the layers upon layers she wears are stifling, but she's sure she'll be grateful for them when she is finally, blessedly, free.

Azriel raises a bent arm, and one of his brows twitches up at the action, as if even he is incredulous at the modesty of it- the humanity, even.

“Here.” He offers her a small smile, the picture of a perfect gentleman in his Illyrian Leathers and glinting Syphons, wings tucked primly behind him.

Elain delicately tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow, feeling her gown sway with her. She doesn’t dare meet his eyes, but gently thanks him before they are swallowed up by darkness.

It lasts less than a blink, as they move through the fabric of the world, and when it is done Elain feels the world pitched sideways, painted in white. A firm hand darts around her waist, yanking her right-ways up, Elain’s feet sliding along the ice beneath her, scrabbling for purchase. She finds it when she is pulled flush against something- something hard.

Except, no- not something- someone; she realises this when she peels her face away from a scaled chest to peer into soft hazel eyes. Elain squeaks.

Azriel silently allows her to extricate herself from the impromptu embrace, and kindly doesn’t laugh when she continues to slip along the frozen path in her haste. He simply holds her arms in an iron grasp, letting her get her bearings.

“You should be more careful.” He murmurs. Azriel’s cheeks are tinged with red- probably a product of the cold, she thinks-  and as she meets his gaze Elain finds his eyes are positively shining.

Elain nods, her voice having run away from her.

Azriel clears his throat, looking somewhere to his left. Elain blinks, finally feeling the bite of winter cold and shivering. She looks around at the snow-laden city, seeing it completely transformed, alien. The vague form of her apartment is smothered by mounds of snow behind her, and, not for the first time, Elain mourns the garden she had not been able to save. There were limits to Rhys’ mastery of his Court, after all.

Azriel’s voice shakes her out of her reverie, the rumbling, warm tones shocking her in their proximity. “Shall we?” He tosses a look carelessly over his shoulder, to the cityscape ahead of them.

“Shall.. Oh! Um, if it’s not too much trouble.” Elain blinks demurely up at him, eyes wide. “I’m sure you have other places to be…”

“Not at all.” Azriel assures her. He finally releases her arms, as if just having realised he was still holding onto her. He swallows again before proffering up his arm, and Elain barely hesitates before taking it.

Elain banishes the thought of Grayson doing the same while Azriel guides her through the ice-laden city, their breath curling into steam and drifting away like clouds on the wind. Children squeal and run, kicking up wet clumps as they sprint. Some Low Fae are forming balls of snow and lobbing them at each other, and they explode into slushy dust on impact.

“I’ve never played in the snow before.” Elain offers suddenly. Azriel looks at her from the corner of his eye as she continues. “When we had money, it was too… unbecoming. Too dangerous, not proper. And then, after, it was only a risk. Winter, the killing force, which destroyed what I grew and took Feyre’s game, that made our father grow worse...” She glances at Azriel, and huffs a laugh. “Sorry, I don’t think I know what I was trying to say.”

“I do.”  

Elain stares, blinking up at the man- the male, rather. For maybe the first time, she sees him as he is. Handsomely cut, but tangible. Flesh and blood beneath her fingers where dreams and smoke had so often nestled. She tilts her head to get a better view of his face, her free hand coming up dreamily to his jaw. Who holds their breath when she feels contact under her gloves? Both? Neither? It’s hard to tell when she’s slipping out of reality. A hand on top of hers, and she is grounded in flesh and blood again, the crisp scent of leather and Jasmine in her nose.

Azriel’s thumb strokes a soothing pattern over her glove. His eyes are so expressive, his lips never more enticing. Elain rips her hand away, face a million degrees.

“Sorry! Sorry, sorry!”

“It’s okay.”

Azriel tugs her along to a less busy area, one where they are afforded more privacy, and Elain gulps. Her mind races as Azriel breaks their contact, thoughts of improper etiquette and roguish Illyrians clouding her mind while said Illyrian ducks low to the ground. Just what had she gotten herself into?, she wonders mournfully as he straightens and steps back.

“Catch.” He calls. Elain scrambles as something is thrown her way, letting out a positively mortifying noise and raising her hands. A hard, round object falls into them, spraying ice on impact.

She blinks down at a snowball.

“Now throw it at me.” Azriel continues, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It won’t hurt me, I’ve spent enough years with the Illyrian pri- I mean, gentlemen- to be able to take it.”

“Are you quite sure?” Elain calls. At his affirmative answer, she raises it over her shoulder, squeaks when she throws as gently as she can.

Despite her efforts, the whole Fae-strength thing means it does, of course, burst into a million pieces when it hits Azriel’s chest. For a soul-wrenching second, Elain is worried, terrified she’s down something wrong. Then Azriel grins up at her, and Elain’s worry turns to euphoria. She claps in delight, returning his smile.

Something catches her eye and she giggles, trying to smother her laughter with a hand but doing no good as she finally devolves into full laughter, clutching at her corset. With as much grace as she can muster, she raises a trembling finger to Azriel’s nose, upon which a piece of snow had seated itself.

Elain laughs, forgetting politeness. A heavy thud sounds. She feels it, a weighty impact on her leg, through her layers of skirts and tights. She looks down to find white sprayed along her dress, and looks up to find Azriel smirking. A beat of silence. Elain dives for the snow beneath her, haphazardly packing it into a projectile, is hit with cold and wet and shrieks when it drips down her neck. Throws her own ball with uncanny precision and nails Azriel’s shoulder.

Elain is exhilarated, making and chucking lumps -because they weren’t neat enough to be classed as balls, and this sloppiness, too, thrills her- of snow as fast as she can, dancing out of the way of answering fire, taunting and giggling and letting out high-pitched noises of nope when she is hit. Azriel is steadfastly the better combatant, but she won’t go down without a fight.

He hides behind a frozen wall, and Elain gathers all the snow she can into her hood, and holds the wobbling mass in her arms as she sprints to him before he can stop her. She darts around the side, finding the shape of a person and dumping all the snow she can on it before it tackles her to the ground, limbs flying and tangling.

They hit the cold together, the wind knocked out of Elain’s lungs. She pants up at Azriel’s face, watching as his expression turns from playful to mortified above her. Their legs are tangled, his arms framing her, her hands clutching at his waist and his wings flared.

“Sh-shit, sorry.” He rises on his elbows, trying to find purchase and slipping closer to her in the process. His cheeks are definitely flaming, his breath fanning her face.

Elain feels her own face aflame, and she shivers as the cold soaks into her garments, but the excitement has not worn off quite yet.

Her lips brush the corner of his mouth. Azriel freezes, and Elain’s mind catches up to her and she screams internally.

“Thank you.” She says, instead of screaming externally.

He looks at her- really looks at her. It makes Elain want to squirm and hide as his gaze rakes over her face. It makes a small part of her want to preen and parade, to be the beautiful maiden that everyone in her life had so craved her to be. She fears he finds none. She hopes that he find none.

He slowly, ever so slowly, lowers himself, eyes skating over Elain’s face even as her eyes become hooded. Her heart is racing, and she hears his racing, too. He shudders, perhaps with the exertion of leaning over her.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs. Elain can feel the movement on her mouth.

If she had thought, she would have said no. Would have screamed and pushed him off her, and refused to see him for the next month.

She doesn't think. She kisses him.

It's nothing grand, but Azriel's mouth is warm on hers and he makes a small noise of surprise in the back of his throat that flutters into the bottom of Elain's stomach. His lips are soft, and as they part they follow hers as if unconsciously.

Elain opens her eyes and finds Azriel, so proud and strong, with his head bowed and his brows furrowed, chest heaving and eyes closed. His wings block off the outside world until it is only them, the beginning and the end, and her heart might burst at the thought of it. He breathes her name and she forgets impropriety and kisses him again.

This time there's a hunger in it, one she didn't know she could have, and it is Azriel who tears himself away.

“This is… not the way I would have hoped to do this.” He admits quietly. He trembles, though now Elain can tell it's with restraint.

“It's okay.” She runs a hand up his chest, to feel his pounding heart beat. “I… we can be proper… later.”

Elain flicks her gaze up to his, and hopes Azriel can parse what she means. That in that moment, she didn't want what anyone else could offer, what Grayson had offered: modesty and rules, restraint and spending winter bundled up watching the outside world. She wanted snowball fights and laying in slush with a warm body to keep her company, who wouldn’t pity her for the world.

Azriel presses a hand over hers, body flush against her in a way that makes Elain fill with heat.

“Elain Archeron, if you would allow me I would court you to a wonderful degree.”

Elain smiles and agrees.

Then she throws a handful of slush into his face and squeals when he winnows them into a snowbank. Her dress is drenched by the end of it, and their teeth chatter with the cold, but it's nothing a warm cup of Elain's tea won't fix.

[happywriter-happywriting]

The Shadow And His Light Chapter Three: "Azriel"

It was uncommon for Elain to wake up after the birds had finished their morning song; she usually was up with the sun. But today Elain was stirred to consciousness by the sun shining in full force through her window. She kept her eyes closed and turned over, hoping to escape the bright rays streaming in through the room.

When had her bed become this deliciously comfortable? She practically sank into the feather-down mattress. She sighed contentedly through her nose and scrunched her eyes tight, trying to recall the dream she had been in the middle of when the sun so rudely barged in.

Playful shadows and glowing blue lights pranced around the edges of her sleep, it was a lovely dream. A dream that made you want to fall back to sleep just to see the end of it.

Elain smiled and winked open an eye.

She bolted upright in her bed, the smile fleeing her face in an instant.

Not a dream. Not a dream.

She glanced around the room, which certainly was not her own. It was a large room, with two floor length windows standing guard at either side of the wall on the opposite side of the room- a large fireplace sat in between them. Whoever had last drawn the deep green curtains did a haphazard job, for two thick branches of sunlight (the very same that had awaken her) peeked through and fell across the bed. There was a desk and a fluffy yellow reading chair and a smart looking wardrobe.

Elain loved it immediately. It was homey, not too prim and proper like her father’s manor. Certainly not as gloomy and dull as one would think a Shadow Prince’s home to be.

Her thoughts turned to those hazel eyes again, those eyes had definitely taken part in her dream. She didn’t remember arriving at the estate the night before. She guessed that her new husband had tucked her into bed- she still wore the dirty peach gown, the corset must have come loose during all their dancing, for she could take a deep enough breath that it did not pinch.

Oh- and the dancing- she remembered the feeling of his hand on her waist; she remembered his scent as he held her close, a deep and weathered smell. She shivered underneath the heavy knitted comforter.

The four poster bed she now sat on was much too small for two people to fit in comfortably, especially if one of them had wings. Elain breathed a sigh of relief that they did not share a bed on the first night-- breathed a sigh of relief that he did not ask that of her. She had the conviction, that if it were any other male, she would have woken in a completely different state.

But he had promised her safety and comfort, and so far he was true to his word.

Elain carefully pushed the mountain of blankets off of her and slipped gingerly out of bed; her two trunks had been placed with care at the foot of it. Elain opened one and quickly changed out of the now ruined wedding dress, and in to something lighter, even foregoing a corset.

She could smell the aftermath of morning rain when she opened the bedroom door, stepping silently down the hall and to the living area. A set of great double doors lining the back wall had been flung open, allowing her a breathtaking view of a dark green forest resting beyond the estate’s grounds. Elain walked past the doors, moving aside the billowing cream curtains and stepped out onto the stone patio. The white cotton clouds seemed impossibly close; she had not realized how high up she was. Her new home was tucked away in a mountainside forest.

It was wild, yes, but there was so much room for her to plant and grow all manner of things. Elain turned in a circle, familiarizing herself with this foreign landscape. She could already picture where she would plant her herbs, locating a perfect spot for a small grove of wildflowers. She smiled happily, this new home would do just nicely.

When she turned back to the open doors, a pair of hazel eyes gleamed down at her. Azriel was leaning against the door frame, watching her. “How are you?”

She looked around once again, “It’s beautiful,” she did not answer his question directly, for in truth she did not exactly know how she was; one moment she was happy, the next nervous again, and the next… well she hadn’t gotten that far yet.

“Yes, it is.” he wasn’t looking at the scenery. It was still very early spring, and the mountain air made the wind somewhat colder, Elain shivered.

“Come inside,” Azriel noticed the gooseflesh raising on her delicate arms, “I’ll make you some tea.

Elain smiled and followed her husband inside. He wore no siphons today, instead allowing his shadows to billow gently around him. Elain decided she could sit for all eternity and watch him and his shadows, she found them sweetly fascinating.

She followed the shadows all the way to the little kitchen and sat down in front of the roaring fireplace.

The two didn’t say much, Elain heard the gentle clinking of the tea set as Azriel prepared it for her. Once it was ready, he brought it over, placing the warm mug in her hands, and sat down in the large wingback chair beside her, holding a mug of his own. They sat in comfortable silence, Elain staring at the leaping fire, and Azriel staring at Elain.

“Did you sleep well?” It was Azriel who finally broke the silent spell cast over the kitchen.

Elain smiled, remembering her hazy dream, “Very well.” She turned to him, “I don’t remember coming in last night,” she mused.

Azriel took a sip of his tea, “You were asleep before we even winnowed in.” He smiled at her.

Elain nodded and blew gently on the honeyed tea,“Have you any plans for today?”

Azriel ruffled his wings, “I’m meeting with the inner circle this afternoon, you are welcome to come- Feyre will be there.”

“I think-” Elain paused not wanting to sound rude, “If it’s alright with you that is, I think I might stay here and get settled.” she finally took a sip of the elderflower tea, it warmed her very soul.

“Of course, it’s up to you, love,” his shadows seemed to hum when he said it.

Love. A simple enough term of endearment, Elain placed the word in the back of her mind and let it sit there. It was a lovely little word she decided; and when used to describe her, well, Elain could get used to him saying it often.

It was quiet again. Elain wished she could find something pleasant to say, but he was still too new and strange, she worried she might say the wrong thing.

It was Azriel who once again broke the silence, “I have something for you.” he fumbled in his jacket pocket. “I know this is not really a traditional marriage, but-” He paused, searching for the right words to say, “-but, I thought perhaps a ring would make it feel a little more normal.” He held out a simple rose-gold band, a dazzling teardrop of opal resting in the center.

He took Elain’s hand and gently slid the ring on her finger. “It’s lovely,” Elain gazed at it in awe, she tilted her head up to him, “We’re really married,” she blew out a breath.

Azriel chuckled, still holding her hand in his, “Yes, we really are.”

“Do you-” she looked away, “-do you think this will work out?” it was barely a whisper.

Azriel brought her hand to his lips in an innocent kiss, “Something tells me that it will.”

“Your shadows?”

Azriel chuckled, “No, call it intuition.”

Elain smiled her sweetest smile up at him as he kissed her knuckles once more.

********************************************

When Azriel left, Elain was already hard at work on what would soon be a lush garden. He smiled at the memory of her big floppy sun hat and gloves. When he touched down at the House of Wind, the inner circle was already gathered casually in the living room.

“Did Elain not want to come?” was Feyre’s way of greeting him.

Cassian clapped him on the back, “Or did you wear her out too much last night, brother?”

Azriel’s cheeks lit up in a blush, he ignored Cassian’s vulgar question, speaking only to Feyre, “She wanted to get settled.”

Feyre hummed her understanding, “I hardly got to see her yesterday, didn’t she look just beautiful?”

Azriel’s blush darkened, he only nodded in agreement. She had been radiant, even down to her dirty hem and wild hair. His shadows truly had not prepared him for just how dazzling she really was. Suddenly he wished for the meeting to be over, so that he could get back to her, if only to sit in her gentle presence. He had left a few of his shadows with her, not to spy, only to make sure nothing bothered her. His home was protected by wards, but Azriel had learned there was no such thing as being too careful.

********************************************

The meeting was odious, mostly focusing on reports of the remaining Hybern rebels. Rhys was in the middle of reading a report of a secret gathering in the Spring Court, when Azriel’s Shadows began screaming.

Never in his life had they ever spoken to him in anything other than a murmur. Azriel shrunk back, immediately pushing his chair from under him and stumbling, literally, stumbling away from the table.

“What is it, boy?” Amren was wincing slightly, as if she could hear it too.

“I don’t-” he began, but then one word rang through the high pitched shrieking: Elain.

Azriel winnowed in an instant. He could hardly get through the shadow realm fast enough. When he emerged on the patio where he had left her just a few hours before, she was nowhere in sight.

“Elain?” he could hear screaming, not just from his shadows. “Elain, where are you?” he was frantic. He ran through the double doors, and began searching the small house in a fevered panic.

He quickly winnowed into the kitchen, nearly falling to his knees when he found her sprawled out on the wood floor.

Tears leaking down her face and her mouth wide open in a perpetual scream of horror. Azriel raced over to her and kneeled at her side, he surveyed her for any sign of injury, “Elain, what is it, love? What’s happened?”

She whimpered, “So much blood,”

“Where, love? Where are you hurt?” He searched down her body, finally noticing a tiny cut on her finger, he released a sigh, “It’s only a small cut,” he looked up at her in relief and confusion.

But she was not looking at him or the cut, her eyes were unfocussed and dazed. “Stop,” she screamed, “It’s too much, so much blood.”

Azriel propped her up against the same brown chair he had sat in just that morning, he cupped her face in his hands, “Elain, can you hear me, love?” She was looking right at him, but he could tell it wasn’t really him she saw. “Elain, come back to me, love.” he shook her shoulders gently.

For a moment the haze disappeared from her eyes and she gazed back at him, as if snapping out of a trance. But just as quickly, her whole body slumped against the chair, she fell limp in his arms.

********************************************

Elain’s entire body ached, it felt stiff and loose all at the same time, and her head- Cauldron her head- she could barely think of anything beyond the pounding in her skull. She groaned, trying desperately to come out of the thick fog that encapsulated her mind.

“Elain, love, come on, open your eyes for me.” Her husband’s deep voice soothed the pounding in her head. She winced as she blinked open her eyes. She was in bed again, Azriel sat on the yellow chair beside her, he held her hand in his.

“That’s it, good,” he spoke softly, “Do you remember what happened?”

Flashes of violence and gore echoed in her memory. She snatched her hand away from him. “I’m fine now.” she didn’t look at him.

Back at home, her father would get so angry when she had one of what he called ‘episodes’; he accused her of just wanting attention. He didn’t realize how little control she had over her mind. A simple image could trigger something in her mind and leave her a mumbling mess for days. Her father had tried everything to make her stop, even so far as forcing medication down her throat- different tonics and herbs.

Thankfully one such herb had helped tremendously, she normally took it every night in her tea. Elain cursed herself for forgetting, she had fallen asleep before she even arrived at her new home last night.

Azriel leaned back in his chair, “has this happened before?” Her silence gave him the answer he needed.

“How often?” it was not with the harsh voice he used for interrogations, his words were soft and filled with concern.

“Not for a long time,” she admitted after a moment, “I take a tonic, it’s in my blue trunk,” she seemed to be pleading with him, “I’ll take it now and this won’t happen again, I swear,” She brought her hands up to her hair, pulling at it in desperation.

“It’s alright, Elain.” He reached up, gently pulling her hands away from her hair, “It’s alright,” a few tears spilled over her cheeks and Azriel wiped them away gently. “What is it you take, love?” He took hold of her hands once again.

Elain was once again startled by his gentleness and sincerity, “It’s- It’s something my father gets for me,” she paused, trying to think of the name, “Faebane,” she recalled.

Azriel’s eyebrows shot up, “And that stops the visions?”

“Visions?” Elain wasn’t sure what he meant.

He nodded, “What did you see, love?”

Elain immediately shrunk in on herself at the memory, “I- I saw a battle and soldiers on a hill,” her eyes held that far-off look again, “And blood- there was so much,” it came out as a sob.

Azriel squeezed her hands, “Shhh, it’s over now. It’s over.” He got up and moved over to her trunk, looking for the tonic. He brought it over to her and mixed some in with a glass of water resting on her bedside table, “Here,” he placed it against her lips.

Elain was bone weary, she could hardly sit up on her own, so she let her husband poor the faebane laced water down her throat; she closed her eyes and swallowed, violent images rested on the backs of her eyelids, she opened them quickly.

Azriel pulled the glass away from her lips, “You should get some rest, love, we’ll talk more about this in the morning.”

Elain hadn’t realized how late it was, through the crack in the curtains she could only see night sky. There was only the firelight illuminating the room and all at once Elain could not bear to be left alone with only the bloody images in her mind.

“Azriel,” his name was barely a whisper. He stopped dead in his tracks underneath her door frame. They both realized it was the first time she had spoken his name. He turned back to her in concern.

“Would you-” she bit down on her lower lip anxiously.

“I can stay if you’d like me too.” His shadows stilled around him. He must have seen her look of distress.

“Would you, please?” She was grateful that he had been the one to suggest it, she never would have on her own.

He didn’t say a word, only walked to the bed and climbed in, he tucked her quivering body into his chest, surrounding her with his wings.

Elain fisted her hands in his shirt, pressing her forehead into his chest and breathed deep.

They fell asleep to the sounds of the crackling fire and one another's soft breaths.

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