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roselensedeyes · 7 months

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Be still, my foolish heart - part two

Pairing: elriel, elain x azriel

Word count: 5k

NSFW: yes

Hello everyone!

Here's finally part two! It's shorter than the first part, but don't worry! I have a multichaptered elriel fic releasing during Azriel's week. It features Elain as a single mom, and I'm super excited to finally share it with you!

Here's the link to Part one and the link to AO3! I hope you enjoy!

Uri’s arms were tight around Elain’s neck as Azriel gathered both of them in his arms and shot in the sky.

Although his flying had improved greatly in the month since his first flying lesson with his new father, the flight from the town house to the river house was still too arduous for Uri’s recently-healed wings.

Not to mention how nervous he was for tonight’s dinner.

Elain and Azriel had tried to reassure him that everything would be fine, yet his heart still beat too rapidly, his hands felt clammy and shaky, and he still kept picking at his nails.

He was fidgeting in Elain’s arms, trying to assess how long until their descent. Not that he had any actual idea; after all, this was going to be the first time he visited the river house, the first time he met the High Lord and High Lady of the Night Court, and their inner circle.

“Don’t fret, sweet boy,” his mother soothed. “Everyone will love you. I heard there might be presents with your name on them, too,” she whispered, conspiratorially. Even the promise of gifts wasn’t enough to draw away his anxiety. So Elain settled on rubbing his back, hoping the comfort of her embrace would help calm her son down. It did, a little.

“We’re here,” Azriel announced.

She heard Uri take in a deep breath as they made their way down the path that led to the entrance. Elain assessed the state of the flowers she’d planted a few weeks back; she made a mental note to remind her sister and brother-in-law how often some of the flowers needed to be watered.

Uri was holding both of his parents’ hands as they walked. When they were a few feet from the door, their son stopped dead in his tracks.

“What’s wrong?” Az asked him.

“I want to go home,” the Illyrian boy replied quietly.

“Can I ask why?”

Uri didn’t say anything, his gaze fixed on the ground. He shook his head, once.

Elain and Azriel exchanged a look, before Az got down to Uri’s eye level. He gently lifted his chin. “If you want to go home, we can and we will,” he said firmly, holding Uri’s gaze. “Though I know your aunts and uncles really, really want to meet you.” The boy’s eyes gleamed with uncertainty at that. “All week, your mom and I got so many questions about you from our family.”

Some of the nervousness had eased off from their son’s face the more Azriel spoke. He glanced behind his father’s back, toward the door. His eyes widened.

Elain looked at it, too, and saw Cassian staring at them from the window near the entrance. She rolled her eyes, and tried her best to hold in her laughter. Especially as she saw Amren’s smaller figure trying to take a peek from behind Cassian’s much bigger frame.

Her mate had noticed them, too, and snorted. Uri glanced back at him. “I told you,” he shrugged. “They’re really excited to meet you.”

With one last look at the now-clear window, his hands in each of his parents’, Uri took the final steps and entered the river house.

Azriel watched as his son played with his cousin Nyx and his uncle Cassian. He wasn’t sure what game it was, but as Uri laughed, loudly, again, he found he didn’t care much. As long as he was happy and safe, he let him have his space and possibility to explore himself, to find out who he was, what his likes and dislikes were.

As he sat on the end of the sofa, his lovely mate on his side in the middle of what appeared to be an intense conversation with her sister Nesta, Azriel thought back on tonight’s dinner and how smoothly it went.

He’d had no doubts that Uri would adapt quickly — even less that his family would wound up loving his son — yet he didn’t have the words to convey the emotion that overtook him when Uri had finally relaxed his body completely, and hugged Feyre of his own will.

Az’s High Lady hadn’t let him go for a long while. Nesta had tried to take him from her, but Feyre refused, claiming her favorite nephew needed her love a while longer. Nevermind that he was her only nephew, a fact she waved off when her older sister pointed it out.

When they’d gotten through the threshold, Uri had been pale with apprehension. Rhys had answered the door, and promptly stopped his new nephew from bowing to him. “You’re my family. I never ask that of my family,” he’d explained gently. The young Illyrian had blushed, but before his embarrassment could escalate, Rhys said, “We weren't sure what you liked. Your mother and father weren’t really helpful with that, so if you don’t like it we can change it.” Then, the High Lord of the Night Court gestured behind him, towards a pile of presents.

Spring was approaching, yet it felt like Solstice. “They’re all yours,” Rhys nodded at Uri, whose jaw dropped open in wonder. He pointed at his chest in disbelief. Rhys smiled and, grabbing his hand, led him to the gifts. They were from Rhysand and Feyre, Cassian and Nesta, from Mor and even from Amren. He’d gotten toys and clothes, shoes and jewelry. Cassian had gotten him Illyrian fighting leathers, promising him to be the one to train him when he was ready. Uri had glanced at Azriel at that, murmuring he wanted his dad to train him. His heart had warmed in his chest, and he’d looked smugly at his brother. The latter had rolled his eyes at him, before grudgingly amending that Az could train with them, too.

His son had been shy for the majority of the dinner, until Nyx had woken up and demanded to play with his new friend. After that, any tension that still held Uri in its grip vanished. His quietness had released him, and Az was now rubbing his temples, sensing a headache forming.

Elain’s delighted laugh brought him back to the present. He looked at her now. His mate was the most beautiful in all of Prythian. He was a lucky bastard. He wondered if he’d ever think he deserved her. He shook his head. How could he, so broken and sullen, deserve someone as perfect as her? Elain’s beauty went beyond a pretty face. No, hers manifested when she cared for their son, when she looked after her garden and baked her family’s favorite desserts. It came out when she used her power to help the court she belonged to, when she used her weaknesses to create something greater. It showed when she kissed him, soft and sweet, in their bed late at night, early in the morning in the bath, nothing between their naked bodies. When he was inside her, the loving sounds she made.

No, he could never deserve something as magnificent as she was.

Azriel was still staring at the love of his life as she looked him over her shoulder. Elain smiled softly at him, light dancing in her eyes. I love you, she mouthed. He wanted nothing more than to whisk her away to find a hidden alcove and show her with his mouth and body how far his love for her went.

A shadow appeared in front of him. Not one of his own. Rhys.

Things between them had been tense for a while, since that fateful night over a year ago, in the office where Rhys had forbidden him to be with Elain. Even after their mating bond had snapped into place, things between them hadn’t gone back to how they were before. It made Az feel guilty that he couldn’t let that sense of betrayal go.

A week after they’d accepted the mating bond, when the frenzy and animalistic instincts had finally allowed them to be around people who weren’t their son, they’d announced it to their family.

Azriel could still remember the tension in his body, how cold and clammy his hands were, how Elain’s were shaking, the rapid beat of her heart as they told their family. Feyre and Nesta had been overjoyed. They’d been worried about their sister ever since she’d told them about how she and Lucien intended to cleave their bond. It was something never-been-done before, their fears well understandable. They’d thrown their arms around her, hugging her so tight with their love and happiness. So was Cassian, while Amren only smirked and sipped from her cup. Mor had looked at them with a strange gleam in her eyes, but had smiled and congratulated them.

Yet they weren’t the ones who worried them. It was Rhys, Rhys who had stayed silent while the others expressed their felicitations, and who now was looking at them without a hint of what he was feeling. Az had been ready to grab Elain and take them back to the town house, to Uri, who they’d thought best to leave at home with Nuala and Cerridwen for this meeting. Then Rhys had smiled at them, and had wished them a happy union for eternity.

Azriel had frozen as Elain had thanked her brother-in-law and kissed him on the cheek. Az’s brother had noticed his reaction, though, and a while later, while everyone was distracted, had taken him aside and told him, “I am sorry, brother, if I made you feel like your feelings didn’t matter to me. They do, they always have and always will. I shouldn’t have said those things to you.”

And that had been that. They’d exchanged a look of understanding, before they hugged and went back to their family. Where Elain and Az had dropped a bigger news: they’d adopted a child.

Yet things still hadn’t smoothed between them yet. He guessed some things needed time to heal and grow anew, and perhaps this was one of those.

“Hi,” Rhys said now. “It looks like Uri is enjoying himself.”

Az smiled and nodded his agreement. “He does. Now he has a friend to play with, as does Nyx.”

Rhys gave him a pleased smile. “They do. It’s what I always saw in my mind, as I worked to build this court into something I was proud of. Our children being friends, playing without a care in the world.”

Azriel thought on his words, and realized it was the truth. His son, and any other children he might have one day, would never again feel unsafe or scared. And it was thanks to him, to Elain, to Rhys and the Night Court.

Elain interlaced her fingers with his in that moment, as if she could hear his thoughts. He sent his gratitude and love down their bond, and felt a kiss through it.

Their family had insisted, though it hadn’t taken much convincing.

As she walked down the aisle in a beautiful strapless, champagne, flowy dress, Elain thought back to her girlhood, when she used to dream and plan her wedding. There was always a handsome young Lord at her side, but reality had given her someone else. Someone her young, human mind couldn’t envision. He was much better than any of her fantasies.

The love of her life, her husband, was looking at her as she made her way to him. Elain had thought they’d have a mating ceremony, but Azriel had surprised her by telling her he wanted to have a human wedding.

“We’re already mated,” he’d explained. “All fae know we are. Now I want the humans to know you’re mine, too. Plus, I want to put my ring on your finger,” he’d shrugged.

She’d rolled her eyes at that, though the smile on her face was huge. She’d kissed him, and kissed him some more when he told her he knew she had their wedding planned already, and wanted to hear it.

The reality was pretty faithful to what she had in mind.

Elain reached her soon-to-be-husband, stared him in the eyes the entire time the High Priestess talked, when they recited their vows, when they slid their rings on each other’s fingers. Only closed them when they shared the kiss that sealed their union.

The rest of the evening went by in a blur. They danced, laughed, ate. They celebrated their marriage with their family, but most importantly with their son. Uri had perhaps been more excited than them.

But now they were back at their home, alone. In the morning, they would leave for the continent, where they’d spend a week there traveling from town to town. It was Elain’s dream, and her perfect mate was about to crown it.

But that was tomorrow, tonight their first as husband and wife. It felt foolish to be nervous. It technically wasn’t different from the others, from their first as mates. Still, her stomach was fluttering, her heart beating rapidly in her chest.

Azriel was looking at her, hunger and love battling in his eyes. Elain swallowed before she turned around, giving him her back.

“Will you take off my dress?”

Nothing— He neither said nor did anything for a few beats.

Then she felt him walk over, his scarred hands landing on her nape, where the zipper lay. The descent was agonizingly slow. Goosebumps appeared on her back, her arms, her neck. When the zipper met its end, she could have sworn his little finger grazed the top of her bottom. She shivered, arousal making her eyes roll in the back of her head.

She heard him take a deep breath. In a flash, she was against the wall, his mouth pressing against her hard, hot, wet. She matched his fire.

Elain felt his hardness against her pelvis, thrusting against her, seeking relief. She bit his lip, hard enough that he reared back. “Take your wife to bed, husband.”

His eyes flashed as he did just that. He stripped both of them. Then, his head was between her legs, tasting her wetness. He groaned as she gripped his hair as she thrusted against him, her legs finding their place on his shoulders. She gasped as she found her pleasure, but he wasn’t done.

In one single push, he was inside her. A moan wrenched out of her, loud, and she would have been embarrassed if he wasn’t already sliding in and out, reaching that sweet spot deep inside her. His mouth was wet against her throat, making goosebumps appear on her skin, before sliding down to her breasts.

When he bit a hardened peak, white stars appeared behind her eyelids. She soon heard his answering groan, before he fell on top of her, breath haggard.

They kissed, slow at first, quickly became passionate and bruising. Lust and devotion, fervor and tenderness. “I love you,” she whispered to him.

“I’ve been in love with you since the moment I laid eyes on you. I didn’t know at the time that that was what it was, yet now I look back and feel like a fool for not realizing it sooner. I will never be able to explain the depth of the emotion I feel for you. You are my sun, my moon, and my guiding star,” he said, not once tearing his gaze from hers.

Elain had managed not to spill any tears all day, yet now they escaped freely, rolling down her cheeks. She’d once thought Graysen would be the one to murmur these loving words to her, that he’d be her husband. She was the real fool, here.

She kissed him again, trying to tell him without words how much she loved him.

They fell asleep while he still was inside her, embraced tightly together.

Elain and Azriel had a secret.

They didn’t mean to keep it much longer – not that they could, even if they wanted to. But, they weren’t ready to share it with other people yet. They wanted it to be theirs for just a little longer, the unexpectedness of it still so surreal. Elain smiled each time she thought about it, though the knowledge stayed at the back of her mind constantly. It wasn’t something she could forget, something she didn’t want to forget. She smiled again now, before it nervously fell away.

Yet the main reason why they hadn’t told their family yet was another. And he was staring at them right now.

Elain’s leg kept jumping up and down as she dined with her family. Her churning stomach didn’t want her to introduce any food inside it, but the concern on her mate’s face was enough to make her force some of the stew down her throat.

Uri’s beautiful hazel eyes looked up at her, apprehension swirling in them. She tried to smile, but by the way his eyebrows furrowed even more, she knew it didn’t do anything to smooth his nerves.

“What’s wrong?” He asked them, putting down his spoon.

Azriel looked at her before replying, “Nothing is wrong, baby. Keep eating your stew.”

But Uri only shook his head. “You’re lying. Why are you lying? You hate it when I lie, so why are you lying to me now?”

The corners of Elain’s mouth threatened to quirk at the habit he’d picked up when he was five. Even though he was almost eight, it was still something he hadn’t outgrown. Maybe he would never outgrow it, instead become a defining trait of his personality.

Taking a deep breath, she met her son’s eyes. “Nothing is wrong, but we need to tell you something.”

Azriel went still at her side. Biting her lip she nodded, more to herself than to Uri.

“We have some exciting news.” Az grabbed her hand. “We haven’t told anyone, yet, because we wanted you to be the first to know.”

“I’m pregnant.”

Her words were met with silence. She watched as her son’s features slowly fell, her own smile equally dropping. She looked at her mate, lost.

“You’re going to be a big brother. Aren’t you excited?” Azriel asked him.

In answer, Uri began eating again. Elain placed a hand against her chest, where she could have sworn she could feel her heart breaking underneath.

She remembered how excited she was when her own parents had told her she was getting a new sibling. She’d prayed for another sister, who she could dress and have tea parties with. Feyre hadn’t really enjoyed them, though, so once again Elain’d had to play by herself.

“You’re going to have someone to play with all the time, isn’t that exciting?” She tried a different tactic.

He only shrugged. Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away. “Is there– Do you… not want a sibling?” Her voice was quiet, tremulous.

Again, Uri only shrugged. Az cleared his throat. “You know you can always come to us for anything, right? You know we’ll always love you, no matter what?”

He nodded. “I’m finished. Can I go play for a while before going to sleep?”

Her heart beating rapidly, lost for words, Elain only managed a nod. He was out of his chair before her next blink.

When she was sure he was far away, she let out a quiet sob. Azriel’s arms were immediately around her. “Shh, my love. It’s alright.”

Elain shook her head. “No, it’s not. You saw how he reacted, Az. He’s not happy about this,” she said, gesturing to her still-flat stomach. It would take a while before it’d begin to swell, Madja had said.

Azriel had insisted she visit the healer as soon as he noticed the change in her scent. It happened one lazy, early morning. His kisses had woken her up, and when she opened her eyes it was to the sight of Azriel’s filled with unshed tears. He’d held her in his arms, his hand resting against her belly. “My love,” he’d whispered. “You’ve given me too great a gift.”

They’d made love, gently, their hands held together, their wet cheeks touching. their breaths mingling. They told each other how far their love went, not just with their words, but with their hands, their bodies.

Yet, now that quiet joy she’d felt that day threatened to crumble in the face of Uri’s dismay.

“He only needs to come to terms with this. It’s a big change, and considering where he comes from, it makes sense that he needs some time before he can fully embrace this new adventure of sorts,” said Azriel.

Elain nodded, praying to the Mother that he was right.

He wasn’t right.

Azriel and Elain laid on the couch, going through reports Rhys had sent over. Nuala and Cerridwen, with the occasional help from Azriel, had trained her in the past few years, and now she proudly called herself the Spymistress of the Night Court. Her visions helped with their missions, although with the recent peace they’d reached those missions were now very few and far between.

Elain let out a yawn and snuggled closer to her mate, who dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Let’s go put our son to sleep, my love. Then we can go to bed, too.” He gently lifted her, sorting the papers and placing them on top of a shelf, where Uri couldn’t reach them. He knew better than to fly inside the house. Not that there was enough space, anyway.

Their boy hadn’t come downstairs since dinner. They’d hear him move at times, but mostly he was being quiet. Maybe Az was right, Elain mused, maybe he just needed to brood and work through his emotions and thoughts before he could understand how he truly felt about having a new sibling. After all, he’d been an only child his whole life. When he did figure out his true feelings, he’d come to them, and they’d discuss and face them like the real family they were.

Sure, it would devastate her if Uri was unhappy about his sibling, but she was sure talking about it would make him see how great of a news it was. Sentiment reinforced, she straightened her spine and got up, following her mate up the stairs.

That was when an eerie sensation had her go still. Her stomach clenched. She gripped Az’ hand, her eyes searching for Uri’s door. Az turned to her, a question written in his gaze. “What’s wrong, my love? Is it a vision?” They —Uri included— had gotten used to her sudden visions. She had better control now than when her powers first manifested, could block them or make them come forward when she deemed it best, yet when the vision was too strong, the message too important to be ignored, there was nothing she could do but submit to it. It used to frighten Uri, while it made Azriel restless, but now it was familiar, accepted.

Elain shook her head even as her grip on Az’s hand tightened. “Uri— It has to do with Uri.”

He didn’t question her — he never did. Her mate simply turned around and marched toward their son’s bedroom.

He knocked, once, twice, three times. Only then did he open the door

The sight nearly knocked the breath out of her lungs.

All of Uri’s clothes were no longer in his wardrobe. Instead, they were all over his bed and the floor, where the child in question was sitting, carefully folding his clothes. He looked up at them, then went back to placing the shirt in his hand in a big, black bag.

“What’s the meaning of this,” Azriel asked, though it was more of a demand than a request.

“I’m packing my stuff, and then I’ll leave,” Uri answered, and though Elain could tell he meant to sound collected, the tremors in his voice gave him away.

“What,” she gasped.

“I’m trying to be as fast as I can, I promise,” Uri rushed out to say. “I am not going to take all of the clothes, either. I know you’ll need them for the baby,” he said.

A shudder went through her body. The thought of having a brother or sister was so awful for Uri that he planned on leaving them.

“Can I take my toys with me? I would like something to play with at the orphanage, unless you want to give them to your baby,” he explained, and he sounded so calm, like this was a fact nothing and no one could change.

A sob wrenched out of her. Uri looked up at her in surprise, his eyes wide.

“You are our baby,” Azriel said, intensely. “If you think we’ll allow you to go away, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Uri’s brows furrowed in confusion. “But—But you’re having your own baby.”

Elain tilted her head. “You already are my own baby. Just because I didn’t bore you doesn’t mean you are not. It pains me to think I ever made you feel like I don’t love you from the deep well of my heart.”

He quickly shook his head. “No, I– I know you love me. It’s only that…” He trailed off, looking down at the ground, almost like he couldn’t bring himself to say the actual words.

Then Elain made the decision to sit down on the floor with him. Azriel quickly followed. She laid a hand against his cheek. It was still baby soft, one of the few remembrances of his childhood. “What’s troubling you, my sweet boy?”

Uri’s face crumpled. And then he sobbed. Elain’s hands wrapped around his head and brought it against her chest. She swayed back and forth, murmuring soothing words, stroking his hair. Az rubbed his back.

“I don't want you to stop loving me!” Uri bellowed out, like he’d restrained himself from speaking the words out loud for so long that now they fought to get out as loudly as possible. “I want you to love me forever, I don’t want to leave,” he yelled.

Elain’s eyes watered, and she wanted to cry, too, yet her words were steady and unfaltering as she said, “Listen to me, Uri.” She lifted his head up, staring right in her son’s red, shining eyes. “That will never happen. You’re not going anywhere. You are our son, and you’ll live with us forever.” She left feathery-light kisses on his swollen eyes. “And then one day, many, many years from now, you’ll decide it’s the right time to move out and create your own family, and I’ll be inconsolable for days on end, and you’ll roll your eyes and call me dramatic, which in turn will make me cry even more, but deep down I’ll be happy and supportive of your next adventure, even though you won’t be able to tell at first as I’ll be trying to lock you in your room—”

Her son’s giggles were the best sound she’d ever heard.

“You can’t say that, mom!” He admonished, even though laughter still colored his tone.

She smiled, and caught Az’s gaze. The Spymaster’s own eyes were glassy from unshed tears. Yet even that wasn’t enough to conceal the love reflecting in them, the love for her and their son. He cleared his throat, once, twice, before he said, “Uri, the baby your mom is carrying will be your brother or sister, do you understand? We will love you the same. You’re as much our child as this one.” He pointed at Elain’s still flat belly.

Uri looked at her stomach for the first time for a long time. Then he nodded.

She was aware the issue wasn’t resolved just like that, that it would take some time for Uri to truly believe it. Still, she peppered his face until he was gasping for air.

When his giggles quieted down, when he was nestled between them in their bed – no way was he sleeping by himself tonight. His room was a mess, anyway. — his Illyrian stuffed toy in his embrace, Uri sighed. “I hope it’s a girl. I want a sister.”

Azriel and Elain looked at each other over him. Azriel inclined his head, a silent agreement. They fell asleep with their smiles plastered over their faces.

Uri grumbled when they told him he now had a brother. Over the past ten months, he’d tell everyone he met he was really excited to meet his new baby sister. No matter how many times his parents tried to prepare him from getting disappointed. He was dead set on getting a new baby sister.

And now he had a brother.

“Mom, it’s so unfair,” he whined now. “I wanted a sister.”

Elain had just given birth. She was tired and in pain, though the tonic Madja had given her subdued it. Yet she was the happiest she’d ever been. Uri was nestled against her side, her mate on the other, her new child suckling at her breast.

She’d dreamed of it as a girl. It’d seemed an impossible dream when she was thrown into the Cauldron, the months of depression and heartbreak that had followed it. Yet it was now before her eyes.

It was exactly as she’d envisioned it. Perhaps even better.

“I know, baby,” Az echoed his statement. “But we love him, right? We’ll protect him?”

Uri rolled his eyes. “Of course. He’s my little brother,” he said.

Elain smiled. “You better. He already loves you so much. He told me.” As though he had heard her, the baby blindly reached out his hand. It landed on Uri’s cheek, a light touch that one might have called a caress. Uri kissed his brother’s palm. “I love you, Adi. Please grow up quickly. I want to play with you.”

“He loves you, too, baby.” Azriel pressed a kiss against his two sons’ foreheads. “Plus, next time you might get a little sister.”

Uri’s eyes sparkled with mischief at that. Elain shook her head, her smile still shining on her face.

It took two more tries before Uri finally got his long-awaited sister. That day, his scream of joy could be heard from all over Prythian.

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roselensedeyes · 7 months

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Be still, my foolish heart - part one

Pairing: elriel, elain x azriel

Word Count: 11.1k

CW: child abuse

NSWF: yes

Hello everyone!

I'm sharing part one of my newest fic. I don't know when part two will come out, probably at some time next week. I'm also working on a 7-chapter fic for Azriel's week. I'm super excited about that one because I started it months ago and I'm now fixing it so it fits with the prompts. You can also find it on AO3 here. Enjoy! Here's the link for Part two.

She’d almost asked Rhys or Mor to winnow her to the camp, the weight of the muffins and pies too heavy, but they didn’t know about her frequent visits to the remote location– none of her family did– and she really, really didn’t want to answer the questions that would surely arise.

It wasn’t that she meant to keep it a secret forever. But this was her thing, that gave her a purpose she’d never had before, not even when she started gardening as a child, or when she picked up baking with Nuala and Cerridwen all those months ago. She wanted to keep it for herself for a while, just a bit longer.

So Elain told Cassian she was going to a house to help its owner with this overgrown ivy that gave no sign of going away anytime soon, secretly getting into a carriage that would take her to her destination.

“Good morning, Mr. Garth,” Elain called out to the driver. The man– male, she reminded herself– slightly turned his head her way in greeting, the white and gray in his hair noticeable in this light. Garth smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

“Good morning to you, too, Miss Elain,” he said cheerfully. Then he took notice of the baked goods she was carrying. “By the Cauldron, Miss, if you’d told me you were bringing stuff with you I’d have picked you up near your house,” he exclaimed.

“No,” Elain hastily said, causing Garth’s eyebrows to shoot up his forehead. She hurried to clarify, “I just meant, there was no need. A little exercise is good for me, or at least that’s what my older sister says.”

The older man chuckled. “That’s what my mate says, too.”

Elain’s stomach churned at the word, but waved it off with a humming sound.

Soon, they reached her destination. The magical scenery of Velaris faded to harsh weather, the snow thick as it fell and covered the ground. Her heart squeezed at the sight, her blood screaming at her to hurry.

She’d already opened her door by the time the carriage came to a stop, quickly gathering the pies and muffins before setting off to the small building, not before leaving a few coins to Garth, to his never-ending protests.

Elain struggled to open the heavy wooden doors while making sure the food wouldn’t fall. She had just made the decision to knock and pray someone would hear, when someone opened it for her.

She looked up to see Carys’ bright, sweet smile flashing at her. Elain couldn’t help her own as she looked at her friend. “Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t worry, El,” Carys replied. “I see you made good on your promise,” she pointed at what she was carrying.

Elain nodded. “Yes. I feared the children would send me away if I came empty handed,” she whispered, eyes gleaming with joy.

Carys laughed with her, and together they walked to the dining room, where she knew the kids were awaiting breakfast.

Elain had first heard of the orphanage when she was assisting an elderly lady with her garden. The female had invited her in for tea and told her all about her granddaughter who was volunteering at an orphanage slightly outside the city. She’d explained about the high number of children who had lost their parents in the war and had no other family that could take them in. Elain had left with a tears-stricken face and her heart shattered in a million little pieces. Two weeks later, she’d met with the female’s granddaughter, Carys.

Carys had welcomed her, showing her the place and introducing her to the little ones. Elain had almost started crying as she met them, but she was quick to bat her tear away, Carys’ instructions sounding loud and clear in her head. Never let them see you cry. All they need is a feeling of normalcy. Tears are often associated with the loss they suffered.

Five months later, Elain was now a volunteer, too. She came by at least three times a week, four if she managed it. She helped feed them, bathe them; she played with them and brought them on walks. The kids adored her, almost as much as she did them.

As she stepped into the room, several heads turned to her. So many, too many babies didn’t have a place to call home. Her heart constricted in her chest at the thought. Elain knew most of them would never find their forever home, would grow up in this place until they reached maturity. She only hoped that by that time, the kindness and affection the volunteers had shown them during their childhood, would shape them into good people.

“Miss Elain!” Many cried out, launching themselves at her and Carys. The two young females hugged them all as best as they could, but soon the children noticed what they were carrying. Gasps filled the room.

“Pies! You remembered, Miss Elain” A little girl exclaimed excitedly. Elain smiled back at her and nodded.

As soon as the pies and muffins were placed on a few tables, Elain and Carys were immediately forgotten. They watched in amusement as the kids all but flung themselves at the baked goods, devouring everything. It was a good thing Elain had already cut the cakes in slices.

Carys went to help the smaller children, who were on the verge of crying their lungs out at the thought of not getting something, too. Elain was about to follow her, when something in the corner of her eye caught her attention.

Under one of the unused tables, a little boy crouched. His little legs were bunched up to his chest, his eyes red and terrified. His wings were tucked in tight, as though he feared brushing them against any surface.

His eyes locked on hers as Elain slowly walked to him. His hazel eyes widened even more. He began scooting backward when he saw her approaching. She stopped dead in her tracks a few feet away from him, and raised her hands in a placating manner.

“It’s alright,” Elain soothed. “I only wanted to say hi to you.”

The child didn’t say anything in return.

“My name is Elain,” she greeted him, uncaring of his silence. It wasn’t the first time a small one refused to speak. This one couldn’t be older than four. Elain wondered if he even knew how to speak. “Do you want me to bring a muffin? Or would you rather a slice of apple pie? We even have a blueberry one, if you prefer.”

He looked at her hesitantly. She smiled, trying to reassure him there were no wrong answers. After a few minutes of unblinking staring, he gave a single nod.

“That’s great! I’ll bring you each of everything. Or do you want to be with your friends?” He shook his head vigorously, like the thought terrified him. Elain smiled at him in answer.

When she returned less than two minutes later, the boy was still in the same position. Elain carefully sat down on the floor, handing him the food. He reached out just as carefully. He seemed to study which one he wanted to eat first, weighing the choice in his head.

It was then that she noticed it. His wings had scars on them. Elain swallowed, willing her face to remain the same, yet a noise escaped her. His little head jerked up and he noticed what she was looking at. He tried to tuck in his wings even more, pain flashing across his features. Her heart began bleeding.

“Can you tell me your name? I need to give this beautiful face a name,” she asked him, her voice tremulous.

He didn’t say anything for so long that Elain believed he didn’t want to share this information with her. She opened her mouth, but a quiet, young voice stopped her. “Uri.”

“That’s such a beautiful name. Thank you for telling me,” Elain said, her hands shaking. The corner of the boy’s mouth quirked up at her words. “How old are you, Uri?”

He looked at his hands, then held up four fingers. “Wow, you’re such a big boy!”

This time, his smile was wide, bright. It took all the control she’d mastered over the years to hold the tears in.

They spent hours crouched under the table, conversing quietly, away from prying eyes. Well, it was mainly Elain who spoke. She told him about her sisters, her parents and her new family. She told him all about gardening and baking, of how her friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, had helped her when she was sad. He retreated into himself when she asked about his family or his past. The blood in her veins went ice cold as millions of possibilities ran through her mind. So she talked about herself, making him laugh and gasp and smile. At some point, Uri began rubbing his tired eyes, stopping mid sentence to yawn.

Elain opened her arms. “Do you feel sleepy, sweet boy?”

He nodded.

“Do you want me to tuck you in?”

He seemed to hesitate, before slowly crawling into her warm embrace. Elain hugged him to her, mindful of his damaged wings. She got up with his arms tightly hugging her neck. She felt him tense as they walked past two male volunteers. They smiled at him, and Uri began shaking slightly. Elain tightened her hold on him and made it to the bedroom.

She gently laid him under the covers, caressing his hair and landing a kiss on his forehead. She smiled when she saw his cheeks coloring. “Have a nice nap, Uri.”

His hand shot out from under the covers to grab her wrist. Elain’s eyebrows rose high on her forehead. “What’s wrong, sweet boy?”

He mumbled something. “I’m sorry, Uri, I didn’t get that.”

Uri took a deep breath, like it was an effort to get the words out. “Stay. Don’t go,” his voice was quiet, but steady. Elain’s heart puffed up before squeezing tight. She sat down on the tiny bed, his hand still on her wrist.

“That’s fine. Do you want me to tell you a story?” She asked him as she stroked his cheeks.

He nodded, nuzzling her hand. So Elain began narrating to him a story her father used to tell her when she was a child, when nightmares wouldn’t allow her any sleep. It was a tale of hope, of love, of friendship.

Uri fell asleep quickly, his hand still touching her. The sight warmed her soul, and it was painful to pry it and gently lay it on the bed.

She silently closed the door behind her and went in search of Carys. The black haired female was playing with some of the older kids when Elain tapped her on the shoulder. Her smile slid off her face as she noticed Elain’s pale face. “What happened?” She asked, alarmed.

“What do you know of Uri?”

Carys furrowed her brows. “Uri?” Her eyes cleared with understanding a few seconds later. “Oh, you’re talking about the Illyrian boy.” She shook her head. “I’m afraid I don’t know much. We found him hiding beneath a tree a couple days ago. He was blue from the cold, we thought he was… Anyway, he hasn’t said much since we brought him here.”

Elain could feel new tears threatening to spill. “We need to do something about his wings,” she stated, as though she would allow no alternative.

Carys nodded. “The Illyrians aren’t forthcoming with their help. I was thinking about sending a letter to the High Lord, hoping he’d see it and provide us help soon.”

Elain shook her head no. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of this, I know who to call.”

When she left hours later, her body heavy with stricken worry, she instructed Garth to take her to a different address from the usual one. He gave her a curious look, but didn’t comment on it.

The cobblestone was slippery outside, the weather bleak like Elain was feeling. A cold wind gave her skin bumps, and she wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. She knocked on the door, then knocked again, this time louder, when no one answered. “Open up. I know you’re in here.”

Silence, before she heard light steps from the other side of the door, which opened a few instants later.

Azriel’s hair was ruffled, the shirt he had on wrinkled. His hazel eyes, so alike Cassian’s, so alike Uri’s, were red from sleep. His posture, though, was stiff, giving away his unease at having her at his house.

Elain had discovered it by accident, and Az had made her swear she wouldn’t reveal it to their family. She’d nodded, pleased at knowing one of his secrets when he knew so many about all of them.

“What’s wrong?” He asked her, worry clouding his features.

“What does it mean when an Illyrian’s wings have scars on them? Is it normal for them to hurt?”

Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise. “What?”

“If an Illyrian has scars in his wings, is it normal that–” she repeated, but Azriel interrupted her.

“Where is this coming from? Whose wings are scarred? Did something happen to Rhys or Cass?”

She quickly shook her head. “No, no. They’re fine. It’s…”

When Elain had made the decision to come here, she’d understood she would have to share this part of her life with at least someone else. Her comfort couldn’t come before a child’s health and safety. So she took a deep breath, and told Azriel everything.

He listened carefully to what she had to say. He always had, as though her words were his new law, forbidding him from deviating from them. Az had always made her feel sacred, important, strong. She spent her night wondering what had changed, when it did. She hadn’t found the answer yet, her tear-stained pillows proof of it.

Az ran a hand on his face when she finished speaking. “What happened to him?”

Elain sighed sadly. “I don’t know. He refuses to talk about his past. It took me hours to get him to tell me where he comes from.” She told him Uri’s camp’s name, and saw him clench his hands into tight fists.

“I need to see him, so I can tell the healer what he needs,” Azriel explained.

She bit her lip. “I don’t know that that’s possible. I think… I think a male figure in his life hurt him badly. Might be the reason why his wings look like that.” She recounted his reaction to the two males. Azriel nodded his agreement.

“Here’s what you need to do.”

The next day, Carys was surprised to see Elain back so soon. The latter explained what she planned to do. Carys let her go with a promise of calling for her if anything went wrong.

Uri was still in bed. He was sleeping, his face contorting in pain and anguish. Elain knew at once he was having a nightmare. Silently, she reached his tiny bed, the blue covers stained with tears. “Uri, wake up,” she whispered softly, not wanting to startle him. He didn’t wake. Ever so gently, Elain ran her knuckles on his cheek, all the while murmuring his name.

Slowly, Uri opened his eyes. Terror lined his features, and a sob escaped him. Elain kept caressing him, whispering words of comfort as he came to. He blinked, his eyes not as vacant and bleak as a few moments before, and finally noticed her. His cheeks reddened slightly. Elain watched as Uri tried to burrow himself even further under the covers. She smiled and giggled. “Hello, sweet boy. Do you want to give me a hug?”

He seemed to hesitate, looking at her in what she almost called self consciousness, but he crawled out from under the sheets and onto her laps, like he had done the previous day. Elain rubbed his back where she didn’t risk touching his little wings. “Should we get ready for the day and then eat breakfast?” She asked him, already walking toward the bathroom. Uri nodded, his head resting on the crook of Elain’s neck.

She took great care of his pained wings as she helped him bathe, as she helped him wear some clothes Azriel had given her. Elain smiled at the older Illyrian’s thoughtfulness.

As Uri finished his breakfast– some leftover blueberry muffins from yesterday– Elain recounted what Azriel had said to her the night before. “I need to examine your wings,” she said. Uri stiffened. “I know, I know, sweet boy, but my– my friend has wings like yours, and they were hurt, too. He knows how to fix them, he told me how to. Can I take a look?”

Elain held her breath. She wasn’t going to force him to accept if he didn’t want to– only the Cauldron knew what had been done to him– but she really, really hoped he would. Seeing those injuries on a child made her blind with rage, and all Elain wanted to do was to take his pain away.

“Fine.” His small, child-like voice was barely audible.

Elain let out a sigh of relief. “I’m only going to take a look today. Tonight, I’ll meet with my friend and he’ll tell me what we need to do to fix these beautiful wings,” she explained. “I already know they’re going to be majestic when you get older,” she booped his nose.

Uri blushed and giggled. Elain laughed with him. They played a while together, before they found a secluded place where Elain could assess the state of his wings.

She had to swallow the fury and tears at the sight of what had been done to them, to him. His wings had laceration and burn scars. Someone had cut and burned them. Her hands closed in tight fists at her sides, her mind swimming with thoughts of hurting whoever was responsible.

“My papa doesn’t like me much,” Uri’s words stopped her fuming. Elain glanced in the mirror, caught his eyes. They were in a bathroom that was long unused, the plumbing required too expensive to afford.

“Why do you say that?” She asked, even as she kept checking his wings out.

Uri shrugged. “He tells me all the time. He says he only wanted to be with my mother, that I wasn’t supposed to be here.” The way he said it, like it was normal for a parent to utter such things… Elain had to take a deep breath to quell the rage simmering in her blood.

“That’s not very nice, is it?”

Uri again shrugged.

“What happened to him?” She asked, and immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say. His face shut down, his body tensed, and he wriggled to be put down. “I’m tired, Miss Elain. Can I go sleep?”

Elain cursed herself, but nodded anyway. She went with him to his bedroom, stayed until he fell asleep. Then, she all but ran outside, Garth already waiting for her. During the long minutes of the ride, she thought back on Uri’s words, what she had seen. Her vision was red, and when she finally got out of the carriage, she pounded on Azriel’s door.

This time, he didn’t bother pretending he wasn’t inside.

“El–” Azriel started, but Elain’s anguished voice interrupted him.

“He burned him, Az. He cut him, he hurt his own son. How could a parent, anyone hurt a child?” Her voice broke, and Azriel’s concerned face appeared blurry to her.

Elain felt wetness on her cheeks just as Azriel’s scarred hand rested on her shoulder. She brought a hand to her face and wiped away the tears she hadn’t realized she’d shed.

Azriel’s other hand lightly touched Elain’s chin, lifting her head up. “It’s going to be alright, lo–Elain,” he murmured.

Their eyes locked, and the tenderness in his had her nodding. Something tightened low in her belly.

“Now, take a deep breath and repeat what you just said, slowly.”

Elain did as he asked.

She watched as his hazel eyes, so much like Uri’s, darkened to the point they resembled a depthless pit the more she explained what the Illyrian child had told her and what she’d seen. The next time Azriel spoke, the ice in his voice sent a shiver down Elain’s back. “Do you know where his father,” the last word was said with particular vitriol. “lives? His name?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t say. He only said that his father doesn’t like him. The things that male has said to him… I’m sick just thinking about it.”

Azriel’s eyes flashed with so much fury that told Elain exactly what he thought of the male, and what he planned to do to him when he found him. Because he would find him, be it the last thing he ever did. And, Elain mused, she would join him in letting Uri’s father know what, exactly, he was worth.

“Do you think,” Azriel’s voice brought her back to the present. “that the child would be comfortable around me?”

Elain inclined her head. “I’m not sure. He gave me the impression that he’s wary around males. Why?”

There was nothing, absolutely nothing on Azriel’s face as he said, “My own brothers did the same to me when I was slightly older than him. I think it would be best for him if he heard the healing process from someone who went through the same hurt as him.”

Her heart stopped beating for a while. When it picked up again, it did so with a rage that burned scarlet. She’d known something had happened to him, his scarred hands proof of it. But never would she have thought it had been done to him by his family–

Her horror and wrath must have shown on her face because Azriel asked, his brows furrowed, “Feyre didn’t tell you?”

Elain let out a distressed noise. “What— What happened to them?”

Azriel’s eyes shut down. “You don’t want to know.”

She bared her teeth, something wild clawing at her chest. “I do. If they still breathe, I want to end them myself.”

Azriel’s eyes widened. One of those beautiful, scarred hands splayed on his chest, where his heart lay beneath. “Elain—” He rasped out.

They’d moved into the tiny living room as they’d talked. Now Azriel let himself fall on the gray sofa, panting.

Elain reached out, concerned. “Are you alright?” She asked, but as she made to touch him, he jerked away like a spooked animal.

Her hand froze midway. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, confused. Elain didn’t even know what she was apologizing for.

Azriel shook his head. “I need… Let me know if Uri’s fine to meet me. I have somewhere to go.” He wouldn’t even meet her eyes.

It was like that night again, she thought bitterly as she exited his house, not even bothering to say goodbye.

Her heart constricted in her chest as she realized how stupid she’d been to come to him. She should have gone to Rhys, or Cassian, or even Madja. Her mind betrayed her by replaying that fateful night all those months ago.

Elain closed the door of the carriage and banished those thoughts.

She went back to the orphanage a couple of days later. She inquired more about Uri, but Carys had learned nothing more about him. “I can show you where we found him, though,” she offered. Elain readily accepted, scanning the area keenly, memorizing it down to the smallest details, in order to be able to describe it to Az, or, if necessary, to allow Rhys a clear view if he needed to go through her mind.

Her hands closed into two tight fists as she noticed there was no shelter in the area, just a few trees under which Uri had surely sought refuge.

“Sweet boy, I have to ask you something,” Elain said now, while she and Uri were playing with a few blocks in the orphanage’s playroom.

He glanced up at her. His wings were touching the ground, but he didn’t seem to mind. She remembered her younger sister, Feyre, once explaining that it was a profound shame for an Illyrian’s wings to drag on the ground, a sign of weakness. Elain wondered if Uri had ever been taught how to fly. Somehow, she didn’t think he had.

“My friend would like to meet you,” she started slowly. His shoulders immediately bunched up. “You know how you told me your father doesn’t like you much? His brothers didn’t either, and they hurt him badly. He wants to help you.”

Uri didn’t say anything as he went back to his blocks. Elain barely held her sigh in. She knew it was a long shot. She’d seen how he reacted around males, she should have expected his, albeit silent, refusal. Hopefully, Madja knew how to help him, or maybe Azriel could explain to them the best–

“Will you be there with me?” Uri’s small, quiet voice interrupted her thoughts.

Elain settled her eyes on him again, and watched as his attention was wholly on her. “Of course. You’re my friend, now, Uri. You’ll never get rid of me,” she answered solemnly even as her fingers tickled his sides. He giggled, and it was the most beautiful sound she’d ever heard. Her laughter soon joined his, and for the first time in months, years, her heart felt light.

As their mirth slowly trailed off, Uri gave his consent to meeting Azriel.

“That’s good,” Elain nodded. “You will like him. He’s quiet like you, but his heart is full of love to give.” It was just that he hadn’t met the right person to give all that love to, Elain thought wistfully. She’d once believed she was that person, and what a fool she’d been. Her heart ached at the knowledge, but she hoped he would find her one day soon.

Uri’s eyes flashed with interest at that, but he didn’t voice his curiosity. He went back to playing, throwing her glances when he thought she wouldn’t notice.

When she got home hours later, she let Azriel know through the twin wraiths, Nuala and Cerridwen, about Uri’s decision. Her friends could tell something was bothering her, somehow knowing she didn’t want to talk about it. Nonetheless, they spent time with her, trying to cheer her up.

She may not have the love of her life in her arms, Elain mused, but at least she had this. And much more. She had her family, her friends, her job, the orphanage, and Uri. She had much to smile for, to be happy about.

“Just a heads up. He doesn’t talk much, and he needs his time before opening up. That also includes telling you if he wants fruit or cereal for breakfast,” Elain warned three days later.

The shadowsinger nodded, even though his eyes were focused on the small building, assessing all the work that was visibly needed.

“We’re hoping to save enough money to fix… everything,” she answered his silent question with a laugh.

He swung his gaze back to hers and arched an eyebrow. Elain shrugged. “We’re reaching the goal soon, and then some more. I might have put the request on top of the pile of papers Feyre and Rhysand have to go through. I might have also added my name there.”

She could have sworn his lips twitched, amusement dancing in his eyes. Her heart constricted with the need of having him.

Elain cleared her throat, aware that a flush had spread on her neck. She could have sworn Azriel’s ears were tinged red, too. “Let’s go meet Uri.”

The child in question lay on his tiny bed. He appeared to be sleeping, his face peaceful. Too peaceful. Elain knew at once he was faking it. She turned to Azriel, mirth in her eyes, and saw the understanding and glee on his features.

“Oh, Azriel, he’s sleeping,” she faux-whispered. “We’ll have to come back on another day. He’s sleeping.”

Azriel shook his head. “That’s too bad, I brought him a present, but I guess I’ll have to give it to him some other time,” he said, doing his best to sound serious.

Uri tensed, cracking one eye open.

Elain interlaced her arm with Azriel’s. “Let’s go, you can give it to him next time.”

She made to open the door, but Uri’s “I’m awake, Miss Elain” stopped her. Exchanging an amused glance with Azriel, they both turned to him.

“You’re awake!” Elain exclaimed, sounding surprised. “Uri, this is Azriel, my friend I told you about. Azriel, this is Uri, my newest friend,” she introduced them.

The child nodded vigorously. His gaze shifted to Azriel, and some of his excitement dimmed. He seemed to study him, taking in his size, his wings. His weariness slowly eased off, leaving interest in what Az had said he had for him.

“Oh, yes,” the shadowsinger said, his shadows handing him a soft toy. It resembled him, the hazel eyes, the dark hair, the wings. It was an Illyrian toy.

Uri’s eyes flickered with something that looked a lot like yearning, though a hint of fear and hurt could be found in them, as though he wouldn’t allow himself to believe it was for him, that he deserved it.

“My mother gave it to me when I was your age. She’d made it herself, claiming it would give me strength and that one day I’d be tall and strong. I think it worked, what do you think?”

Uri nodded, awe shining on his face.

“I want you to have it. So when you feel like you need it, you can just hug him tight to your chest and borrow his strenght,” Azriel finished, offering the toy to the boy.

The young Illyrian grabbed it, holding it tight in his arms. Unwelcomed tears filled Elain’s eyes, and she had to look away.

“Thank you, Mr. Azriel,” replied Uri brightly.

Az only inclined his head.

“Right,” Elain caught their attention. “Uri, do you remember what I told you about Azriel?” She waited for his nod before continuing. “Do you think he could take a look at your beautiful wings?”

The small child hesitated, but after a furtive glance in Azriel’s direction – who was trying his best to make him feel at ease – he gave a small nod.

It was a painful process.

Azriel knew it would be. He’d gone through it all those centuries ago, except in that case he was Uri and in his stead was his mother.

Uri was trying his best not to make any sound as Azriel grazed his wings, trying to assess how deep the damage went.

“Can I touch your wings, Uri?” He’d asked.

The boy had been confused at the request. It had taken Az a few seconds to understand that it was due to never being asked for permission to be touched. He’d done his best to cloud the fury he’d felt in that moment, the last thing he wanted was to frighten the small child in front of him.

Azriel consulted with his shadows. The scars were countless, but mostly superficial, which was the preferred outcome he hoped for.

He turned to Elain, whom his shadows had let him know was seated on a stool near the door, her attention solely on them, and gestured to her to come closer.

“It’s not going to take one day, or two, nor three. It’s going to take a while, a few weeks at the earliest. If we rush the healing, we could make things worse,” Az explained to the both of them. Elain nodded, Uri too young to fully understand what he was saying.

“One more thing,” he looked solely at Elain as he went on. “He can’t stay here. He needs a room only for himself, a bathroom with the things he needs, including his balm.”

“I won’t allow him to go back to his— to that place,” Elain growled.

It hurt looking at her, after yesterday’s revelation. The ferocity with which she defended a child that wasn’t her own, that she wasn’t related to… Cauldron damn him, it made him want her that much more.

Az quickly clarified, “That’s not what I’m saying. I think he should come home with you, El.”

The name slipped out, but she didn’t seem to notice. “What?”

He shrugged. “Well, it’s clear he feels safe around you, and I doubt he does with any of the other volunteers, does he?” At her shake of head, he nodded. “He needn’t feel crowded, and he might feel shame if the other kids, especially the older ones, witnessed his state” he added, lowering his voice so as not to be heard by Uri.

“I understand, I really do, but I just can’t bring a child to the river house! Nyx is only a few months old,” Elain explained, frustrated at the thought of failing Uri.

“What about the town house?”

He watched as she contemplated his words.

“I guess I could just tell Rhys that I need my space, that I need to figure some things out,” she bit her lip, deep in thought, and Azriel had to grind his jaw to stop the fantasies playing out in his head.

“I will come by often, to heal him,” Azriel offered.

An emotion he couldn’t decipher – despite the years of spying and torturing information out of other people — crossed her face, but it was gone in the next blink of eyes.

“That’s– That’s perfect,” replied Elain. Az didn’t need his shadows to know it was a lie.

Uri agreed to go live with Elain when they sat him down and explained the situation to him. Az could have sworn he almost looked relieved at the thought of leaving the orphanage. Not that he could blame him.

They began making arrangements, and a week later, Azriel dropped Elain and Uri in their new home.

Something that wasn’t his shadows screamed at him that it was wrong to leave his— to leave Elain and Uri alone. That he belonged with them, that he was supposed to stand at their side, protecting them.

The urge was primal, and it left him breathless. It took all his training to not double over in pain.

He ignored it, though.

And so he went to that flimsy house he owned, alone, trying to force those traitorous thoughts out of his head.

Uri settled rather quickly, Elain reckoned. He’d been awed by the size of the house, the many rooms and all the comfort he could find in it. He loved spending time in front of the fire, or in the kitchen with Elain as she baked him his favorite desserts (blueberry anything).

But most of all, he loved his bedroom.

She and Azriel had spent a long while debating on how to decorate it, and in the end had settled on few things. The bed, appropriate for his age, had a dark oak bed frame, which went perfectly with the cobalt blue bedding Elain had insisted on getting, as it was similar to the one in the orphanage. The wardrobe matched the bed, like the bookshelves. Az had snuck in a rocking chair, too, blushing as he admitted to her that being cuddled by his mother in one had brought him a great deal of comfort when he was recovering.

There were a few toys scattered on the floor, but they’d decided against buying him too many things. Elain planned on taking him shopping in the Rainbow of Velaris, giving him the choice to choose the things he liked— clothes, toys, shoes.

Uri had stared at her wide-eyed as she’d explained why he didn’t have many things as of yet, like it was too great a gift to even consider.

Though he’d adjusted fairly well, he seemed to be always looking over his shoulders, as if he was expecting someone to be there. Shaking her head, Elain thought it was probably his father, the memory of him, of what he’d done, haunting him from so far away.

They were baking a cake — lemon flavored this time, because Uri had shyly confessed he wanted to try it — when he broached the subject.

“When will Mr. Azriel come by?”

Elain paused. “I’m not sure. I guess soon,” was all she could offer.

Truth to be told, things between her and Az had been… strange. Ever since the day she’d come to his place, he’d acted oddly in her presence. She’d scrambled through her thoughts to see if she’d done anything to upset him, if perhaps she’d acted too familiar with him, but she’d come up empty.

Maybe Rhys had telepathed upsetting news and that’s why he’d behaved that way. But it wouldn’t explain why that had persisted in the following days. It had been almost two weeks since that day, yet he still had trouble meeting her eyes.

The other option, the one that made her heart squeeze painfully, was that he’d still regretted that Solstice Night.

Elain had been embarrassed for months on end by his rejection, barely being able to stay in a room with him, but now… Now, thanks to Nuala and Cerridwen’s help, she’d come to terms with the fact that he did not want her. At first, the words hurt her. She’d been sure her feelings were reciprocated, after all, but now she could say them almost painlessly.

Perhaps Az hadn’t gotten over the embarrassment yet. All Elain cared was that his feelings for her — or the lack thereof — wouldn’t come in the way of Uri’s recovery. Deep down, she knew they wouldn’t, but his silence in the past days troubled her.

“Is he working?” Uri interrupted her thoughts.

“Umh?” Elain shook her head. “I’m not sure. Do you want me to ask?”

He looked confused at that.

“What’s wrong?”

It was his turn to shake his head. “Does he beat the bad guys and take them into the Prison?” He asked instead.

She smiled at that. “That’s Cassian’s job. But Az does help him at times, yes. He fought in the War,” she explained, piquing his interest. “Oh, yes. But Az mainly finds information about bad people, and forces them to confess their wrong doings.”

Uri clapped in youthful excitement. “I wanna be like him when I grow up.”

It was then that Elain noticed the tendrils of shadows coming in from the front door.

A few moments later, Azriel appeared.

To people who didn’t know him, he looked perfectly impassive. But she had spent months looking at him, throwing him glances when she thought no one was looking, studying his perfect features, his silences — yes, there were different ones. She appreciated each one of them, loved the way his eyes tightened when he was worried about something, the way they brightened when he listened to Mor and Cassian’s bickering — his expressions. The one he was wearing now told her he’d heard Uri’s words. Told her they had moved something in him, their effect too great to be put into words.

“Az,” Elain breathed, and blindly saw Uri turn to him, too.

“Good evening,” said Az, and even his voice betrayed the emotion he was trying his best to bury.

“Hi, Mr. Azriel.” Uri sounded timid. She smiled, well aware that it meant he looked up to the male, that he saw him as a role model.

“I already told you, little guy, just Azriel is fine,” said Az, ruffling the boy’s dark hair. The child blushed under the affectionate attention.

Right then, the Illyrian male looked straight at her.

Her breath caught in her throat at the intensity with which he was looking at her.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded, confused at the question. The light in his eyes seemed to dim at her silent reply, leaving her even more puzzled.

But before she could mull his reaction over — which she totally added to the list of strange reactions she’d gathered from him in the past days — he announced, “I talked with the family’s healer, and we decided to add a salve to the regimen. That way, your wings will be able to heal without leaving any scars. What do you think, Uri?”

The boy looked at him, before his gaze slid down to the older male’s scarred hands. “Why didn’t you put it on your hands, too?”

Elain’s mouth hung open, and she shot Azriel a mortified look. But the shadowsinger’s attention was entirely on the Illyrian boy as he answered, “Because the people who hurt me made it so the scars could never be removed.” He seemed to notice Uri’s distress at that, because he bent to his eye level and added, “I got used to it. Plus, it scares the bad guys enough so that they will confess to everything rather quickly.”

Uri smiled. “So you can come by more often?”

Az paused. Then he nodded, slowly, as if his shadows had whispered something in his ears.

Elain wondered at that, at the slightly surprised, soft expression on his face.

Yet it was gone in the next blink of eyes, his face turning impassive once again.

She saw as he opened his mouth, about to make his leave, but Uri spoke up before he could. “Will you come by tomorrow, Mr. Azriel?”

Az hesitated. “I’m not sure.” He glanced at Elain, who shrugged. Uri needed a good male influence in his life. Azriel was one. “I– You see, I have to work–”

“You can come after. Right, Miss Elain?” He asked her.

She nodded. “We could go shopping. You’re in need of clothes, sweet boy.”

Azriel sighed. He knew there was no arguing with the child who had him wrapped around his tiny finger.

Elain giggled a little, as if she could read the thought on his face. He glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. She smiled, and went back to the pie.

“I know, I know it hurts,” Elain murmured, fighting back her tears as Uri cried out for the fourth time.

One of the steps of the recovery included a salve to be applied on the scars on his little wings. It only needed to be applied three times, the tonic taking doing most of the work, yet it was painful. Az had warned them both, but nothing could have prepared Elain for the pure agony in Uri’s screams and cries.

She wondered how his father could stand it as he hurt him, over and over again. It made the blood in her veins boil from the hot anger she felt.

Madja was applying the salve carefully, taking great care of his pain, while Elain and Azriel comforted him. Uri was clutching Az’s hand so tight, while his head was resting on Elain’s shoulders. She kept dropping kisses on it, but she knew nothing they did now would ease his pain.

Afterward, Elain gathered him in his arms and sat on the rocking chair Az had thoughtfully insisted they get. She was telling him a tale, one her father used to tell her when she was Uri’s age, all while drying his tears and murmuring soothing words.

Azriel sat on a nearby chair, listening raptly. His features were troubled with distress, for what had been done to the boy, for what he now had to go through.

When Elain finally laid the child on his bed, who was fast asleep, her heart was heavy, and she knew Az’s was, top. She watched Uri, and she reached to smooth the furrows in his brows, pain still etched on his face even in sleep. Azriel dropped a kiss on his forehead, and left a stuffed toy next to him. A new present. He always left him something new after one of the healing sessions.

They got out of his room, and Elain managed a few steps before her legs failed.

She cried, silently, as she’d learned to when she was a girl.

Strong arms wrapped around her, and she leaned her head back against the equally strong chest. She didn’t know how long they stayed in that position, as she tried her best to muffle her sobs and Az tried to calm her. At some point, she could have sworn she felt a tear drop on her hair.

It was the most vulnerable she had allowed herself to be.

“Can I play with my toys?”

Elain looked at Uri. She was reading a gardening catalog, interested in finding new flowers to grow.

Uri was supposed to study his letters, which was exactly what she told him.

“But I’m bored and tired, Elain. I’m hungry,” he complained.

One of the hardest things she’d had to learn, Elain found, was understanding when to give in to Uri’s requests, and when she needed to be firm. After almost a month, though, she thought she had the hang of it.

“No, but,” she added, when he started to make the face she knew meant he was ready to protest, “you can take a break from studying to have a healthy snack before Azriel comes for your flying lesson.”

Azriel had been clear from the start: his wings would never fully heal if he didn’t keep them in good condition, and that meant flying.

Today was going to be the first lesson, after more than two weeks since they last applied the salve and given him the tonic.

Uri lowered his gaze to the ground, and didn’t say anything back. Elain furrowed her brows. When she’d first met Uri, his silences were common, his hesitation expected. But in the month and a half since he’d moved in with her, he’d started making his voice heard. He wasn’t scared of speaking his mind anymore, he’d throw tantrums as was expected for his age, he’d laugh so hard that tears came out from his eyes.

So it was concerning to see him so… quiet, now. But what she learned above all was that he hated being pushed into talking. It usually brought a smile to her face, because he reminded her so much of Azriel. If she hadn’t met Cassian, she’d most likely think it was an Illyrian trait.

Elain watched him carefully as he ate, trying to gauge what was troubling him.

He was still eating when Az appeared. Something akin to longing flashed in his eyes as he took them in, but it was gone in the next instant.

“Hi,” she greeted him with a smile, and he answered with one of his own. It brought a light flush to her cheeks.

In the weeks they’d spent together, her infatuation for Azriel had grown stronger again. Well, it wasn’t like it had gone anywhere, but ever since his rejection a year ago, she’d tried to move on. She’d distanced herself from him, as he did the same, and she’d surrounded herself with her family and friends. But now, in this house, just the three of them… It was almost like he’d never broken her heart. Elain kept scolding herself, reminding herself that he did not want her that way. She tried to tell her heart how bad it hurt when he called their almost-kiss a mistake, but it wouldn’t listen. Azriel was the male she wanted, and she now knew that would never change.

“Hi, Azriel,” said Uri quietly. Az’s eyebrows raised at his gloomy tone, and he looked at Elain inquisitively. She raised her shoulders, silently telling him she didn’t know what happened.

“Are you ready for our lesson?” He tried to cheer the Illyrian child up.

Uri burst into tears.

It took both the adults by surprise, enough so that they didn’t react initially.

But then Azriel was by his side, holding the small boy to himself. “What’s wrong, baby?”

Uri wailed louder at that.

Az kept rubbing his back, soothing him. Elain watched the two of them, her heart racing in her chest.

“I’m s-sorry,” Uri tried to say through his sobs.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I’m not good. I’m bad,” he kept crying.

“Why do you say that?” Az asked calmly, steadily.

“I can’t fly. I don’t know how to,” he whispered, ashamed.

The shadowsinger’s hands paused. He seemed frozen to the spot for a few beats, but in the next he said, almost growling, “You’re not bad for not knowing how to fly. It’s not your fault.”

Uri shuddered at that, though he stopped sobbing. A few tears kept rolling down his cheeks.

“I was older than you when I learned how to fly,” Az confessed. “My step-mother wasn’t… nice, neither were my brothers. But my friends, my real brothers, they taught me how to fly. They were patient, and kind, and so I will be with you. And in a few centuries, when I’m old as withered and you young and fit, you’ll be a better flier than me. I promise,” he said solemnly.

Uri sniffled, but didn’t say anything for a long while.

“I wish you were my father,” he whispered, so low, that she knew she was able to hear him only thanks to her Fae hearing.

Azriel froze. He paled as he pulled back to stare at the little boy in his arms. Elain’s heart had soared in her throat at his words. She scrambled to find something to say, but Az beat her to it. “Me too, baby, me too.” Then, he hugged him back, and she was unsure who needed the hug more.

She left them to their sweet moment, and went back to her catalog. A while later, she heard the front door open and close. A quick glance at the window told her the two Illyrians had begun their lesson.

Though Elain had prepared dinner, Uri was too tired to even eat that night. Elain let it slide, as she had expected this and had given him substantial food before. She was about to ask him if he was ready for bed when he faced Azriel and asked him, “Will you read me my story tonight?”

Az froze. He glanced at Elain, a panicked, helpless look on his face.”I–”

“Maybe not tonight, sweet boy,” she intervened. Uri turned back to her, his brows furrowed. “Azriel is tired after training you all afternoon. He needs to rest,” she explained.

He seemed to hunch in on himself, mulling over her words. Then he straightened his spine, a clever glint in his eyes, his earlier tiredness seemingly vanished. “Then we’ll read to him!”

This time, both adults froze. They looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Elain lifted a shoulder. Azriel inclined his head. Her eyes widened slightly. His lips quivered. She gave a nod, his following shortly after.

Elain turned to Uri. “That’s a great idea. Let’s go get ready for bed, and tomorrow morning I’m making blueberry muffins.”

Both Illyrians looked at her with interest. She shook her head affectionately. She’d learned pretty quickly that they both loved blueberry muffins. Specifically, her muffins.

Uri clapped excitedly, and ran to his room. She grinned as her eyes followed him until he disappeared behind the corner.

Az cleared his throat, bringing her attention back to him. “I’m sorry for intruding.”

She shook her head. “You’re not. Uri likes you, he’s made it pretty clear, he wants to be around you,” she laughed softly. “I’m sorry for keeping you here. I know you probably have somewhere else to be, and–”

“I don’t.” He stepped closer to her.

Elain met his gaze. “Oh.” She didn’t know what to say to that. Did that mean he wanted to be here? “Well, I’m glad then that we’re not…hindering any of your plans.” “You’re not.” He stepped even closer, until there was nothing but a breath between them.

“Good. That’s good.” She swallowed, her heart pulsing in her throat.

“It is. Good, I mean,” he said, his voice low, lower than she’d ever heard it. “Elain… I need to tell you something.”

Her heart started beating faster. “Oh?”

“Yes,” he murmured. “There’s something I should have told you a long ti–”

“Elain, Azriel, I’m ready,” Uri called out from his room.

They both turned to the sound, and that was when Elain noticed how closer they’d gotten. They jerked apart, and went to the Illryian child.

Az willed his thoughts away as he laid down on his bed.

He watched as Uri sat at his side, Elain at the foot of the bed.

He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He thought he ought to be embarrassed, the Spymaster of the Night Court being read to sleep by a four-year-old, but… But he found he was willing to do whatever it took to put a smile on the boy’s face, and the female that was taking care of him. Because Elain was smiling, too, as she looked at Uri. The latter had a kid’s book open on his laps, and was staring at Az expectantly.

“I’m ready,” Azriel confirmed, and Uri nodded, satisfied.

And then he began to read.

It was an effort to keep his laughter in. A quick glance toward Elain told him that she, too, was struggling.

At four years old, Uri still didn’t know how to read — no doubt also thanks to his parents. The story he was telling tonight consisted of describing the pictures depicted in the book.

“Oh, and here’s a tall house. Wow, there’s a princess, too,” he gasped, excitedly.

Az smiled at that, his heart content that Uri’s unease had slowly peeled away in the days he moved in with Elain.

He lay there, and after a while he pretended to fall asleep.

“Elain, I think he’s sleeping,” Uri whisper-yelled.

“He sure is,” Elain agreed. “What do you think, shall we go to sleep, too?”

“Yes,” was the child’s answer.

A few seconds later, Az felt small lips press against his cheek. “Good night, Azriel. Sweet dreams,” said Uri against his skin.

Something warmed in Azriel’s chest at the words. His throat burned, and it took all the control he’d mastered over the years not to let that feeling spill.

“It’s your turn now, Elain,” Uri ordered.

“What?” He heard her ask, and Cauldron damn him, he needed to see the look on her face.

“You need to kiss him goodnight.”

“I’m sure that’s not necessary, Uri,” she protested.

“But what if he gets a nightmare?”

He couldn’t see her, but he knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling. The knowledge came from a place inside him, somewhere he couldn’t touch, yet he knew was there.

So he braced himself for the touch of her lips as they pressed a kiss onto his cheek.

It was a chaste kiss, yet Az nearly groaned out loud. His body tensed with the craving that overtook his body, the need of having her, in all the ways he’d thought of. And he’d spent a long while considering all the ways he wanted her.

“Have sweet dreams, Az,” she whispered, and then he felt them leave.

His name on her lips… It did things to him that he had never contemplated.

He got up, ever so silently made his way to the kitchen. While he waited for Elain, he began cleaning up the mess on the countertop.

A while later, Elain came into the room.

“You’re still here,” she breathed.

Azriel nodded, his gaze fixed on her. It was a damn effort to keep from reaching out and gathering her in his arms.

Az watched as she swallowed. Then she nodded, and asked him, “Do you have anything on his family?”

Azriel’s temper flared at her words, at the reminder. “Not yet. The Illyrian camps… There are many of them.”

She nodded. “I know.” Elain cleared her throat. “I’m sorry, for earlier. For the kiss,” she clarified, though there was no need.

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” was all he said.

“That’s good. I wanted to apologize in case it bothered you.”

He let out a low chuckle. “It didn’t.”

Her eyes flashed with resentment at his laugh. “It did last time.”

He stopped laughing.

Elain knew it was a low blow, but she hadn’t been able to hold the words in. She bit her lower lip as the silence between them stretched.

Azriel didn’t back down from her stare as he said, “El… It never bothered me. I wanted it. I wanted you.” He took a step toward her.

The truth in his words stunned her. Yet her heart crumpled in her chest. “Then why?” She fisted her hands, anger and confusion and hurt battling inside her. “Why did you say it was a mistake?”

He hesitated. She let out a hollow laugh. “Right.” She made to leave for her room, when a scarred hand stopped her.

“Rhys stopped me.”

She whirled on him. “What.”

“Rhys stopped me,” he repeated, his hand still on her wrist. “There were too many things at play and I… I was a coward. I should have fought for you, and I didn’t. I’m a bastard.”

Her eyes burned. “So you let me believe you rejected me? That you didn’t want me? For a year?” She whispered, hurt clear in her voice.

He swallowed. “I’m a bastard,” he said again. “I don’t deserve you. I am nothing but a coward.”

Then, he did something she never would have expected him to do.

He went to his knees. “I am not worthy of your forgiveness, nor of your heart, Elain Archeron. But I’m selfish, and if you find it in yourself to give me both, I will greedily take them.” He grabbed her hands between his scarred ones. “I love you. Until I am nothing but ash scattered through the wind, I am yours.”

Her vision was blurry. “What changed,” she asked breathlessly.

Az was quiet for a few beats. Then, “I have always been in love with you. Please, never doubt that, I beg you. Even during all the months we’ve spent apart, my feelings for you never changed, never faltered.” He took a deep breath. “A month ago, when you barged into my house and you learned these scars came from my brothers… I felt it. I felt it snap.”

The air left her.

“I felt the mating bond between us snap.”

She thought about that day. She remembered how… feral she went as he told her what his brothers had done to him, his strange reaction as he all but kicked her out from his house.

Ten months ago, Elain had rejected the mating bond with Lucien Vanserra. He’d done it, too, but they went beyond simple rejection. They’d cleaved it, just so that it would never haunt either of them again.

Now, she was faced with another mating bond.

Azriel was still on his knees before her. “I don’t know how it’s possible, I’ve been trying to find answers, but it’s never happened before.” He took a deep breath. “I didn’t tell you,” he began. “Because we needed to get Uri settled in, heal him. And I needed to know where you stood, if you still believed I was a male worthy of you.”

He slowly got up. “But now… Now I find myself unable to stay away from you any longer. I love you, I want you, I need you. You fill my thoughts when I wake up, as I go on about my day, when I go to sleep. You’re in my dreams, too, where we and Uri are our own little family.”

Elain couldn’t breathe, her emotions choking her.

She brought her arms around his neck, her hands tugging on his hair, and whispered, “I love you. I tried to move one, but I couldn’t. I love you.”

Then, without breaking their eye contact, she offered him the mashed potatoes she’d cooked earlier.

She barely saw the blatant joy in his eyes before he sat down and began eating.

Elain watched him carefully as he ate all of it, not leaving one crumb. Then he got up and pressed his lips to her, like a starved animal.

He groaned in relief as she parted her mouth slightly. He brought her closer to him, until her small breasts were flush against his hard chest.

One of his arms was around her waist, his hand dangerously low, his other in her hair. She tried to get closer even still. She moaned when she felt his hardened length against her lower belly.

He lifted her up and deposited her on the kitchen counter, one of his legs coming between hers and making space for itself. His knee brushed the spot between her legs, and she moaned again.

He fisted the dress she was wearing until it bunched up to her waist. His gaze turned even hotter as the sight of her undergarments came into view. He cursed.

“I need you. Now. I can’t wait,” he said, urgency in his voice, though an apology lay in his eyes.

“Yes, yes, please,” she agreed, bringing his body close to hers.

He undressed them, throwing their clothes to his shadows. His eyes turned molted gold as they fixed on her wetness. “Beautiful,” he whispered, before his lips kissed that sweet that gave her so much pleasure. He slid a finger in, and the sensation was too much. Stars exploded behind her eyes as she rode those waves of passion.

He was inside her before her orgasm had even finished. He groaned as he settled all the way in, and the sound sent a shiver down her spine. She whimpered as he began thrusting, the sheer size of him knocking the breath out of her lungs. Az covered her body with his own, his quickened breaths beating against her neck.

He laid one of his hands on her breast, his mouth on the other, as he kept pumping deep inside her until she saw white, hot pleasure. He spilled inside her, bit the peak of her breast. The sting was almost enough to bring in a new orgasm.

“My love, my life,” he breathed against her neck.

They went four more times that night, exploring each other, claiming each other, until the first lights of dawn appeared in the sky. They lied on the bed, their bed now, and talked about everything and anything. He shared the years in his father’s cell, she her childhood years. They talked about the feelings they felt for each other, their plans for the future.

They were strangers to sleep that day, but they didn’t mind. It was the happiest they’d ever been in their whole lives.

Rhys had been outraged when he'd heard of the orphanage, about all those kids who now didn’t have a family to take care of them, about the state of the building they were staying in.

Elain was making a list of the things that needed fixing — the large sum provided by the High Lord was more than enough — when Azriel winnowed in the town house.

“I found him,” were the words he used to greet her.

Elain turned to him, a confused look on her face. She’d been in the middle of writing down a vision she’d just had when he barged in. “Found him? What– What do you–” Her eyes widened as a sense of clarity came over her. Uri’s father. “You– You did?”

“Yes.” His jaw ticked, fury overshadowing his eyes. “I notified Cassian. I believe he’s taking that piece of shit to the Prison as we’re speaking.”

“The Prison?” Not much was known about the terrible place, but Rhys had asked her if she could use her Cauldron-blessed powers to look into a creature inside a few months back. She shuddered as images of what she’d learned flashed in her mind.

“It’s where he deserves to be.”

“What do you know,” she asked, though it was more of a statement.

“You don’t want to know, trust me,” he growled.

Elain’s spine went ramrod straight. “I do, actually. I want to know what he did to my– to Uri.” She meant it. She also meant the words that almost slipped out. My son. She had come to think of him as such.

Az studied her. After a few minutes, he nodded. “There was only one bed in the… hut they lived in. There were barely a few clothes fit for a child, most of them cut from an older male’s. There was no trace of his mother.” He went silent for a few seconds. “She died during childbirth, because her mate,” he spat out the word. “Refused to take her to a healer. What makes it even worse, he runs a business. A successful business. He had the means to provide for his mate and son, he just refused to.”

All the rage, all the icy fury she’d been brewing over the past weeks, increased tenfold when he finished speaking. But she managed to stifle it as she quietly demanded, “I want to speak to him.”

Azriel shook his head. “You can’t.”

Elain watched him defiantly. “I can. Bring me to him.”

“No, you can’t, and I won’t.” He repeated.

“He hurt my son. Our son. He beat him, burned him, starved him. I want to speak to him.” She raged. She meant it, the word that slipped out. Son. She had come to think of him as such in the past two months, his love and affection and trust something she longed to keep for eternity. She knew Az agreed with her every word.

Azriel’s eyes brightened with unshed tears. “I know, I know. Do you think I don’t want to do the same?” He shook his head. “Do you know what my shadows told me, that first night I came here?” He didn’t wait for her reply. “Uri thought we were mated, that he’d joined our family. And he was right, he’s our son. That’s why we can’t retaliate against his father. We need to think of Uri. Of what he wants. Maybe in the future, when’s a grown male, he wants to meet with him, to go back to him again. We can’t stop it, we can’t jeopardize it.”

“No! I don’t want to go back to him. I want to be with you!”

They whirled around, not having heard Uri come in. Elain watched as Uri’s face turned bright red. “Don’t take me back to him. Dad, please,” he begged.

Az swayed on his feet at the word with which Uri called him. He rasped out, “Never, my baby. My son.” He lifted him in his arms and hugged him, holding him close to his chest.

Elain walked over to them. Azriel let her in their embrace, kissing his son and his mate.

“Mom,” Uri said quietly. “Stay here. I don’t want you near him, he’s mean.” Elain blinked back tears at that. But she nodded, and held them tighter.

Her loves, her life.

#elriel fic #elriel #pro elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar #adoption #canon divergence #elriel fanfic

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roselensedeyes · 8 months

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How could I not reblog this fan art when I wrote a fic about this scene?!

It's so beautiful too😍

“This time, you sent the trembling fawn to find me. I did not expect to see those doe-eyes peering at me from across the world.”

Happy Elain Archeron Week Day 6: Fanged Beast

One of my absolute favorite theories in this fandom is that Elain will be able to traverse the murky realm, like the Mystics in HOSAB. @wingedblooms incredible mind connects details in a way most only dream of and has helped to further my excitement for Elain’s book and journey. You can find the two main theories that inspired this piece here and here.

The first time we see Elain peer across the world, she is doing so as a trembling fawn, but my hope is that, she will peer across worlds on her way to becoming a fanged beast and embrace that side of her in her own book.

In this piece, Elain has left behind Az and Bryce in Velaris, and stepped into the murky realm, only to be greeted by a waiting Apollion, mirroring Az. Apollion’s black eyes, deep and dark as the Pit in which he dwells- a telltale sign that his relaxed posture is nothing more than a trick to give a false sense of calm. But I have confidence Elain’s fangs and claws will get her back home.

A massive thank you to @luxury_banshee on IG for creating this piece for me💕

You can find this art on IG here

Please do not repost

@elainarcheronweek

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar

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roselensedeyes · 8 months

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Sisters of the Moon

Happy @elainarcheronweek everyone! For Day Two: Sister and Friend, I wrote a short one shot about Feyre and Elain travelling the continent like they wanted to in book one. I liked writing this story, I resonate a lot with both Feyre and Elain! I hope you enjoy this!

Pairing: elriel (if you squint)

Rating: sfw

Word count: 3.3 k

Elain Archeron adjusted her floppy hat and sighed. They were late.

She couldn’t even be mad, not really.

A few months ago, her sister, Feyre, and her brother-in-law, Rhysand, had approached her with a proposal she couldn’t refuse. At first, she’d been wary when she saw the two of them walk toward her with two big smiles on their faces. But as they talked, her wariness turned into delight. She’d accepted readily, squealing and clapping her hands like a child who had been given her favorite candy.

Now, two months later, Elain was waiting in front of the carriage that was supposed to take her, Feyre and her nephew, Nyx, to the coast. From there, they’d get on a ship that would take them to the continent.

Elain remembered a conversation with her sister a few years prior, where they’d decided to travel the continent together. She’d be the first to admit she’d forgotten all about that, what with the war and Feyre’s pregnancy. But it appeared her younger sister hadn’t forgotten it, and for her birthday this year, decided to give Elain this precious gift.

The three of them would go by themselves at first, and Rhys would join them after a couple of weeks. He’d claimed he had to look over the finances, but Elain knew it was just an excuse. He’d never leave Feyre and Nyx for more than a few hours, but he wanted to allow his mate and her sister bond, to give them a chance to build a relationship their childhoods denied them.

Nyx, or Nyxie, as he was lovingly called by his family, however, was still too young to be away from Feyre for weeks, which meant he’d have to come with them, consequently meaning Rhysand wouldn’t see him for two weeks. It came as no surprise, then, that they were late. He was probably soaking up all the love his mate and their child had to give him.

Elain’s heart clenched at the thought. She yearned for a love like theirs, to create a family as beautiful as theirs. But it wasn’t her time, not yet. Soon, she would have all of it. She just had to be patient.

She sighed and leaned against the carriage door. Elain glanced up at the sky, her hat shielding her brown eyes from the sun’s blinding light, hoping to catch Feyre and Rhysand in the sky. The warmth kissed her cheeks, and she closed her eyes, bathing in it. It was a quiet morning, the occasional chirping of birds in the distance the only sound. The sweet perfume of her flowers reached her nostrils, and she inhaled its scent. Elain let out another sigh. It was such a peaceful moment.

She snapped her eyes open as a thumping sound came from a few feet in front of her. She heard, more than saw, Nyx let out a happy gurgle. Elain couldn’t help the smile that broke out on her face. She loved her nephew more than anything else in the world.

Nyx saw her and started squealing excitedly, babbling, “tee, tee”, which Elain knew meant auntie. She headed towards them, her arms out to grab Nyx. After peppering him with kisses, Elain settled him in her arms, his head gently laying in the crook of her neck, she finally turned toward her sister and brother-in-law.

Rhysand was the first to plant a big kiss on her cheeks, followed by Feyre who tried to hug her around her son. “Hi, Elain. Sorry for being late.”

She waved her apologies away. “It’s no matter, I understand. Is everything ready now?”

Feyre nodded, just as Rhysand helped put their trunks on the second carriage, a smaller one. They chatted a bit more, with Rhys holding and kissing and cuddling his son and mate. Elain looked away at that, giving them their privacy.

It was then that she noticed three other figures. She huffed out a laugh. The sound startled one of them, the female one. Nesta, her older sister.

Elain approached them, a bright smile on her face. “Hi, Nesta.”

Nesta smiled back at her.

Ever since she’d started training with Cassian and her friends, Nesta had become happier, healthier. She’d gained some weight, her skin had a healthy glow to it that made her devastatingly beautiful. Though the biggest change in her older sister were her features. They were no longer sharp and severe. No, now they were graced by soft, bright smiles, the crinkles around her eyes proof of it.

“Elain,” Nesta greeted her. She gestured to the two Illyrian males flanking her sides. “We wanted to wish you and Feyre safe travels. We didn’t want to interrupt the two love birds, though”. The second part was accompanied by an affectionate eye roll. Elain smiled, just as Cassian snorted.

“That’s bullshit. You were trying not to cr—ouch!” Nesta elbowed him in the stomach, effectively stopping him from continuing. Yet Elain knew what he meant to say.

She turned to look at her older sister. Feyre and Elain had asked Nesta if she wanted to come with them on their travels, but unfortunately she and her friends, along with Mor and Cassian, were to start a training class for the other priestesses and had to decline the offer. Elain knew it ate away at Nesta, that she felt like she was disappointing her sisters once again, no matter how many times Feyre and Elain assured her that it wasn’t the case.

The relationship between the three sisters had improved since the day Nyx was born, since the day they had almost lost Feyre and Rhysand. It was what had brought them closer, the freight of losing one of them for good gave them the push they needed to form the relationship they always should have had.

“I wish you could come with us Nesta, but,” Elain rushed to add when she saw Nesta’s face fall. “I understand why you can’t. What you’re doing is admirable, the help you can offer these women is nothing short of amazing. I’m proud of you, I’m proud to call you my sister.”

A faint blush dusted Nesta’s cheeks, deepening the more Elain spoke. Elain saw Cassian’s hand land on the small of his mate’s back, offering her a small comfort.

Elain glanced at the other male. Azriel. He was already staring at her, an intense look in his eyes that made her own cheeks flush. She quickly looked away, a strange fluttering in her chest. He’d always had that effect on her, since the first time she’d laid eyes on him, when she was still engaged to Graysen.

Elain shook her head, willing those thoughts away. Today was about her and Feyre— and Nyx— not anyone else.

Her younger sister and her family had joined them, Nyx now latching onto his uncle Cass— or, as he called him, Unc Cashy. She probably was biased, Elain knew, but she firmly believed that Nyx was the most adorable baby in existence.

Several minutes later, Elain and her younger sister waved their family goodbye as the carriage moved forward. Feyre had Nyx on her knees, her hand wrapped loosely around his tiny wrist to make him wave at his father and uncles and aunt. Elain could have sworn Rhysand’s eyes were shining with unshed tears.

As their figures became smaller and smaller, Elain turned to face her beloved sister again. “Thank you. For this trip,” she said.

A small graced Feyre’s lips. “There’s no need. I wanted to do this, with you.”

Flashes of their childhood blurred Elain’s visions, making her recall those winter nights that the three sisters spent cuddled in that too-tiny bed, seeking a warmth not even the fireplace could offer. Those scorching hot summer nights, when sleeping was rendered uncomfortable by the inevitable sweating, and the fights and ugly words that ensued. Their rumbling, aching bellies when Feyre was unable to hunt any animal, and the money too scarce to afford anything other than stale bread.

A knot formed in her throat, and no matter how many times she tried, Elain couldn’t seem to swallow past it.

“I’m sorry, you know,” she whispered.

Feyre inclined her head inquisitively. “What for?”

Elain swallowed again. “For the way your childhood was. You were the youngest in our household, yet we forced you to be the adult. I’m sorry you were never allowed to be a child, I’m sorry we never taught you how to read. You deserved better, and we—I disappointed you.”

Quietness enveloped the carriage, Nyx’s babbling the only sound to be heard.

When Feyre at last spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “You don’t have to apologize. I’ve already forgiven you. I spent years of my life resenting you and Nesta for not helping me enough, even when I begged you to. I always felt like I didn’t belong, and I resented you for that too.” She shook her head. “I’m ashamed to admit I hated you for how close you were. And I blamed you for it, because if I didn’t have to focus on making sure there was food on the table and enough wood to warm us during the coldest nights, then maybe I could become a part of your bond too. It was all I ever wanted.”

Elain’s sight became blurry, and she felt a lone tear run down her cheek. It was soon followed by countless others, yet not a sound came out of her. She’d learned through the years how useful silent crying was.

“I’m so sorry. The way we treated you, I– It’s my biggest regret. I wish I could have a good enough reason.” The guilt was clear in her words.

Feyre smiled faintly. “I appreciate your words, though unnecessary as they might be. As I was saying, that’s how I felt. Becoming a mother gave me a whole new perspective.”

The High Lady of the Night Court adjusted her son in her arms as she reached forward to grab her older sister’s hands. “Elain, you and Nesta were not responsible for me, for our house. Our father was. He was the one who failed me, failed all of us. Should you two have helped me out? Perhaps. But it wasn’t your job, it wasn’t your role. I took it on when I saw he wasn’t going to move a finger, and I would have appreciated your help, but I can’t, I refuse to imagine my Nyxie taking on a role his living parent should do.”

Elain had to hide her wince at Feyre’s words. It stung hearing her be so harsh to their father, though he deserved it.

While Nesta was doted on by their mother and grandmother, Elain had been pretty much ignored by them. They’d always speak to her with a condescending tone whenever she talked about her garden and plants, always dismissing her as she tried making herself heard. She remembers spending sleepless nights silently crying in her bed, trying to conjure up ways to make her mother love and listen to her.

She never succeeded.

Yet her father never once made her feel wrong or stupid, always made her feel like she was more than just a pretty face, as she’d once overheard her mother call her. The sweetest memories of Elain’s childhood were of sitting on her father’s knees, telling him all the new things she’d learned about plants, of the best way to grow orchids, and how to get rid of ivy. He’d ooh and ahh at the right times, and in turn would tell her all the flowers he’d seen on his travels to the continent, and promised her he would one day take her to see them.

He never did, and now, he never would honor his vow to her.

But her father broke more than one promise. Feyre was right, their father had betrayed them the moment he gave up. He had failed them in the most painful way a parent could fail their child. She remembered the hours staring at her father, willing him to get up, to do something, anything, and the feeling of betrayal churning in her stomach. Elain had tried to make excuses for him. She’d tried to remember those moments in the garden under the sun, her father, his kind eyes so much like hers, reassuring that all would be well, that the next time her flowers would bloom, as his thumbs wiped away her tears. Yet none of the warm memories she recalled helped lessen the blow he’d dealt her.

Elain’s father had always been the one person on her side, until he wasn’t. Until he decided to let his shame wrap around him.

“You’re right,” Elain nodded to her sister. “But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have helped you. I wasn’t there for you, and I’m sorry. Like I wasn’t responsible for your well-being, neither were you of me. And yet you embraced it.”

Feyre nodded. “Perhaps. But I don’t resent you for it, and you shouldn’t beat yourself up.”

Elain smiled gratefully. She closed her eyes, hoping the rhythm of the carriage would lull her to sleep.

“I wasn’t there for you either, when you needed me the most.”

Feyre’s words made her eyes snap open. She opened her mouth, confused, but her sister went ahead.

“After what Graysen did I– I wasn’t there. I was focused on the war, and then Nyx and I never asked you how you were doing. If you needed help.”

“Oh,” was all Elain said. “No, don’t. They were more important than a break up.”

Feyre shook her head. “That doesn’t mean I couldn’t focus on you too.” She settled Nyx on her right knee, shifting her body so her left side leaned toward her older sister. “And it wasn’t just a break up. After what happened with Tamlin I–saying I was devastated doesn’t do it justice. Yet no one told me there were more important things to worry about.”

Feyre leaned back in her seat, watching Elain as she waited for her reply. Nyx looked up at his mom, a toothless smile breaking out on his face. She smiled softly back at him, her index grazing his soft cheek. He let out a giggle, his little wings fluttering behind him.

“You’ve always been there for me, Feyre. Even when you weren’t physically there, I could feel you in my heart. We’re sisters.”

She wasn’t ready to talk about Greysen, not yet. She’d gotten over him, rarely thought of him anymore, but the memory still brought her pain, and shame, at times. She’d thought he was the love of her life, but Elain had soon realized the ugly truth of it. No matter how many years passed, Elain was certain she’d never forget the pure hatred and disgust that had marred his features when he broke their engagement, when he’d seen the undeniable proof of her new being. It was the most heartbreaking, humiliating day of her life.

Feyre seemed to read this in her eyes, because she nodded and turned her attention to her son, who was delighting himself with tugging on her hair. Elain smiled at the sight, before casting her eyes on the view outside. It was now midday, the sun high in the sky, its heat almost scorching. The leaves on the trees were a bright green, blatant proof that spring was in full bloom. Closing her eyes in hope of some rest, the movements of the carriage rocked her to a quiet sleep, Nyx’ babbling and Feyre’s soft whispers in the background.

They didn’t travel the entire continent. No, that wouldn’t be feasible, the High Lady and High Lord couldn’t postpone their obligations for that long. Still, Elain’d been mesmerized by the dances and art, the peace that reigned over the territory. She’d acquired many unknown seeds, praying the Prythian climate and terrain would make them sprout. Feyre had promised her they could finish the tour some other time, but Elain had assured her she was content with things as they were. She’d hinted she might return with someone else, to Feyre’s surprise. Her sister had been delighted when she told her who, exactly, she’d travel the rest of the continent with.

Now, two weeks after they’d come back to the Night Court, Elain was getting ready for the welcome back party Nesta had insisted on throwing them. She’d been pretty adamant about it, too. It had stunned her two sisters, and the rest of their family too, really, but Nesta wouldn’t budge.

The lilac tulle dress she opted to wear hugged her curve nicely, but not tight enough to suffocate her. Summer was nearing, and with it the damp heat. Nuala had helped her braid her golden-brown hair in a crown plait. It wasn’t a hairstyle she usually wore, but Elain found she liked it with the gown she was put on.

Voices reached her pointed ears.

As she reached the bottom of the staircase, they became clearer and louder. She could hear Cassian’s booming laughter at something Nyx did, followed by Nesta’s reprimand. Her sister was anxious, Elain knew. She wanted everything to go smoothly. As the sitting room came into view, Elain could see Feyre and Rhysand sitting together, the High Lady’s back to his front, the Illyrian’s arm draped across her shoulder in an intimate, possessive gesture. They were looking in the same direction, to Cassian standing in front of the fireplace. Nyx was on the floor, his back to her, and she could see his wings flapping swiftly behind him. To her shock, her nephew started floating in the air. She almost cried out, but something poked her shoulder.

It was a shadow. Elain scanned the room until her eyes settled on its owner.

Azriel was on the other side of the room, near her. He shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. His ease made her relax slightly, and when she realized Feyre and Rhysand weren’t at all worried, she loosened up.

She gave Azriel a small of her own, noticed the way his eyes darkened as they fixed on her mouth. Elain felt a flush creep up her neck, and glanced away.

Nesta was already looking at her. Elain smiled and walked toward her, her arms already out to embrace her sister.

“Hi, Nes. Thank you for this,” she said.

Nesta smiled, tense. “I hope you like it. I’m not as good at this stuff as you.”

“It’s perfect. I love it, really.”

“If my mate didn’t try to injure my nephew, and subsequently destroy the decorations I spent a lot of time putting up, I’m sure it’s going to be a great night,” her sister said, throwing a faux glare in Cassian’s direction.

He chuckled. “It’s normal play for Illyrians. He’s going to need to learn sooner or later, and at least now all of us are here.”

Indeed, Amren and Mor were both in the room. Amren was reading a tome next to the shelves, while Mor was lounging on a chair.

Nesta huffed. “That doesn’t mean that I like it. I rather Nyx be in one piece, thank you very much.”

Feyre laughed. Nesta looked at her, saw the ease and contentment painted on her face, and smiled too. The first real smile of the night.

Elain sat in a chair near the shadows, and as she watched her family talk, laugh, and bicker, she couldn’t help but let a smile of her own come out.

When she’d seen this image, years ago, it had been impossible to believe they’d ever reach this level of lightheartedness. That they could all sit around in the same room and not tear each other’s throats out.

In the years since she was turned Fae, Elain Archeron had had many visions, some of them proving true, some that never saw the light of day.

As a shadow played with her hair, tickling her neck, she sent her thanks to the Mother for letting this one come true.

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roselensedeyes · 9 months

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i want to take a few quick seconds to thank the elriel community, you guys have been super kind to me and my work. i've never met such a welcoming group of people!

i have plans for future fics but i don't think they'll come until september at the very least.

again, thank you so much, you've made my week!

#elriel #pro elriel #thank you so much guys!#acotar #elain archeron #azriel

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roselensedeyes · 9 months

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Of tea and dreams

Hello everyone!

I hope August has been treating you well :) I'm sharing with you another elriel fic, this time we meet a special character...

You can find it on AO3 here.

CW: explicit language, NSFW

Word count: 5k

Enjoy!

Elain Archeron took a sip of her tea, frowning when she found it still too hot to drink. She placed it down on its plate. She again admired how finely it was made, the white porcelain delicately decorated with vines and irises. She wondered how much it must have cost, to afford such a marvelous tea set.

Her memories of her childhood, when her mother had still been alive and her family bathed in her father’s riches, were blurry. She had flashes of certain events, balls thrown in her or her sisters’ honor. What she could recall distinctly, however, was how she felt in those moments. She could remember feeling happy when she tended to her garden, her beautiful flowers could have passed for a painting her younger sister Feyre painted. She recalled attending balls with her sisters and their mother, watching her older sister Nesta dance with such mastery that made it seem easy. She could remember giggling with her friends when the guy she liked noticed her and told her she was pretty.

And then their wealth was taken away with vanished ships and her father’s broken leg.

Even though she wasn’t living in poverty anymore, Elain couldn’t shake off the memories of those years, the hunger and the cold. After Feyre had welcomed her and Nesta in her and her mate, the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand’s manor, she had begun to learn how to grow vegetables and fruit, as well as to bake and even a little cooking. She was terrified of waking up and realizing it had all been a dream, and she was still living in that freezing cottage, with little food and even less money.

Elain was reflecting on that as she was sipping her tea with Bethane, the elder Fae whose garden she tended to. Bethane had fast become her friend in the months since she first started helping her, despite their differences. The first being their age.

Yet that had not mattered, not at all, when they had much more things in common, like their passion for flowers, sweets, and tea. That they were both seers had helped them become even closer.

After being thrown into the Cauldron, it was revealed that Elain was a seer, had the ability to see the present as well as the future. Initially, she’d refused to acknowledge the truth, but soon realized that her power was needed for the ongoing war. So she’d sucked it up, and did as she was asked. After the war was over, though, she’d ignored the brief and confusing visions she’d at times get, and tried to live the normal life she always dreamed of having.

“You’re quiet today, Elain,” Bethane observed, her dark eyebrows slightly raised. Bethane was supposedly an elderly citizen, yet you couldn’t tell from her appearance. Her honeyed-colored skin was smooth, no wrinkles in sight, while her chestnut brown hair barely had any gray in it.

“I’m only tired. I couldn’t fall asleep last night,” Elain admitted.

“Did someone keep you company?” Bethane subtly asked, her eyes turning inquisitive.

Elain blushed deeply. Even after two years of living among the Fae, she still hadn’t gotten used to some of their customs, or quirks. Like their nonchalance regarding sex. Elain was no virgin, yet still she found she couldn’t discuss sex as freely as the Fae and her sisters did. She knew everyone thought her a prude, but she could still remember the teachings her mother and grandmother had instilled in her, and she couldn’t ignore them. For so long she had believed her discipline would ensure she’d find a good man who would protect her and make sure she’d live a happy life. Now, although she knew it wasn’t the truth, she found herself unable to break free from those teachings.

“Ah, well… No.” She paused, trying to find the right words. “I was thinking about someone, though.”

Bethane threw her a curious look. “Do tell.”

Elain felt her cheeks get even warmer. “Well, I’m afraid it’s not a story you will like. He broke my heart,” she said, quietly.

A protective look shone on Bethane’s face. “What fool would dare do that to you?” She asked, before adding, “Apart from your human man. Are you still thinking about him?” She sounded offended.

Elain gave a small chuckle. “No, I’m not. Someone else, a Fae male, did. Pathetic, isn’t it,” She admitted with a self-deprecating laugh.

Bethane shook her head fiercely. “You’re not, stop that. He’s a fool, he has no idea who he let go.” She reached forward and grabbed her hand. “Don’t wallow in self-pity, dear. You’re beautiful, but more than that you’re smart, and you’re kind. If a male can’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

Elain’s heart squeezed at her kind words. She’d always been called beautiful, since she was a child. She’d never been told her other qualities were more important than that, though.

She smiled gratefully at Bethane, inclining her head.

“Anyway, if you want a good male then you should go out with my son,” Bethane continued. Elain huffed out a laugh. The older female had been trying to set the two up since their first meeting. Too bad Elain had set her eyes on a hazel-eyed male, who, apparently, did not share her feelings.

It had been five months since that almost kiss with Azriel, the Illyrian Fae who had stolen her heart and crushed it with just a few words. She’d never told Bethane that she had fallen for Rhysand’s Spymaster. He was renowned, not only in the Night Court, but in the rest of Prythian, too. She knew Bethane had heard of him at least, so she’d never revealed her infatuation. Hadn’t told her about that fateful Winter Solstice night, either.

“He’s quiet, like you, a bit aloof perhaps, but he will tr–” She was cut off by a loud whoosh, as heavy feet landed near the table.

Elain yelped, yet Bethane didn’t do anything but roll her eyes in an affectionate way. She raised from her chair and approached whoever had crushed their afternoon tea.

“You could have told me you were coming! You interrupted my tea and scared my guest,” Bethane scolded, even as she wrapped her arms around the much bigger figure.

The figure let out a masculine chuckle, and something about it sounded familiar to Elain. She inclined her head, confused, just as Bethane turned around, allowing Elain to get a clear view of the male.

“Elain, let me introduce you to my son, Azriel,” she said excitedly.

Elain sat frozen, her eyes wide as they took in Azriel. As her brain tried to make sense of the words. My son, Azriel. The woman she’d come to think of as her confidante, her friend, was Azriel’s mother. They murmured hellos, still too shocked to say anything more.

“We were just talking about you, Az,” Bethane went on, not noticing the tension between her son and Elain.

Elain mustered a shaky smile when the older woman turned toward her. Azriel, on his part, stood ramrod still, his eyes fixed on Elain. She wasn’t sure if he was even breathing.

His mother– his mother— tugged on his hand. “Come sit down with us.”

Elain slid her chair backward. “Oh, no, I can just leave. I don’t want to intrude on your time.” She made to leave, but Bethane waved a hand and signaled she should sit down.

“Nonsense. You were already here, you’re not the intruder.”

She glanced at Azriel, even as she sat back down and smiled at his mother.

Bethane waved a hand in the air, a calling, and sure enough a servant appeared. She asked him to pour a cup of tea for Azriel, ignoring his weak protests.

The older woman watched him until he took the smallest sip of his tea, to which she nodded, satisfied.

“I’m so happy you two finally met. You’re my two favorite people in all of Prythian,” Bethane exclaimed, elation clear in her voice.

Elain glanced at Azriel again, and found him already looking at her. He quickly looked away, setting his eyes on his mother. “I’m happy to see you again. I’m sorry I haven’t been around recently, I’ve been busy.”

“No one is ever too busy for their mother,” Bethane said in lieu of a reply. “But let’s not change the topic. Az, have I ever told you about the nice young woman who gives me a hand with my garden?”

Azriel’s scarred hand tightened on the teacup. “I think you mentioned it once or twice,” he said, eyes still fixed on his mother.

“Right, I think I did. Elain is the young woman. She’s incredible at what she does!” Bethane exclaimed.

“I know,” Azriel nodded, then seemed to think about what he said because he added, “From what you’ve told me and what I can see.” He threw her a quick glance, before refocusing on Bethane.

“She was just telling me about how a male rejected her. What a fool,” the older woman said, shaking her head in disbelief.

Azriel choked on his next sip. Then he started coughing. The dark-haired female reached over and gently patted him on the back, a concerned look on her face.

“Are you alright, dear?”

He nodded, his head moving so fast Elain feared he might break his neck. “It just went down the wrong pipe,” he explained, still coughing. He’d brought his hand against his mouth, unconsciously flexing his muscled arm. Elain stared at it appreciatively.

“Oh, thank god. Anyway, the guy is a real jerk, Elain. You will find better, I’m sure of it,” Bethane turned toward, nodding along with what she was saying.

Elain felt a blush make its way up her neck. This time she was the one who refused to look at him, though she could feel Azriel burning a hole through her. She needed a change of topic, immediately.

She glanced at the window. “Oh Mother. I’ve been here for a long time already. I promised my sister I would watch her baby tonight, so she and her husband can go on a much-needed date.”

Not a lie, not entirely. She had promised to babysit Nyx for a few hours, tomorrow night. The identity of her family, of who her sisters actually were, was another thing she’d kept from Bethane. Every time she’d introduce herself as Elain Archeron, people would make the connection to Feyre and Nesta and start treating her differently, almost like she was a famous singer or writer. She’d try to explain she didn’t need any special treatment, that she was just Elain, but they wouldn’t hear a word about it. Someone had even dared to bow to Elain’s greatest horror. So she hadn’t uttered a word about it to Bethane, only introducing herself as Elain the gardener, Elain the seer. She’d felt ashamed about lying to the elder female like that, but it was the price for her friendship. She’d paid it without a second thought.

Bethane’s eyes lit up at the mention of Nyx, even though she obviously didn’t know that was her sister’s baby’s name. No, Bethane thought he was called Matthew.

“Then you should go. Hopefully one day I will get to meet him,” said the elderly female. A strange light danced in her eyes, something that made Elain’s arms break out in goosebumps. It didn’t sound like a wish, but… more like a promise.

Elain gracefully got up from her chair, and nodded at Bethane. “Thank you again for the tea. I’ll come by in two weeks to assess the lilies, and we’ll decide what to do with it.” The other female replied affirmatively, and Elain headed toward the door. Bethane’s voice stopped her.

“Let Azriel fly you, dear. The sun is about to set, I don’t want you walking alone in the dark.”

Elain scrambled for something to say. “But–But he’s just arrived, don’t you want to spend time with your son?”

Bethane waved a hand in dismissal. “Don’t worry about that. He’ll come by tomorrow, isn’t that right, Az?” Her question was more of a statement, one Azriel couldn’t escape from.

He seemed to realize that, too, as he nodded slowly, glaring at his mother, who glared right back. Elain observed the silent exchange between mother and son, and yearned for that connection. Her mother had never liked her, that she knew, but she still wished for that kind of relationship. She turned her head to the side, to hide from the pain the sight gave her.

Until someone brushed her finger. She looked up, startled, and found Azriel staring at her, gently yet grimly. She wondered if he knew he was the male who had broken her heart and then stomped on it, or if he’d even forgotten the whole exchange.

He’d started coming to the family dinners again, always sitting as far away from her as possible. She knew it was intentional at first— she avoided him like the plague, too— yet now she wondered if throughout the months it had become an instinct. Her heart squeezed painfully again.

“Can I?” He asked softly, gesturing toward the sky.

Elain nodded, not trusting her voice. He attempted a smile, and took her in his arms. Within seconds, they were up in the air.

The view was spectacular, the hues of the sky so beautiful they seemed like they were painted. She could hear children laugh in the distance, the music sounding from pubs that opened early. Yet as Elain’s arms circled Azriel’s neck, all her mind could focus on was that she was in his arms again, for the first time in what felt like years. She could hear his heart beating, fast, which she attributed to the flight. She didn’t have wings, couldn’t shapeshift like her younger sister Feyre, but she reckoned it must take some strength and concentration. She wondered if he could hear her own heart beating fast, wondered if he knew why it was beating as though it was poised to explode.

They landed at the town house, where Elain currently lived. She spent most of her time at the river house with Feyre and Rhysand, to help them with baby Nyx when they were too exhausted, or help with the food, but Rhysand had generously given her the town house when she’d told them she was looking for her own place. She had moved in six weeks after Nyx was born, and it was slowly becoming her home.

Azriel placed her delicately on the foyer, and took a step back. He cleared his throat, making Elain look up at him. “Thank you.”

Elain’s face must have shown her confusion because he hurried to clarify, “For my mother. For helping her.”

“Oh, there’s no need to thank me,” Elain waved a hand in the air. “You know I like gardening.”

“I’m not– you’ve been doing a lot more than that. In the past few months, I’ve seen my mother happier than ever. Now I know it’s thanks to you.” A strange light shone in his beautiful hazel eyes.

“I’m— I didn’t do anything special. It’s— just tea,” she said, softly.

Azriel shook his head. “No, it’s not. Thank you,” he repeated.

Elain smiled slightly. Silence fell between them, and just when Elain thought he was leaving, he spoke again. “I’m sorry.” It was nothing more than a whisper. She wouldn’t have heard him if it wasn’t for her Fae hearing.

“What for?”

He took a step closer, so close she could feel his body heat. Her breath caught in her throat. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “For what happened on Solstice.”

A buzzing sound ringed in her ears. She froze, and he took the opportunity to slide even closer. His scarred hand landed on her waist. Azriel’s eyes locked on her own.

“I never should have lied to you.” Elain could feel her heart breaking again at his words. Why was he doing this to her?

“It’s fine,” she said, attempting to break free of his hold. His hand tightened on her waist, not enough to hurt her, but tight enough that she wouldn’t be able to leave.

“It’s not fine. I made you believe I had no feelings for you, told you kissing you was a mistake. But it’s not. It could never be,” Azriel said, pronouncing the words clearly, not allowing her to misunderstand what he was saying.

Elain was sure her heart had stopped beating. She couldn’t breathe properly, her hands shaking so bad she had to clench them in a fist.

“I should have never said those things to you, I should have never listened to— Elain, please,” he begged, as his hand went up to her cheek, never lifting his touch. “Believe me when I say how ashamed I am. How sorry I am. It was all lies.”

Elain shook her head, and made to take a step back. This time, he let her go. “I– I’m– I don’t know what to say,” she murmured. She looked him in the eyes again, and although she could read honesty in them, she was still unsure.

Taking a deep breath, Elain said, “I don’t know what to believe. Five months ago you broke my heart, and now you’re saying it was a lie? Why? Why would you do that to me? Why would you tell me now?”

Elain Archeron was known for being quiet, kind, mellow, a people pleaser. Yet in that moment, all she could feel was hot fury sizzling in her veins. How dare he? Azriel’s eyes widened.

“Was it a joke to you? Was I a joke to you? What even is the truth?” She was almost yelling, yet unshed tears blurred her sight. She refused to let them out, refused to let him see how badly he still hurt her.

Yet Azriel didn’t back down like she thought he would, didn’t retreat. No, he moved toward her again, slowly backing her against the wall. Until she could do nothing but look him in the eye, the ire in hers complementing the determination in his.

“The truth is I’m irrevocably in love with you. For almost my entire life I thought I knew what that word meant, but it turns out I had no idea. At night I find myself having to restrain myself from coming here, from kissing you like I should have five months ago. At the family dinners, I have to sit as far from you as possible because I don’t trust that I won’t take you in my arms and fly us to a faraway place, where no one can find us.

“The truth is, I find myself yearning to spend my days with you. I want to listen to you talk about your garden, your visions, I want to know all about you. I want to help Nuala and Cerridwen train you. But most importantly, I want to give all of myself, all that I am to you.

“When my mother said I broke your heart… I know I did, and at the time I thought staying away from you was the better choice for you, but hearing it— it almost felt like someone stabbed me.” Azriel’s voice broke, and his eyes were veiled with tears. “Elain, please believe me when I say you showed me what being in love truly feels like. Even if you can’t find it in yourself to forgive me, I want to thank you for this gift.”

Elain was crying, freely, unashamedly. Growing up, she’d been courted by many men, many times. They would read poetry to her, bring her flowers, some would even sing. No one had poured their heart out like Azriel just had.

Azriel raised his hand and carefully wiped the tears from her eyes, her cheeks. She closed her eyelids. The feeling of his touch sent shivers down her spine, a gasp escaping her mouth. Azriel’s glance immediately fell to her lips, his eyes darkening. She shivered again.

Elain leaned forward. “I don’t want to talk now. But you owe me a kiss.” And with that, she sealed her lips over his.

Azriel let out a deep moan. It was the push she needed to open her mouth, her tongue meeting his. He groaned, one of his hands slid to the back of her head, the other fell to the small of her back. She pressed her front against his, and the friction between his broad, muscled chest and her breasts made her moan. He took that as an invitation, his hand sliding down to her leg. He lifted her up, carried her to the bedroom, laid her down on the bed.

Elain looked up at Azriel, the heat in his eyes matching her own. She took him in, her gaze following his big arms, his toned legs, the thick hardness that was visible through his shorts. She instinctively squeezed her legs shut. His eyes flashed at the sight.

Yet he didn’t come on the bed. “Are you sure?” He asked her, his voice rough, deep.

“Yes, please,” she begged him. “We will talk. Later,” she promised. Azriel seemed to study her, but eventually nodded and followed her on the bed. She smiled against her lips, which quickly turned into another moan.

He brought his mouth down to her breasts, while his hand found her wetness. He groaned, the vibrations sending her another wave of pleasure. She gripped his hair until he raised his head. His dilated pupils made it impossible to see the color of his eyes. He was flushed, pleasure and desire clear on his face. She kissed him again as he pushed a finger inside her. They both moaned at the feeling, and he broke the kiss. Azriel left peppermint kisses on her neck, her chest, her stomach, until he reached that sweet spot between her thighs.

Elain leaned back into the sheets as he kissed her, again and again, until she was writhing in pleasure. Until she screamed his name and collapsed in the bed. He was immediately there, kissing her softly on the mouth. She barely managed to kiss him back, her legs shaking. “I need you inside me,” she whispered against his lips. He sucked in a breath. She smiled.

She got up to her knees and gently pulled him down. Azriel’s eyes flared, understanding what she meant to do. She climbed over him, her hand reaching behind her to grab his hardness. Elain placed it near her entrance and, staring him straight in the eyes, slid down on it.

It was pure ecstasy. She closed her eyes and tipped her head back as she started moving slowly, Azriel’s hands on her waist guiding her. The room was filled by their moans and short breaths, the sound of their bodies joined together, Elain’s whispered pleas for more, more, more.

She collapsed on top of him just as he came, inside her, filling her.

Azriel took her in his arms and laid them down on the bed. He stroked her hair as he kissed every inch of her face, murmuring sweet nothings. She smiled in pure bliss, nuzzling his hands, the feeling of being in his strong arms lulling her to sleep.

Elain awoke a couple of minutes later to a warm, wet cloth cleaning her. She caught Azriel’s eyes and they both smiled at the other.

“Go back to sleep, love. I’ll be back soon,” he said quietly. Elain did as he said.

Hours later, as they cuddled in bed, Azriel began speaking.

He told her of his childhood, of the torture he was subjected to at the hands of his half-brothers.

They both cried at that, Azriel pressing his face against her breasts as Elain cradled him like she did with Nyx. Then it was her turn, she told him of growing up believing she was nothing more than a pretty face to be sold to the highest bidder. She told him how Graysen was the first choice she’d made for herself, and how she’d believed for months after he humiliated her, that maybe her mother and Nesta were right, that she couldn’t make her own choices. Nuala and Cerridwen had made her see the truth.

They talked some more, until finally he told her about his mother.

“Mine wasn’t a lucky guess,” Azriel admitted. “The more you talked about your visions, the more I realized what you were. I recognized the look on your face you’d get when a vision came to you– it was the same one I’d see on my mother’s face. I went to talk to her, told her about you, and she confirmed my guess.”

Elain listened as he recounted his boyhood with Bethane– when he was allowed to see her– and how they’d caught up on the lost moments after he’d escaped his father’s house.

Azriel confessed what had stopped him from kissing her on Solstice. She’d felt anger toward Rhysand, but she couldn’t fault him, not entirely. For Azriel and their future children, should they have them, she would do anything. No, she couldn’t blame him at all.

They talked until the night sky turned into early dawn, when they fell asleep, hugging each other as though they might disappear, as though this was all a dream.

Two weeks later, Elain was again at Bethane’s manor. Rosehall, she found out it was called.

She’d spent two hours in the garden trying to find out why the lilies were dying, and then trying to fix it when she detected the issue. Bethane, Azriel’s mother, had not been home when she’d arrived, but left instructions to proceed with the work.

She’d come home an hour later, leaving Elain to her work. Elain was anxious to talk to her friend, but she was not about to do a sloppy job.

Now they were seated in the tearoom that oversaw the blooming garden, in the same positions as last time. This time, Bethane wore a different look on her face. Her features were sharper, controlled.

Elain opened her mouth, wanting to ask her how her weeks had gone, if she’d gotten more visitors, yet what came out was, “You knew.” It wasn’t an accusation, it was a fact. A truth she only realized now, sitting in front of the older female.

Bethane took a sip of her tea, even though Elain knew it was too hot. Azriel’s mother leaned back in her chair. “You have to be more specific, dear. What do you think I knew?”

Elain narrowed her brown eyes. “You knew who I was. You knew who my sister is, you knew I knew your son, and you knew he was the guy who rejected me. What I don’t know is when you figured it out. Was it when I told you I’m a seer, and you remembered Azriel coming to you about a once-human-now-Fae female, with a power similar to yours?” She challenged.

Bethane’s features remained the same, not at all concerned by the words. “It wasn’t hard to guess. There’s not many once-human-now-Fae females around. Actually, I think there’s only three. And I’d heard from other villagers that one of those three, who happened to be the sister of our High Lady, was a gardener. Imagine my surprise when you appeared on my front porch.”

Elain ignored that other piece of truth. “But why? Why did you not tell me you knew who I was? Was it… Was it a joke?” There was pain in her voice, just as a wounded look glinted in her deer-like eyes.

“No, dear. It wasn’t like that. When you showed up at my door, you had this expectant look on your face… It was clear to me you feared I’d treat you differently, that I wouldn’t allow you to do any work. You needed to escape from reality, and that’s what I chose to be for you.” She leaned forward and grabbed Elain’s hands, drawing invisible circles with her fingers. “I had a vision, months before your first visit. I saw my son, Azriel, smiling in pure contentment. He was standing near a bed, his arm encircling someone’s petite shoulders. You were half-sitting on the bed, a tired yet elated look on your face. You were holding a small, bundled cloth— a baby. Yours and Azriel’s baby. I didn’t know you back then, but from that frame alone I could see, I could feel how happy you made him. I only helped you come closer.” Bethane explained, her eyes shining with unshed tears.

Elain sat frozen, her hand to her mouth. She knew her own eyes mirrored the older female’s, her sight blurry. Her mind kept replaying the words pronounced by Bethane. She didn’t know when the vision would take place, or if it would even prove true– there had been cases, Bethane had explained to her one afternoon, where the visions had proven a missed possibility, a what-if scenario only known to seers— yet something told her it would. In a few years, yes… but it would.

“You can’t blame an old female for wanting to ensure she gets grandchildren, can you?” Elain laughed at Bethane’s attempt to make the room lighter, a few tears escaping. Happy tears. “No, I really can’t.” She shook her head. “Well, then I guess you will be happy to hear that Azriel and I have been spending more time together.”

The older female’s features now split open in a huge smile. “Did he apologize?” Elain blushed. “He did, he sure did.” Flashes of the creative ways he’d come up with to apologize to her danced in her mind, but she quickly waved them away. It was not the time.

“Thank you, Bethane. For everything you did, for me, your son, us. Being your friend has been an honor, my saving grace in these dark months.”

Bethane blinked rapidly. “Thank you, for everything,” she said, her voice thick with emotion.

They drank their tea in silence, enjoying the warm weather. At some point, Azriel joined them. He took a quick look at their tear-stricken faces and watery eyes and went still. “Is everything alright?” He asked them, worried.

The two females looked at each other and smiled. “Yes, it couldn’t be better.”

#elriel #elriel fic #elriel fanfic #elain archeron #azriel #feyre archeron #rhysand #nyx #azriel's mom #rosehall #acotar #i forgot about lucien #sorry

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roselensedeyes · 9 months

Text

my house of stone, your ivy grows

Hello everyone!

I thought I'd share with you some of my writings, but also as an archive in case ao3 stops working like a couple of weeks ago! You can read it on ao3 here.

This is the first elriel fanfiction I've ever written, criticism is welcomed but please be kind! You can read it under the cut. Enjoy!

Elain Archeron was listening passively to the discussion between her brother-in-law, and the Nigh Court High Lord, Rhysand, and their unexpected visitor.

Well, not entirely unexpected, she had seen her coming a few weeks prior. Perhaps strange was a better word to describe her. The girl, whose name was Bryce Quinlan, had landed a couple of weeks ago on her younger sister’s, Feyre, front lawn, fallen through a portal meant to take her to Hel. Instead, it’d brought her to Prythian.

Elain had seen it a few hours before, while she was baking bread in the Town House she had recently moved into. After the birth of her nephew, Nyx, she’d decided she needed to let them have their own personal space, allow them to grow their bond with their son.

Said nephew was now sitting on her knees, bouncing while looking around with wide, curious eyes. His small fist was in his mouth, and Elain gently took it away. His first teeth would come in soon, Madja had said, which meant he might feel the urge to chew on everything he’d come across. Elain tried to focus back on the conversation taking place before her. In the past days, the Inner Circle and Bryce had tried to put together the pieces of knowledge they possessed, to understand their worlds’ histories and lore. Of what the Asteri—the Daglan, as they were known in Prythian—had been doing throughout the millennia. Of the worlds they had conquered and destroyed, of those people they had used until they had exhausted their purpose. Of what they were planning on doing to Elain’s world again, this time leaving no chances of losing. Of what they were already doing to Bryce’s world, Midgard, and the torture they were putting her mate and brother and loved ones through. Elain suppressed the shudder that threatened to overtake her as she thought of the agony in Bryce’s voice when she explained what the Asteri were most likely doing to her brother and mate in their dungeon, of those flashes she had seen in her vision.

She had never mastered her seer powers, not yet at least.

At first, they reminded her of what was done to her, of those months of suffering and heartache following that fateful day when she was turned into Fae. And that day when her fiancé, the man she thought was her soulmate and who she was going to spend the rest of her life with. But the life she knew had ended the night she and her older sister Nesta were kidnapped, no matter how hard she fought against it. In those months in which she would not, could not leave her room, she pretended all was well, as it was supposed to be. But one look in the mirror, a those pointed ears that replaced her rounded ones, shattered those pretenses. And then the visions came, and that was when she knew nothing would ever be the same again, that she would never go back to being the same person she’d been for her entire life.

So with the help of her family and her two friends, Nuala and Cerridwen, she had tried to find some normalcy in her new life. She’d learned how to grow vegetables and fruit, now that the soil allowed the seeds to grow, she had the shadow twins teach her how to bake and cook, and she’d even found a job to pay back her sister and her husband for all that they had done for her over the years. Helping the elderly by tending their gardens filled her with such sense of fulfillment that she had never thought possible.

Yet, Elain had never tapped into her powers again. At times, images would pop into her mind, but she’d always ignored them, pushing them to the back of her mind. Those visions would bring forward too many things she’d rather not face. Elain knew it also pained her sister Nesta, not being able to help her. That those flashes she’d see would also be a reminder to her of her failure in not protecting her, even though Elain also knew there was nothing Nesta could have done to prevent the attack. To avoid what had happened to them both. They had been betrayed, by Feyre’s captor and his friend, Lucien. Who happened to be Elain’s mate too. Another thing she would rather not face yet.

So Elain had avoided her powers, of the truth they would whisper to her.

Yet when she was baking bread for her family weeks ago and the vision hit her, there was nothing she could have done to block out the images, the sounds of despair and agony that filled her ears. She had heard a woman—a female— with red hair sob as she hugged a male who murmured words of comfort to her, telling her he was going to find her, as another male, who looked eerily similar to Rhysand slipped something in her pockets. And then she saw that same female jump through a portal and land on a front lawn Elain knew well. Her breath had been knocked out of her lungs and she knew that what she had seen was too important to ignore.

Now, Bryce and Rhysand were discussing how to contact the former’s friends in Midgard. Bryce insisted that the information they came about was of great value, that her friends needed to be aware of it to be better prepared while she was stuck in this world. That she needed to tell them, to help them however she could.

Rhysand, on his part, argued that it was too risky to establish contact with the world where the parasites that were trying to conquer and enslave them again resided. That they needed more time to collect insights on how to defeat them before risking opening the gates between their worlds. Elain could understand both points of view.

“I’m telling you, I know a way to communicate with them that does not require opening the gates,” Bryce said in frustration.

The sole fact that Elain could now understand her was a feat on its own. Rhysand and Amren, his second-in-command, had conjured a sort of translation machine, allowing them to talk freely. Bryce used some terms they all didn’t understand, like gun or motorcycle, but they could still communicate and understand the other with little to no issue.

“If only I had brought the bloodsalt with me,” Bryce muttered under her breath. Rhysand stilled and exchanged a look with Amren.

“Bloodsalt?” He asked quietly, too quietly.

The female’s head whipped up. “You know what it is?” Her voice sounded so hopeful.

Elain’s heart squeezed a bit. For her sake, she sent a prayer to the Mother that it meant something positive.

“I’m not sure. The word does remind me of...” Rhys stopped talking, as if he was unsure on what to reveal to that strange, modern female standing before him. Although she had proved to not be deceiving them, it was still hard for them to trust her entirely. Especially for Rhysand, who had a mate, a son, and a Court to think about. “I don’t think it was ever used how you mean it.”

Bryce seemed to deflate a bit at that, but still took a deep breath before explaining how it was used on her planet.

“In Midgard there are… individuals who have been granted a great, yet terrible power. They’re called mystics, and they always work in a set of three. One female, one male, and one who is both. They can see the present—and other worlds.” She swallowed, as if talking about these creatures brought her great pain. “They’re usually born to poor families, and their parents sell them to another person, the Astronomer, he calls himself, and their lives are forfeited for the use of their abilities.” She shook her head, and Elain could feel the shift in the room, the horror everyone must be feeling. “They can travel to other worlds, understand and speak other languages. Thanks to a mind-reading machine, what they witness, what they say with other… people is transcribed and then analyzed by the Astronomer. Bloodsalt helps pinpoint their search.”

Silence had descended on the room. Elain’s blood had turned into ice in her veins. She shifted her focus on the babbling baby sitting on her knees, swiping a hand through his soft hair and pressing a kiss to his temple. She refused to look at anyone else.

“I believe in our world it’s called bloodbane. But nothing of the sorts has ever been attempted, not like how you described it. How does bloodsalt exactly help them?” Rhysand inquired.

Bryce shook her head once more. “I don’t know the logistics of it, not in detail, but what I do know is that the mystics live in a bathtub, filled with water and white salt. I once saw the Astronomer add the bloodsalt and they reached the intended location within seconds.”

Elain had to suppress another shudder.

She felt Rhysand’s gaze on her, and she knew before he even opened his mouth what he was going to say. “Are you sure this won’t open a gate into your world?”

Bryce nodded. “I’m positive. The mystics have been traveling through worlds without opening any gates for centuries.”

“And you’re sure this won’t help the Asteri gain entrance in Prythian.” Rhysand asked as a matter of fact, as though he already know the answer.

“I don’t see why it would.” Bryce replied honestly.

Elain took a deep breath. Rhysand’s next words sounded loud and clear, “Then I think we should attempt it.”

Elain’s gaze landed on her brother-in-law, though she did a quick sweep of the room. She set her shoulders and began to nod when two voices interrupted her. “Absolutely not!” one barked, while the other growled a simple “No.”

She knew who those voices belonged to. Her older sister Nesta, and Azriel, Rhysand’s brother and the male who had rejected her months ago. She ignored both of them, instead kept her eyes on her brother-in-law, who had always encouraged her in her acceptance of her new life and body. She knew he’d come to love her as a sister, which she supposed she was for him. Growing up, Elain had never felt as though she had someone in her corner, silently cheering for her. Yes, Feyre had provided food and shelter for her, and Nesta would fight to the death for her safety, and for that she would always be grateful to her sisters. Yet she had never felt she could be her true self, only the version that would be most convenient to her family. To not be in their way, while they were starving and cold and mocked by people they thought friends. So she’d learned to be what they wanted, needed her to be, and stuck with it until everything she had come to know had changed so radically that she was forced to become another version. This time, she’d chosen something was similar to her true self. She wondered if the day ever came where she was allowed to be completely who she wanted to be, disregarding others’ expectations of her.

“I will do it.” She had never sounded so clear. She was certain of the decision she’d made.

Shadows flickered to the corner on her left, where that deep voice came from. Where Azriel stood. She looked his way, and when she found his stare already on herself, she glanced away. She didn’t have the time for this, not now.

As if he could sense his aunt had agreed to something reckless, Nyx turned around in her laps and grabbed her cheeks, before bursting into tears. Elain hugged him to her, murmuring words of comfort and laying her cheek on his head. She rubbed his tiny back, mindful of his even tinier wings, but his cries turned into sobs. She looked towards Feyre, who got up from the other end of the sofa and took him, soothing her son. Feyre was a great mother, watching her with Nyx always sent a pang through her chest. It reminded her too much of her father, who had always doted on her.

“Are you sure?” Feyre asked her.

Elain looked her in the eyes and nodded, willing the anxiety away. Feyre seemed to asses her, and when she deemed her to be truthful she nodded and turned toward Nesta.

“It’s her choice,” was all she said.

Nesta snarled. “I will not stand by while she’s throwing herself into harm’s way”.

“We cannot forbid her from doing the things she wants to do. She’s her own person. She can make her own choices.” Feyre replied calmly.

“I’m here, you know.” Elain said quietly. Apparently not as quiet as she thought, as several heads turned her way. Elain hunched her shoulders.

“Is anyone going to explain to me what the Hel is going on?” Bryce asked.

“I’m a seer. I can see future events— but I can also see the present.”

Bryce looked stunned, rightly so. They’d agreed not to tell her that she had seen her coming, not until they knew for certain that she was not a threat.

“We’ll work on finding a transcriber, or conjuring one, and then we’ll get you started on it.” Amren nodded to her. Then, she turned to Azriel. “Boy, you will need to retrieve the bloodbane. You know where to find it.”

Azriel’s face was dark, almost hidden in the shadows that swarmed him. It was clear as day he was not happy with this decision. Elain couldn’t phantom why. He had no right to act as though her safety mattered so dearly to him, when he had no qualms with breaking her heart months ago.

So she turned her gaze away from him and got up. She inclined her head toward the High Lord of the Night Court and his second-in-command. “You know where to find me when the time is right.” With that, she breezed past them, plopping a kiss on Nyx’ soft hair, ignoring Nesta’s sounds of protest and the lone shadow following her.

It took them a week to figure out how to create a transcriber without all the technology available in Midgard. Elain could still remember everyone’s reaction to the device Bryce had brought with herself, which she called smartphone. The males had drawn out their weapons, but the redhead had only rolled her eyes and showed them what it could do. It stored pictures, but it could also make calls and write to the digits stored in the phone, which belonged to friends and family members and anyone who you shared your own number with.

Her mind couldn’t wrap around it. Elain had always thought Velaris was the most magical, advanced place she’d ever been in, yet the single proof Bryce had brought with her made her wonder if such progress could be had in her world too.

Elain was sitting in the garden of the Town House, basking in the sun after a long day of tending to the flowers and vegetables. She felt something poke her shoulder, and she cracked an eye open to see a shadow in the process of curling itself around her arm. She smiled slightly, before raising her head and searching for its owner, for if the shadow was here, it meant Azriel had to be near.

Sure enough, he was leaning against the backdoor, silently watching her. She felt her cheeks grow warm and hated herself for it, for showing him that her feelings had not changed since that fateful Solstice night. She had no doubts he could hear her heartbeat picking up, or smell her nervousness.

He moved to her, his steps silent.

She swallowed, hard, but remained seated. Until he was standing directly in front of her and she had to crane her neck to look him in the face.

She made to stand, but he gripped her hand with the preternaturally speed of Faes and helped her up. Elain knew her blush had deepened. The last time they had touched they had almost kissed.

She forced the painful reminder away, and looked him in the eyes.

“Rhys has sent me to summon you. They’re ready,” Azriel’s voice was tight, telling her he had still not come around to this plan.

Her heart started beating faster for another reason this time, anxiety pouring over her like ice. She had volunteered for this, but she wasn’t foolish enough to pretend she wasn’t about to do the most dangerous thing she’d ever done in her life.

“I see,” she said, lamely. She shook her head and took a deep breath, and nodded. “Alright, I’m ready. Take me to him.”

Azriel scanned her face, searching for anything that told him she was rethinking the whole thing. But he wasn’t going to. Despite her unease, she was going through with it. The disappointed look on his face told her he’d read that on her face, too.

She had avoided her powers for so long, but she no longer could. It was now a matter of life or death, quite literally. Bryce’s friends needed to know what threat they were facing, but they needed to be told so they could help Elain’s family and world too. So many things had changed in her life so quickly, she was not ready for yet another change. She would not allow it. With that newfound conviction, she draped her arms around Azriel’s neck. He stilled, his shadows peeking from his shoulders. She smiled at them, right as Azriel scooped her up and began their flight to the House of Wind, where the Inner Circle and Bryce were waiting for them.

They arrived shortly after, and Elain’s breath caught as her eyes took in the large bathtub standing in front of her.

She had not taken that into account. How she would feel to submerge herself under the water, so similar to how she had been forced under it to turn her into Fae. Her baths since that day had been fast, and she had never gone underwater with her head.

Azriel stiffened at her side, his hand inching toward hers. As if he might offer her that kind of comfort. She almost caved in, but Amren’s curt voice made her forget about all that. “Come here, girl. Bryce will explain to you what will happen.”

Elain nodded, but her gaze remained fixed on that bathtub.

She took a step forward.

She almost turned around and fled.

No, she refused to let that fear win.

Her mind threatened to replay her those moments in which she was forever changed, but she forced them away.

She took a deep breath, and another, and another.

She could feel everyone’s eyes on her, but she ignored them and forced a foot in front of the other, then did the same again.

And again, and again, and again.

Until she had covered the distance to the bathtub.

Her head was roaring with panic, her hands shaking and clammy.

“I don’t know how well this will work. As I said, there’s usually a set of three. You’re only one,” Bryce cautioned. “You will need to wear this mask,” Bryce said, handing her a carefully crafted mask. “And go all the way under the water. I will add the bloodsalt— or bloodbane, however you want to call it. It should take you to my world.” Bryce said, her voice breaking.

“If we see you’re struggling or not being able to reach them, we’ll get you out,” Azriel said, his voice too soft. From the look on Rhys’ face, Elain knew it wasn’t part of the plan. Still, her traitorous heart squeezed at his words. She put on the mask, it not being too constrictive.

Elain looked at her family, their anxious but supportive gazes telling her she was making the right decision, and finally glanced at Azriel. He had a dark look on his face, his jaw clenched tight, but when their eyes made contact it softened. The corners of his mouth tipped up, his smile tight, yet the pressure on her chest lessened, as though a weight had been lifted from it.

She went into the bathtub still looking at him.

At first, she couldn’t see anything.

She could hear the sound of the water, yet everything was as black as the bottom of the bathtub. She tried to relax her muscles, to trick her mind into thinking nothing was amiss. If Nesta had battled her fears, then so could she.

Slowly, Elain started seeing things better.

She was floating in a starry sky. So many stars and so many… worlds. She was seeing worlds!

Excitement threatened to burst over, but she did her best to contain it.

A strange sensation spilled over her skin, and she realized they must have put the bloodbane in the water.

Suddenly, she was being propelled forward, spinning so fast she became dizzy. She struggled against this invisible force, but just as it had begun, it stopped. She took a few moments to make sure the contents of her stomach wouldn’t spill over, and then opened her eyes that she did not remember closing.

Dark eyes were staring right into hers.

Elain suppressed a scream, her heart beating loudly.

She saw that those eyes belonged on gaunt, pale skin, framed by chestnut-brown hair. A female.

“Who-Who are you?” Elain asked, stumbling over her words.

“I’m a mystic,” the female simply said. Elain could have cried from joy. She could understand her, and the mystic could understand her.

Elain tried again. “What’s your name?”

The female blinked. “Who asks?”

Elain tried to assess the risks of revealing her name. But before she could come to a decision, the mystic spoke again. “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Her voice didn’t sound mocking, only curious. Still, Elain blushed deeply. “I haven’t, no. I didn’t know I could do this. I’m only a seer, where I come from.”

When the mystic didn’t say anything, Elain said, “I need to send a warning to someone. To a certain Ithan Holstrom.” That was the name Bryce had given her.

The female seemed to freeze. Elain gasped. “You know him.”

The mystic assessed her, and then gave a tiny nod Elain might have missed if she hadn’t been looking for it.

“Tell him his friend, Bryce, has landed in the world I come from— we call it Prythian, but in your world it might have a different name.” She relayed all the necessary information in a succinct way, the female paling even more with each word she pronounced.

“Tell Bryce that he’s listening right now, that we’ll try whatever we can to help her from here.”

“Elain nodded. “I will.” She promised.

“Well, I better—” The mystic’s voice suddenly cut off, and her eyes started rolling in the back of her head, her body thrashing. Elain screamed then. Then a cruel, cold face came between them, a sinister smile painting it.

Elain’s breath was stolen from her lungs.

She needed to go back, back back.

She made to float away, but a freezing hand grabbed her wrist. It was squeezing her to the point of pain, and she tried to shake it off but his grip would not budge. Her thrashing became frantic, desperate to get away from this—this—

“Tell Bryce Quinlan that we’re coming for her. And that there’s nothing she can do to stop us,” said the deceivingly soft voice.

It was an Asteri. A Daglan.

Agitation overtook her and tried to break free from the grip of this parasite, but instead it squeezed harder, making it impossible for her to break free from it.

She started sobbing, and she tried to scream, but she couldn’t.

No matter how hard she tried, her lungs would not suck in any air.

She needed to get out, out, out of here—

She couldn’t breathe anymore, and black spots appeared in her line of vision.

She was crying as she started losing consciousness.

Elain opened her eyes again as she was being lifted by strong arms.

Blinding light made them close again.

She could hear raised voices, though she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

She took in a big gasp of air, savoring every moment of it.

Her wet clothes clung to her, her hair matted against the sides of her face. Someone was passing a hand through it, freeing her face. The feel of the air against her skin was the most beautiful feeling she’d ever had.

Soft lips pressed to her temple, leaving kisses and soothing words against it.

She took another steadying breath and opened her eyes again.

This time, the light wasn’t nearly as painful, and she managed to keep them open.

The first thing she saw was Cassian, her sister Nesta’s mate. She had on a worried face, and let out a small sigh of relief at seeing her sister breathe and alert. Her reaction seemed to lessen her other sister’s, Feyre, panic too, whose shoulders slumped as she leaned against her mate, Rhysand.

She couldn’t see Amren or Bryce, but she knew for certain the male holding her was Azriel.

“I’m fine,” she let out, her voice breathy, yet Azriel didn’t let her go.

No, he held her tighter to him.

He murmured something again, and this time she could make out “you’re alright you’re alright you’re alright” as though the words were a prayer.

She laid a hand on his big arm, and he laid his head on hers.

Her heart gave a squeeze.

Elain realized then that he needed to know she was okay. That nothing had befallen her.

So she caressed his arm, and nuzzled his cheek.

He gave a sigh of contentment.

She smiled.

“I’m fine, Azriel.” She said again, and this time he seemed to hear her. Still, he didn’t move.

She tried to shift, to catch his eyes, but he wouldn’t let her move, his hands gripping her waist as though she might disappear if he let go of her.

So she repeated, again and again, those three words, until at last he seemed to come back to the present and she was able to turn in his arms.

Elain pressed a kiss to his left cheek, then another on the other, and then met his eyes. And held onto them to convey that she was thoroughly alright.

He nodded, and shifted his gaze on Rhysand.

But it wasn’t the latter who spoke.

“Holy shit, you’re mates,” was all Bryce said.

Elain’s eyes widened as they landed on the redhead, but something in her chest shifted, a sense of rightness settling over her for the first time, and she could swear she heard a voice sing in her ear, finally, things are right.

Nothing had ever made more sense to her than those words.

With a smile, Elain leaned back against the chest of her mate.

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