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wingedblooms · 7 days

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Thank you so much for tagging me @tealeaves-and-rosepetals! I’m so honored that theory inspired you and I cannot wait to read this. 💕

CHAPTER FIVE — WORLD-WALKER

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Summary: The visitor from another world is questioned at the town house and she brings alarming news to Prythian. A plan to save two worlds requires the use of Elain’s powers, but there is disagreement among the Inner Circle about how to proceed.

CW: blood, thoughts of violence

Notes: I appreciate your patience with this chapter!! My house had two waves of sickness pass through it over the past few weeks and I rewrote the first portion of this chapter because the first time I wrote it, I did it as an infodump/summary so I could get back to Elriel quicker. 😅 But then I realized I wasn’t happy with it, so over the past two days I went back and turned it into something I could feel good about sharing!! ❤️

The next chapter is nearly ready to go and will be coming out in the next few days! This chapter and the next were originally one chapter but after my recent revision, it ended up coming in at over 8.2k words so I split it! So don’t worry, the situation I previously referred to is coming right up after this!! 😊❤️

This chapter (as well as following chapters) will include the Elain’s Murky Realm (Mystic Elain) theory from @wingedblooms . If you haven’t read her theories yet, please do! She’s a brilliant fandom theorist! ❤️

Azriel

Azriel had been prepared for a wide range of possible scenarios, both peaceful and violent, when he first saw the red-haired female crashing down onto Rhys’s back lawn. But what happened soon after—the hum of his dagger glowing with dark light in response to the female’s sword… this had not been one of them.

At Rhys’s order, Azriel had taken the female to Elain’s empty town house. He was to begin her interrogation there and move her to the Hewn City if she became uncooperative.

The female now sat in a chair in the middle of Elain’s sitting room, surrounded by the others who had since arrived. Her manner of dress was unusual and she’d been doused with blood that was not her own. Amren assessed her with keen eyes while Cassian and Nesta stood nearby with their weapons at the ready. Rhys had confiscated her sword, and Azriel stood beside the world-traveler with Truth Teller held against her throat.

Rage was smoldering quietly inside him as he waited impatiently for answers about her involvement with Elain. He needed to know whether the female posed a threat to her safety.

Azriel couldn’t deny there was a part of him that would be satisfied to make the stranger pay for the look of fear on Elain’s face when he last saw her, for the weeks of torment and frustration she’d endured while trying to decode the female’s messages, for the hopelessness and despair that shaded her eyes after so many sleepless nights. Elain had suffered due to the maneuverings of this red-haired half-Fae before him.

If she so much as displayed a hint of ill-intent toward the female he loved, Azriel would cut this invader to pieces in a matter of seconds and plead forgiveness to Elain later on for ruining her rug and armchair. The female was already leaving blood on the velvet chair as it was, but he was certain Rhys could remove the light stains easily enough. He hoped Elain wouldn’t hold it against him when she found out. Az would replace the entire thing if it was what she wanted.

So far, the stranger seemed panicked and eager to cooperate. She had given them her name willingly—Bryce Quinlan. Beyond that, they knew the female had appeared holding the ancient blade, Gwydion, which had been missing from their world for millennia, and she was searching for someone known as Prince Aidas after failing to make it to a planet called Hel.

Azriel felt Rhys’s invisible claws at the barrier that surrounded his mind, scraping against those thick stone walls encased in ice. He allowed him entrance.

In a voice as dark and smooth as midnight skies, Rhysand spoke to the female in the Old Language.

You’d better have a very good explanation for both your arrival on our planet and the blood on your clothes, Bryce Quinlan. The translation of Rhys’s words appeared in Azriel’s mind. It wasn’t hard to guess he was doing the same for the others as well, with the exception of Amren who also spoke the same ancient language.

With desperation painted across her face, Bryce Quinlan gave her answer. Though Azriel couldn’t understand a word the female spoke, his shadows read and reported on her emotions while Azriel monitored the interplay of her heartbeat along with the tone of her voice and the subtle shifts of her face and body.

She came here unintentionally when trying to reach Hel, a world inhabited by demons, Rhys explained. She’s looking for a male named Prince Aidas. She believes this prince will supply her with armies of demons who will fight at her side to save her world from beings called Asteri. Before she escaped to find help for her world, she was covered in the blood of an enemy. She did not make the kill, though she would’ve been happy to.

All truth.

Amren crossed her arms over her chest and spoke to the female. Her words were followed by Rhys’s voice in Az’s mind a moment later. Where did you get that blade? And how did you learn to speak this language?

Prepared to act at any moment if given the order, Azriel held still and awaited Rhys’s translation.

Her brother retrieved it from a cavern and it answers to her. She is destined to wield it. She is royalty—a princess—in her world, Midgard, and was taught the ancient language because it is a part of her people’s history. Her ancestors made the crossing into Midgard from their home planet thousands of years ago and brought the sword with them. She is descended from Theia, High King Fionn’s queen. She possesses Theia’s starlight.

Pieces of her story and their world’s history were twisting and connecting as they all fell into place. This female was descended from the Fae who had disappeared from Prythian about fifteen centuries ago. They had survived for just as long on this foreign planet, Midgard, and now some race of malevolent beings called Asteri threatened their existence. Out of this upheaval, at least the meaning of Elain’s prophecy was now entirely clear.

When sword and dagger—those mighty twins of ancient power—sing to each other once more, pluck the eighth string to herald the new dawn of dusk.

The sword was the long-lost Gwydion, returned to Prythian by this world-traveler, and the dagger was his own blade.

“Translate for me,” Azriel demanded when he couldn’t stand to remain silent for a moment longer. Rhys nodded and Az looked down at the intruder with narrowed eyes that offered no mercy. “What do you want with her?”

The female uttered one short word and Rhys provided the translation—Who?

Darkly, Azriel responded, “For weeks you’ve been contacting a female from our world. I’m giving you one chance to explain why.”

He observed her closely as she listened to Rhys’s translation and gave her reply. He noted no physical tells of deceit in her posture or face, no damning changes in her heart rate.

Desperation, confusion, fear… his shadows whispered. No malice. No deception.

Whatever she spoke, it was the truth.

She swears she was not contacting anyone from our world deliberately, Rhys said. She was told the scar on her chest is a beacon to the homeworld of her Fae ancestors. Perhaps this beacon has been reaching Elain unintentionally.

Azriel nodded, and spoke into Rhys’s mind, Don’t speak her name in the presence of this female. His unrest had not abetted entirely, but he felt he could ease up with the rigid grip he kept on the dagger against the female’s throat.

The female began speaking frantically and Azriel didn’t need to speak the Old Language to know that she was begging them for something.

Rhys gave his response. Give me one reason why we should help you.

As the female spoke, Rhys’s eyes widened and Amren’s face went slack.

The Asteri wish to return to this planet to usurp power and feed upon our magic once more. They seek revenge.

“The Asteri and Daglan are one and the same,” Amren said aloud.

——

Azriel laid in his bed with a pounding headache. When it became clear that they would need to cooperate with this female in order to protect their world and all they held dear, Rhys had ordered Azriel to stand down and the group relocated to the river house to begin calculating a plan of action.

The circumstances of the foreigner’s arrival had been worse than Azriel imagined. Had she sought to harm Elain or this planet, he could’ve ended her life and they could’ve moved past all this without a second thought, but this… this was not quite so easily dealt with.

With fifteen thousand years between the Daglan’s last appearance in Prythian and the present day, Azriel had always thought of the parasitic race as a legend of the past—enemies vanquished by a great hero long ago—not an active threat, poised to attempt reinvasion at the first opportunity that should arise.

Their entire world was scrambling to spread the news, with Rhys and Feyre working relentlessly to contact allies far and wide, urging them to ready their armed forces and prepare for the possibility of a hostile invasion from an unseen, distant enemy. The Daglan knew that Bryce was the key to opening the gates between worlds, as she possessed the ability to create and close portals. If she returned to Midgard and failed in her mission, the Daglan would be sure to use Bryce’s abilities for their own devious plans, which included a swift return to this planet, the one they coveted more than all others.

The Daglan had to be eradicated, and the obvious next step was to contact a demon known as Aidas, Prince of the Chasm.

Late last night, once Elain and Nyx had been taken back to their homes, Bryce had been moved to a heavily guarded room in the House of Wind, and the Inner Circle had been called to the river house to privately discuss the matter of getting a message to the demon prince from Hel.

They believed Bryce Quinlan when she said this Prince Aidas could supply armies that would be essential in her plan to eliminate the Daglan on her home planet. If she managed it, then her world would be saved and their own world would be spared from conquest. But the question had gone unanswered—what methods could they possibly use to contact a being from another planet?

Rhys had deemed it too dangerous to put the Harp in the hands of a stranger. Azriel had agreed. Trusting an outsider with a magic item of such immense power was too great a risk, especially after the Harp proved to possess something of a will of its own. But most of all, there was nothing to stop the female from stealing it and making use of it in her world once she’d finished the job.

The princess explained that she could create a portal if enough power was directed at the tattoo on her back. The inked design contained the pulverized remnants of the Horn, the fourth item of the Dread Trove, but it was uncertain if magic that existed outside of her world would be suitable to activate it correctly.

Even if it was, she was clearly incompetent with this power, as she had transported herself to this world instead of her desired destination in the first place. To send her through a portal would be to chance that she could end up lost or killed on another planet, unable to raise any army to eliminate the Daglan. And if she failed to close the portal correctly, their world would be left completely vulnerable.

All other political matters were put on hold while the court prioritized this disaster. Azriel had been ordered to do whatever it took to get inside information on the plans of other courts and lands, scoping out whether adversaries had any plans to try and win influence over the newcomer, and whether foreign rulers were scheming to take advantage of the pandemonium so that they might move to seize power while the world was distracted.

He’d been in contact with his spies until the early hours of the morning, but he needed to at least try and get some sleep before he began another day of this.

Azriel sighed and flipped onto his other side, adjusting the pillow beneath his head. He knew it was hopeless to think he would be able to relax enough to sleep tonight. Not with so much weighing on him.

His eyes snagged on his nightstand drawer. It didn’t take long before he caved to temptation and reached for the metal knob, opening the drawer and feeling around the inside until his fingers landed upon the item he was searching for.

——

Despite the heavy burden on his mind, Azriel woke with a rare feeling of contentment, pleasantly drowsy and achingly hard, with Elain’s scent lingering in the air, surrounding him like a cloud of sweet honey and jasmine. His lips formed a lazy smile until he realized that the female he loved did not share his bed.

A quick command to his shadows had them scouting the area until they confirmed she was nowhere within the walls of his apartment, and had never been there at all. It had taken him one short, heart-wrenching moment to realize that what he’d hoped were memories—the evening he’d spent worshiping Elain’s body, making love to her slowly, wrapping her in his embrace and drifting off to sleep as she blessed his bare skin with loving strokes of her fingertips—it had been nothing more than a heavenly dream. And the lovely perfume clinging to the air around him—it was his comb. The same comb that he’d swept through Elain’s long hair just the day before, the precious comb that still held her enchanting scent. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep with it resting on his pillow beside his face—had meant to stash it away in the drawer of his nightstand so he might stand a chance at preserving the fragrance for a little while longer before it faded away. He was vexed by the thought of Elain’s scent disappearing into nothing, just as his perfect dream had.

Gods, it hurt. It was cruel that his dreams could show him everything he’d ever wanted and the morning would steal it all away the instant he opened his tired eyes.

He’d been close, so close to being able to tell her what she meant to him. Each time he’d seen her, Azriel had clung to every smile, every glance, every word that she shared with him. And now, after all of this, his need, his hope had taken on new life until it eclipsed all reason. Azriel could scarcely be forced to remind himself that she was every beautiful thing in this world that he would never deserve. But he wouldn’t stay away this time, not so long as she still wished to see him.

And maybe… perhaps he’d finally realized that the love he had for Elain outshined the loathing he felt for himself.

That’s exactly what it was… After all this time, his need to love her spoke louder than the voice that told him to continue punishing and denying himself. He needed to know what it was to be hers, even if it meant exposing the truth of himself and lying it at her feet, to be embraced or rejected by her. If she gave him the chance, he would offer himself to her and face the outcome, whatever it would be.

The same thoughts still hounded him. Did she want him? Would she keep him if she knew of his darkest thoughts, of the horrific things he’d done? Would he be enough to make her as happy as she deserved to be?

Azriel often wondered—if he opened up to her, as her rosebuds did, would she have the patience to let it happen in its own time? Would she tolerate his reticence in the same way she didn’t rush the roots in the frozen ground to send up flowers before their season?

Truly, none of that would matter if she couldn’t forgive him for the hurt he’d caused. Before anything else, this was the concern that kept him awake at night. And now, after the way his last, unplanned visit had ended, he had to worry whether she would entertain the idea of seeing him at all.

Azriel spent the majority of his morning overseeing the complex operations of his network of spies in the aftermath of the Starborn Princess’s arrival. With as much as he had to manage and coordinate, it wasn’t enough to stop thoughts of Elain from remaining at the forefront of his mind.

He could hardly think of anything past his memory of her scent and the way she’d moaned as he’d dragged the brush over her scalp, through her damp, gold-tinged hair. When he’d sat behind her on the sofa, tending to her as if he were her lover, it had taken every bit of his will to smother his desire, but that sound of pleasure had shattered the firm hold he had on himself, and the heavy scent of his pent up need had flooded the air while he’d been helpless to stop it.

Hardly a moment passed that he wasn’t plagued by shame for caving to such a terrible lapse of self-control. And now he wasn’t sure if it made more sense to write her a letter in apology or to pretend it never happened. He was furious with himself. Azriel had spent over five hundred years mastering restraint and composure, and it had all meant nothing the moment that sweet and sinful sound escaped her mouth.

Nothing and no one had ever held such power over him, not until Elain had swept into his life like a soft springtime breeze, stirring up feelings within him that were unlike anything he’d ever known. She held his heart in her lovely hands and if she cared to keep it, he would let her have it. All of it.

A sensation of restless energy gripped him, spreading like a shiver down his arms and spine. Suddenly, this couldn’t wait for another day. He knew it wasn’t the right time, amidst the preparations and panic that were spreading across the world. He didn’t care. This would be settled today, and there wasn’t a thing that could stop Azriel from doing what he should’ve done months ago.

Fifteen minutes remained before the meeting at the river house was set to begin. This wouldn’t take much time. With that buzzing energy urging him forward, Azriel sent himself to the river house. In seconds, his shadows had located Rhys, reporting that he was already in his study, along with Feyre, Bryce Quinlan, and Amren. Azriel reappeared just before the door and entered.

“Rhys,” he said. “I need to have a word with you. Privately.”

Rhys nodded, with a look of concern aimed at Azriel, at the shadows that swirled around him in an angry flurry. He crossed the room and grabbed Azriel’s shoulder before winnowing them to a quiet sunroom, decorated in light, earthy tones. Rhys seemed as if he was waiting for Az to take a seat at the long sofa before them, but he remained standing.

Without one bit of remorse, Azriel leveled a cold glare at his High Lord and stated, “I’ve defied your order and I’ve been visiting Elain.” His voice held an undercurrent of icy bitterness. Rhys stiffened, as if poised for an argument, but Azriel continued before his brother had a chance to speak. “By the grace of the gods she is allowing me to see her, and until she turns me away, I will continue to do so. I don’t give a fuck what you think about it, or what Lucien thinks about it.”

“Azriel—”

Wings fanned out and shadows whirling, he forced his breathing to remain regular and steady, kept his voice flat and devoid of emotion. “If you insist on standing between us, then I will leave this court and find work elsewhere. But I suspect you need me to oversee operations until the unrest subsides, and yesterday gives me reason to believe my dagger may be of importance as well.”

Rhys blinked, his authoritative mask slipping. “You believe I only care to keep you in this court so you can carry out responsibilities?” Rhys asked, thoroughly composed yet incredulous.

“I won’t be discussing this further,” Az stated dismissively before he commanded his swarming shadows to deliver him to the roof of the river house.

Seated on the shingles of the slanted rooftop beneath a cloud-covered sky, Azriel blew out a heavy sigh. He needed fresh air, a moment of solitude before he joined the others in the meeting room two stories below. Despite his cold mask and unwavering composure, Azriel was ablaze with the need to move, to release the roiling anger that had built up until it surged beneath his skin. His siphons flared with blue light as his body ached for a fight. But he was tired. So hopelessly tired. His shadows soothed him, running over the hot skin of his face. They had no words for him, only the comfort of their cool touch.

Azriel. It was Rhys, speaking into his mind. Azriel clamped down his mental walls as a fresh rush of adrenaline barreled through him, as it almost always did when he thought back to that night, to the words his High Lord had fired at him, the words that still haunted him, still tore at him. Words that could stoke his temper in seconds if he gave them any attention.

He shut Rhys out. Shut it all out. Let the familiar chill settle into his skin and bones, extinguishing the heat of his rage, freezing the adrenaline that coursed wildly through his veins, bringing him down from this volatile state until he could once again think straight.

Like a pond with ice spreading over its surface, Az allowed himself to be encrusted with the frigid armor he would need to make it through this meeting with his impassive facade intact.

When he was sure he’d be late if he remained on the roof any longer, Azriel sent himself inside, back to Rhys’s study. Azriel nearly halted mid-step as he entered the room. Feyre was seated at the end of one of the two long tables, Nesta along the side, and it was Elain who sat between them at the corner.

Azriel silently cursed the Cauldron as he walked past Rhys’s desk, toward the tables that were laid out before a set of bookshelves. He’d been counting on securing himself the chance to address what happened between them before they would’ve crossed paths again, to apologize if she was upset with him. Elain’s presence here was the last thing he’d been expecting. He’d never known of a previous instance of Rhys and Feyre inviting her to these meetings.

He’d often wondered if the exclusion upset her or if she’d requested to be left out, but he’d never asked, considering the question too intrusive. Azriel supposed that the High Lord and Lady had extended this rare invitation because of Elain’s role in detecting the foreigner who’d flung herself between worlds.

Mercifully, she gave him a subtle smile before returning to conversation with her sisters. Azriel took a seat beside Cassian, on the same side of the table as Elain, knowing that he would’ve spent the meeting thoroughly fixated on her if she was within his line of sight.

Mor breezed into the room, shutting the door behind her before sliding into an empty seat beside Amren.

“That’s everyone, then,” Rhys declared from beside him, at the end of the table opposite Feyre. Despite the words they’d just exchanged in private, there was a spark in his brother’s eye—of satisfaction and determination. “We have excellent news and a promising development in our quest to contact Aidas, Prince of the Chasm,” he announced, violet eyes scanning the attentive faces of those who sat around the table. The room was completely silent, as everyone anxiously awaited details of a solution that had seemed out of reach just a handful of hours ago. “Bryce has brought it to our attention that in Midgard, there are mystics that are blessed with the gift of sight. They do not perceive the future, but they are able to see across the world, exactly as Elain does.”

Every muscle in Azriel’s body went rigid. His shadows began to swirl and dive around him as Rhys continued with his explanation. “These mystics are capable of seeing far across the cosmos, projecting their sight past the boundaries of their world to visit and communicate with beings on other planets. After a preliminary experiment this morning, we’ve discovered that Elain’s sight can work in the same way.” Azriel blinked. He’d never once heard of any ability like this.

“Magic is weakened in Midgard,” Rhys went on, “And these mystics must work in groups of three and require advanced technology to accomplish this feat. But here in Prythian, magic is much stronger, and Elain has already proven herself capable of projecting her sight past the atmosphere of our world and into the depths of space, and we’re confident she can send it further to find Aidas and speak to him on our behalf.”

Azriel was frozen, in awe that this power existed in their world and had been mastered by Elain so easily, but also gripped with fear over the possible pitfalls in Rhys’s plan—what this might mean for Elain and her safety. Azriel was skeptical that it was truly this simple. This type of magic seldom was.

Azriel casually leaned forward enough to catch a quick glimpse of Elain, who appeared to be a portrait of calm, revealing no trace of what she was thinking or feeling about the task that stood before her.

“Absolutely not,” Nesta snapped. “You will not use Elain for this.”

“There are protections put in place,” said Feyre. “And we feel confident that there is no significant risk to her safety.”

“So there are dangers, then,” came Nesta’s clipped voice. “There must be, if this protection is needed to begin with.”

“Yes, but—”

“You,” Nesta said sharply, cutting off her sister to address the world-traveler. “You’ve seen this in practice? Have you known it to go wrong?”

Bryce’s face in response to Amren’s translation said enough. She had witnessed it at least once—had possibly seen it go awry herself.

“No,” Azriel said, immovable as stone, before the princess could say a word. “The risk is too great. If this doesn’t go as planned, the outcome could be disastrous.”

“Elain is projecting her sight only,” Rhys told them. “Her physical body will remain here with us. There is no reason to believe she would be harmed in any way.”

Azriel shook his head. “You have no idea what you’re doing. You’re sending Elain between worlds to Hel, a planet teeming with demons, on the premise that what you’re doing might be the same as something this stranger has seen on an entirely different planet.” With the ice in his blood honing his anger into something cold and sharp, Azriel aimed his lightless eyes at his brother. “This is reckless, Rhys, and you know it.”

“Elain has looked across our world with great success,” Rhys said confidently. “What she will be doing tonight is not much different. We are only sending her farther with added protections to account for the increased distance.”

“No.” Azriel’s voice was cool and unforgiving. “Elain is not some asset to be exploited. It is not your right to gamble with her like this.”

He couldn’t allow this to happen. His mind was generating one devastating scenario after another—Elain, unable to find her way home, demons attacking her mind, her sight and consciousness held hostage on some distant planet… He fought off a shiver as his body broke out in a cold sweat.

“There will be disastrous consequences for everyone in this world if we do nothing,” Rhys said firmly. “With our plan, the danger to Elain is minimal, but Elain and every single one of us will be doomed if the Daglan return. Elain is aware of the risks and she has accepted them.”

Azriel’s fists clenched beneath the table. With cold authority, he said, “I won’t stand back and watch this happen.”

“Then when it begins tonight, do not come,” Elain replied placidly.

Her gentle order stunned him enough to extinguish his escalating temper. In a low, toneless voice, Azriel ground out the words, “I’ll be searching for alternatives,” before he vanished into shadows.

Thank you for reading!! ❤️❤️ I would be so happy to hear your thoughts if you don’t mind sharing!! ❤️

The way Azriel’s shadows read others’ emotions was a headcanon I introduced in Resilience and Roses based on his bonus chapter when he mentions that he doesn’t need his shadows to read Elain. I imagine that his shadows speak to the darkness that exists in others to uncover the emotions they keep within themselves. 🖤

I left the time skip as a choose-your-own-adventure sort of thing. You can make it sweet or spicy! 😂 Either Az took out the comb so Elain’s calming scent could help soothe him enough to fall asleep, or he used the scent to enhance his fantasies as he pleasured himself to thoughts of himself with Elain, and after he’d finished, the scent lulled him straight to sleep as he imagined what it would be like to fall asleep holding her. 🥰

Next chapter is coming right up! I can’t wait to share it with you guys!! Emotions run high and a big moment is coming!! 🫢

#elriel fic #elriel tbr #🌸🦇💕

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