Summary: Elain agrees to try out training at the House of Wind. Only problem is that it's Azriel who is insisting on training her. The last person she wants to deal with, especially before Solstice.
Elain
Shaking my head, I threw the black and brown leather set on the bed hating every moment of this humiliation. Just by looking at it, I knew that it would never fit me. My sister was taller, lithe, athletic, with a compact frame, lack of hips, a small waist and a thigh gap wide enough for an Illyrian to fly through.
Me?
No, I wasn’t like her at all. There was a time when we were nearly starving to death and my body reflected our circumstances. I was boney, my breasts had shrivelled down to tiny empty sacks, my hip bones protruded unattractively. Thankfully, those days were behind us, but so was my sickly slender body.
I sighed. The whole aventure was rather preposterous. I did not want to do it, but Nesta, as usual, was aggressively persistent, and I agreed, just to keep the peace. She had mellowed out following her marriage–pardon, mating–however, when she wanted something it was impossible to refuse. Whether I wanted the same, was irrelevant.
I stripped off my dressing gown and picked up Feyre’s leather trousers. A small laugh escaped my lips. This was so silly.
Well, I tugged the leather past my thighs! That was surprising. I wasn’t expecting for them to go above my knees. But when it came to my hips, I immediately gave up, not even bothering to try. I sighed again: this was a massive failure. Then, just because I wanted to torture myself even further, I attempted to put on the jacket. It wouldn't come close to buttoning on my chest. In fact, I resembled Morrigan, with her generous bust and her round hips.
I didn’t know what else to do. I supposed that I could go in my dress, but that didn’t seem comfortable or conducive to what Nesta had in mind for me.
“Did it fit?” I heard Feyre’s voice from the hallway.
Scowling, I walked to the door, opened it and handed her her leathers.
“Oh,” her face fell.
She immediately started prattling, “I can look for something else! I am sure I have something that would work for you! I,”
“Forget it,” I answered petulantly.
“No, don’t be upset,” Feyre pleaded. “We’ll find something.”
I wasn’t upset. I was annoyed. With myself, with Nesta, and most of all with myself for agreeing to this stupid endeavour.
“It’s alright,” I told Feyre. “I’ll figure it out.”
I always did.
Azriel
It was early and the training ring was still empty.
I liked the silence. Not to say that my charges were much for talking–they moved silently and obediently–like ghosts, but for once, I could enjoy myself and perform my basic routine all on my own. No jeering Cassian in sight. No ogling from the priestesses or from Nesta. No Gwyn with her annoying questions and childish ‘challenges’. The day when Gwyn Berdara can challenge me, vex me and best me, will be the day when I hang up my boots, hand my resignation to Rhysand and fly to live in my lake mansion, alone and undisturbed.
Alas, I feared that that day would never come. And neither would Rhysand’s promises of providing me with respite from all the training and my daily assignments. Since Mor had promised to take over the priestesses’ training from me, almost eight months had passed and here I was, back on the ring before the first rooster’s crow. Still waiting.
I went through my round of stretches and then moved on to the weights, pushing myself to the point of pain, and enjoying the sting of my stretching and contorting muscles. Anything to take my mind off her.
It’s been months. Months of silence and polite indifference. Months of tension. Months of me not knowing whether she was actually fucking her so-called mate. And even if I knew, what would it matter? What difference would it make? She was free to make her own choices and clearly, I was a bad decision that she just only avoided. Just only. Maybe I should thank Rhysand for pulling me back that Solstice night and forbidding me from pursuing her? Because she didn’t seem to have cared either way. Part of me thought that perhaps she was hiding her feelings, her disappointment, maybe even her pain, but as time passed, I began doubting myself, her. I began doubting everything that had happened on Solstice night. Did I misread the signs? Was her acquiescence nothing more than a figment of my imagination and everything that I had assumed was happening, was just wishful thinking? Did I actually move onto a mated female without her consent? Did I suffer from some mysterious inability to read and understand females?
Who the fuck knows? Almost four years of yearning and wanting and needing and desiring and dreaming and hoping came to naught. And I was tired.
“Good morning Az!”
Nesta’s voice roused me from my reverie.
I did one final, slow pull up, relishing in the pain as my arms lifted my body and my wings off the stone floor. I held my form. The burn increased. Still I held on.
“Hello Shadowsinger!”
I hid my wince. Wince or scowl?
Anyway, I released slowly and finally returned to my feet.
“Oh, I can do that too!” Gwyn announced and rushed to the bars, to demonstrate.
Of course you can
But can you do 500?
Gwyn did a respectable 25 pulls ups.
I forced myself to tell her ‘good job!’
“How many did you do?” she demanded instantly.
“About 50,” I lied.
“Oh, I will do 50 next time!” she promised haughtily.
“Of course you will,” Emerie chuckled and I was glad for the interruption.
Also, I hated being called ‘shadowsinger’. I don’t know why. When Cassian was called ‘general’ or ‘commander’ there was something playful and sexy about that (obviously not when it came from his soldiers). Shadowsinger just didn’t have the same ring to it. It was both formal and frightening.
The priestesses began filing in, quiet and disciplined. Well, of course they were–after all, I was the one who was training them. I wasn’t Cassian. My charges knew when to speak, how to speak, and when to follow orders. Maybe Cass was correct in his assessment, because I think that I am a hardass teacher. But then Cassian babied all of them, and I didn’t believe in making training easier or more palatable, simply because they were female or priestesses from the Library. Frankly, I wasn't very easy on Feyre either, and she was my High Lady.
I grabbed my tunic and dressed, without turning towards the priestesses. I had noticed their innocent interest, but I didn’t want to encourage it. Even though it was easier to train barefoot, I quickly put on my boots, recalling how months ago my shadows reported to me that some of the priestesses waxed poetic about my…bare feet. My physique? I can understand that. I’ve always tried to remain humble about my appearance, since I’ve had no hand in it, but I know that centuries of training and soldering had left their mark on my body. These unfortunate celibate priestesses hardly saw males, so it wasn’t terribly surprising that they’d view me as attractive. But I didn’t think that it had gone as far as my feet.
“Petal!” Cassian’s voice boomed across the ring. “You actually came?!”
My spine stiffened.
There was only one person whom Cassian called ‘petal’. It was something that I found both endearing and annoying. Why was he allowed to call her sweet pet names and I wasn’t? But then, I supposed, she was his actual sister-in-law and I didn’t know what that made me? Nothing. I was nothing.
Nesta, meanwhile, exclaimed “I can’t believe you came!”
To which the response was, “you kept insisting”.
It didn’t sound like she was happy about being here. Not that I was shocked. She wasn’t much for training or having orders barked at her. She stayed fit and happy by tending to her gardens, and her preference for her mornings did not involve cutting ribbons, but eating cardamom buns.
The sisters started whispering to each other, their tones terse and aggressive. My shadows all but dissolved, moving stealthily so they could listen.
You said he wasn’t going to be here!
I didn’t know!
You are lying. You knew he would be.
I didn’t.
I am leaving.
No you aren’t. Don’t be ridiculous. Why do you even care?
I don’t want to do this in front of him, that’s why! And I don’t want to be around him either.
You are behaving like a child!! Whatever happened between the two of you…
Nothing’s happened between the two of us!
Right…You think that I am blind and deaf?
Enjoy your training. Maybe some other time.
Hearing her say that she didn’t want to be around me was disappointing, to say the least. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want our relationship to be broken to the point where we couldn’t be near each other. The anger in her voice told me what I’ve been suspecting for a while. She was upset, angry, and she resented me.
You aren’t leaving, Nesta hissed.
And I agreed. I didn’t want her to leave. I don’t know why she was here, but I’d give anything to have her stay for even five minutes.
I turned around abruptly. Why was I wasting time not looking at her when she was in front of me?
Mother’s. Tits.
My breath stalled in my chest, making it hard to inhale.
Not only was she here, but she was wearing something I’ve never seen her wear before. Tights. Pants. Whatever they were, they made my mouth water. Because they left nothing to the imagination. Her perfect legs were on full display, clad in skintight material. Skintight. And her legs…fucking stunning. She was always gorgeous, whether she was wearing one of her plain, elegant dresses, or a gown. But this. I licked my lips. This was something else. And my dick let itself be known, twitching with excitement at the sight of her. Cauldron damn–this girl. This woman. This female. Every time I saw her, she drove me crazy and right now, was no exception. My obsession with her never eased, never relented. And watching her right now, pink-cheeked, so beautiful that my teeth hurt, so adorably angry just made me crazier than ever.
Besides the tights, she was dressed in a red jumper, also form fitting, and obnoxiously sexual, taunting me with its bright colour (what was she even thinking, wearing this? It was like waving a red cloth in front of a bull!) and with how the wool stretched over her full, glorious breasts. Breasts, that should belong to me, by rights. All of her should belong to me. Those long legs should be wrapped around my hips whenever I want. Those breasts should be bouncing beneath my chest with every thrust of my cock in her. Those coral lips should be moaning my name. Those small pretty hands should be digging into my shoulders.
I schooled my face into a stern, serious expression and approached their little group.
Crossing my arms on my chest, I stopped, pulling the shadows back entirely and ordering them to get the hell out of here, because I already had some ideas on how I wanted to play this out. And for that, I didn’t need my shadows.
I still couldn’t believe that she was here. She looked almost out of place. Also, watching her be out of breath from the climb up here made me smile. My soft girl. She was so precious, lazy and untrained. I was going to keep it that way.
“Hello Elain,” I said. She whipped her head around, her long braid flipping over her shoulder and looked up at me.
“Hello,” she chirped, momentarily forgetting that she should be hating me. Her expression was open and happy. Only then, her smile fell and she took on her typical pose of disdain. Whatever. She could suit herself.
“New recruit?” I queried.
She lifted her chin and informed me, “No. I was just leaving.”
“So you climbed all the way up here to just leave?”
“Indeed.”
I looked at her, sizing her up slowly, raking my eyes over her form, her long slender legs, her round breasts, making her squirm and making her uncomfortable on purpose. Let her squirm.
“Probably a good idea,” I said at last.
“Excuse me? What is?" She was immediately on the defensive.
“You. Leaving.”
“Why is that?”
Gwyn rushed over and loudly greeted her. “Elain! It’s nice to see you. Nesta said that you will be joining. I am happy you came.”
Before Elain could say anything, I butted in and said lazily,
“Oh, she won’t be staying.”
Gwyn gasped, “Why not?”
“Elain decided that this isn’t for her. It does take strength, determination and stamina, after all. To train. Especially to begin training.”
Oh yes. I was blatantly implying that she had none of those things.
“I beg your pardon!” Elain fumed.
I shrugged.
“Beg away, I am just stating the obvious. Would you like me to walk you to the door? Or, would you rather I fly you down?”
“I require none of these things!” she hissed, her cheeks red, her eyes blazing with anger.
I shrugged indifferently yet again. I was enjoying her anger.
I’d take anything other than quiet indifference. Even anger. I didn’t want her hatred, but I wanted her to feel something for me!
“Well, it’s been nice seeing you. Shame you made the trip for nothing.”
I made myself turn and began walking away.
Elain
The cheek on him!
How dare he?
He was the most pigheaded, stubborn and impossible man I’d ever met!
Also, how dare he? Implying that I was incapable of doing his stupid little exercises. If my sister could master this, so could I. She only did it because her man was making her do so and she was in love with him, and back then, she wanted to please him and establish a relationship, whilst pretending as if she wasn’t interested in him. And Nesta was quite lazy. So if she could do it, I could certainly do it too.
First of all, he was wrong about me.
Second of all, I was going to show him that I had stamina and determination, and whatever else he threw in there.
Third of all, why did he even care?
Fourth of all, I stabbed the King of Hybern. So there. I think that I’d already proven my mettle, however, apparently it wasn’t enough for the almighty Shadowsinger.
“Fine, what do we do?” I asked irritably. “How does this training work?”
“Well, we usually start with,” Nesta began saying, her expression that of bemusement and surprise.
“What? Give me a sword and I’ll swing it around,” I requested irreverently.
There was a snort of laughter behind me.
I turned and saw Azriel standing there with that stupid smirk on his face. Who even looked this good at 7:30 in the morning? Didn’t he have anything better to do than hover around us like a bad smell?
“You ain’t getting a sword,” he announced in a flat voice.
“I wasn’t asking you,” I reminded him.
“And I am telling you,” he retorted. “You’ll be lucky you’ll get a butter knife in 5 weeks.”
“Well, if you think that I am going to be doing this for five weeks, you are insane. This is a one-time thing…”
He interrupted,
“Ahh, giving up already?”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at him.
“Why are you even here?” I asked. “I am talking to my sister. And Cassian will be training me. Or Nesta, or…”
“Ohhhh noooo,” he was shaking his head. “Also, stop deflecting.”
“I am not deflecting!” I felt my heckles rise. By the Mother, I couldn’t deal with him and his annoying self for one more minute.
“Come with me,” he all but ordered me.
Was he crazy?
“I am not going anywhere with you!”
He shrugged, as he tended to do.
“Fine. We can do this here, I suppose.”
“Do what?” I asked, exasperated.
“Start the training,” he said simply.
“Why are you involved in this at all?” I couldn't understand why he kept talking and interfering. This was between me and Nesta.
“I train all the novices,” he explained.
“No you don’t! Cassian will train me. Or Nesta.”
“Sorry, but you don’t make the rules here, princess,” he chuckled.
“I am not aiming to make the rules,” I reminded him. “I am simply stating that,”
“That you will be training with me,” he cut me off, his tone allowing no arguments.
Panicking, I nevertheless argued with him.
“Cassian trained Nesta! And Gwyn and Emerie!”
“That was before. You are too late. Now all novices train with me, and then get moved to Cassian.”
“What about Nesta?” I pleaded, a horrifying note of desperation in my voice.
I couldn’t. I simply couldn’t train with him! I didn’t want to. I wouldn’t survive. I didn’t want the proximity either.
“Calm down,” he waved a lazy hand at me. “I am not here to ravish you.”
Heat creeped up my cheeks.
An unwanted memory of that kiss from last Solstice popped into my head, uninvited. I didn’t want to reminisce about that. It was awful and humiliating. The moment he told me that I was a mistake. That me wanting him to kiss me was a mistake. That we were a mistake.
I mean, who even says that to someone’s face? If the idea of kissing me was so repugnant to him, he could’ve just made an excuse and walked away. But saying ‘this is a mistake’? Those words hurt me even more than when Graysen rejected me. At least Graysen had a reason. Azriel sort of led me on, at least I felt that he definitely displayed interest, which wasn’t exactly ‘brotherly’ and that I was correct in reading him. Apparently not.
“I can train Elain!” Gwyn’s exuberant voice jolted me.
She was bouncing on her toes with excitement at the prospect and saying, “Azriel, can’t I? If you don’t want to, I can absolutely do the basic training! I want to!”
Her voice rose with every sentence, excitement bubbling and at the end, she was almost shouting.
“Gwyneth,” he turned to her and his tone was stern. “You are not in a position to train novices yet.”
“I am a Carynthian,” she reminded him feebly, her freckled face burning at his rebuke.
“Be it as it may, it does not mean that you are ready or have had proper instruction on how to train new recruits. Your status and achievements are irrelevant in this case. Please step aside and continue your own routine, or I will have you running laps!”
Gwyn huffed, but did not argue.
I felt embarrassed.
He was awful.
Especially when he looked down at me and briskly ordered “follow me”.
Considering how crazy he was acting, I figured that following him was the smartest thing I could do under the circumstances.
“What a prick you are,” I muttered under my breath, not caring if he heard me. I kind of hoped that he did.
He turned abruptly and glared at me.
“All you need to do is listen to me, do what I say and we’ll have a lovely training session,” he said lightly. “I don’t require any additional commentary from you about my methods or my character.”
I warned him, “you cannot speak to me the way you talk to Gwyn!”
“Don’t give me a reason to, and I won’t,” was all he said.
We crossed the ring and stood on the other side of everyone else. The priestesses were gathering around Cassian.
I suddenly felt horribly self-conscious, knowing that everyone was probably going to be watching us. Again I questioned why I had agreed to this.
“Shoes, off,” he jerked his head towards my feet.
“What?” I balked. “No.”
Sighing exaggeratedly, he said, “and why not, may I ask?”
“I don't want to be barefoot. And…and it’s dirty,” I complained.
“It isn’t. I can assure you.”
“I don’t want to,”
“Is everything going to be an argument?” he groaned.
And then suddenly, he dropped on one knee in front of me.
Alarmed, I stepped back, not understanding what he wanted and what he was doing.
He didn’t explain either–typical of him–but instead, began to pull on my boot laces. He untied the knot and then began loosening the laces.
“I can do this myself,” I protested, trying to balance myself and not fall back. He didn’t respond, but only untied my other boot and then gently wrapped his big, warm hand over the back of my calf.
Azriel
Oh, she liked that. Probably not as much as I did, but she liked it nonetheless.
Not so contrary anymore.
I cupped her ankle in my hand and then carefully lifted her leg and pulled the boot off. She flexed her toes inside her sock, and I removed it as well, dropping it inside the boot. Her foot was small and pale. I’ve seen it before. I just never touched it. She had pretty toes and they were painted a bright red varnish.
“Stand still,” I murmured, as I worked the other boot and sock off. I took my time. Whether she realised it or not, didn’t matter. I held her legs in my hands, I stroked her ankles, pretending like it was accidental and once she was barefoot, I pressed my hand over her feet, steadying her on the stone floor.
“It’s cold,” she whispered, moving her toes under my warm hand.
I looked up at her. Her breasts were rising and falling rapidly beneath her red jumper. And Cauldron help me, but I could see the outline of her nipples beneath the material. Whether it was the cold and my proximity to her, or my touch, I couldn’t be sure what was causing the reaction, but whatever it was, I was enjoying it. And I hoped that it was indeed my touch on her skin.
I realised a while back that she had an aversion to being dirty. When she was puttering in the dirt in her gardens, that was acceptable. That was something that she could control. Otherwise, I figured that any other dirt reminded her of her years of poverty and she avoided mud and being splattered with anything dirty, and didn’t like touching it either.
I got up from the floor and she watched me cautiously.
“What are we going to do?” she asked at last.
Wordlessly, I toed off my own boots and her eyes lit up. It didn’t take much to make this girl happy.
“Are you going to give me a sword?” she asked eagerly.
“No.”
“Why not? A dagger then?”
“No.”
“What can I use then?” she frowned.
“Before you go and hack someone to death, why don’t we start with the basics?” I suggested.
“Basics are stupid,” she pouted.
“Basics are necessary,” I told her. “Bend and touch your toes.”
She offered an obnoxious eye roll and did what I said. I chose not to react to her attitude and just observed her in silence.
“Lower,” I ordered. “Don’t bend your knees.”
“I am not bending my knees,” she argued, as she struggled to keep her knees straight.
“You are,” and I squatted in front of her and placed my hand at the back of her knees. “See?”
“That’s just how they are! They aren’t bent!” she insisted, panting a bit.
“Uh uh,” I mumbled in response. “Now stand up straight.”
She quickly straightened. Her cheeks were red.
“This is your famous training?” she challenged, putting her hands on her hips.
“Oh, you think it’s easy?” I chuckled. Truly she was Nesta’s sister. I sometimes forgot. She reminded me.
She shrugged, “Doesn’t seem too difficult. Considering that I am a Kingslayer and all…”
I struggled not to laugh at her boasting.
“That was luck,” I said.
“No, that was stealth and precision,” she corrected me.
Stealth and precision.
“Touch your toes. Now, since you think that this is easy, I want you not to only touch them with your fingertips, but place your palms flat on your feet.”
She struggled to complete the task, and didn’t succeed. I knew that she wouldn’t. It took practice.
“You do it!” she commanded angrily once she straightened out.
I did. Easily. Wordlessly.
I placed my hands flat, directly in front of me on the stone floor, folding myself in two.
My reward was her muttering ‘show off’.
“Do ten in a row and then we’ll move on to the next exercise,” I said to her.
“I am not doing it alone,” she protested immediately. “You do it with me.”
I didn’t mind it at all and nodded.
She was raging and huffing the entire time, with every count, when I said ‘one, hold, and straighten. Two, hold, and straighten…”
She was bending her knees, and only barely touching her toes, but I let it slide.
Her ass looked magnificent every time she bent and I couldn’t be bothered to correct her terrible form. Her tapered waist slid into her perfectly rounded hips and I took a nice position in front of her, so I could watch how her bottom blossomed into a lovely heart-shaped bow.
“Last one,” I warned. She was red and panting and her braid was all messy. “Come up slowly, rolling your back.”
She shot up straight, totally ignoring my instructions.
“Ten sets is nothing,” I informed her. “We normally do fifty-six at one time.”
“Did you ever consider that you are psychotic?” she pondered seriously.
“Every day,” I assured her.
“At least you are self-aware.”
“Have you done a plank before?” I queried, having a grand old time. I loved winding her up and her retorts were amazing. I’d have to gift Nesta a cheese platter or a fruit basket, to thank her for inviting her ornery sister to training.
“I am a lady,” Elain announced haughtily. “I don’t do planks!’
“Your sisters do,”
“I am not my sisters. I am a lady,” she repeated.
“Would the lady oblige me and show me a plank?” I sketched a bow.
“Why must I?”
“So I can gauge your core’s strength.”
“I can assure you, my core is plenty strong.”
“Come on,” I jerked my head downwards. “I don’t have all day to bandy civilities with you. On the floor.”
“You are so awful. I am not a dog!” she seethed.
“No, you are a difficult trainee. And like I told Gwyn, if you will continue arguing with me, I will make you run laps around the ring. Got it?”
I placed my hand on the small of her back and gently urged her down. She gritted her teeth, but slowly lowered herself on her knees and then propped herself on her elbows.
I wasn’t exactly hating the view from here, Elain on her knees in front of me, but even more than that, I liked it when she listened to me and obeyed my commands.
“Slowly stretch your legs and push on your toes,” I said. It wasn’t right that I was helping her, but I couldn’t help myself. I held the back of her head, and then squatted next to her and helped her extend her legs.
Across the ring, I felt the priestesses and Cassian and Nesta and Gwyn and Emerie observing us. My Fae hearing allowed me to listen to their whispers.
He never helps me like that!
Well, that’s because I am not in love with you.
That’s more touching in 3 minutes than he’s done in two years!
Well, that’s because I enjoy touching her.
I can’t believe he is even helping her with a plank!
He never helped us
There was a lot of complaining and moaning.
I didn’t care.
I watched her stretch in front of me and do the plank. She winced at the pressure in her arms, but held on.
“How long do I have to do this?” she moaned.
“It’s not a matter of how long you need to, but how long you will. And you won’t last long,” I was being a dick, but she enjoyed a challenge.
“You’ll be surprised,” she gritted through her teeth.
“I would be, if you did more than 30 seconds.”
“Are you counting?” she yelled, shaking and grimacing.
“I am.”
“How long has it been?”
“Ninteen seconds.”
“No way!” she cried.
“But you already beat Nesta, so there is that. Hips down.”
“They are down!”
“No. Lower. Parallel to the floor.”
“By the Cauldron, they are down!” she yelled.
“No need to scream.”
I stooped and then, after a brief hesitation, pushed on her lower back.
She stilled and then looked at me.
“What are you doing?”
“Correcting your form,” I hedged. “Do you feel the difference? Keep it like that.”
She was breathing hard, but she was already at 43 seconds.
“Come on, you can do a minute!” I cheered.
She moaned.
“How long can you do?”
“I don’t know,”
“Yes you do! How long?”
“Well, the longest plank I’ve done was 37 minutes but I stopped because I got bored. I could easily go for an hour, but I ain’t got time for that!”
At that point she collapsed on her belly.
“How long?” she grunted.
“1:07. Very good!”
I was honestly surprised.
I expected maybe 20 seconds. The fact that she managed over a minute was impressive. Nesta’s and Emerie’s average time was 1 minute 30 seconds. Gwyn, always the overachiever, typically managed a minute and 45 seconds. But they fancied themselves Carynthians.
I had no opinion on the matter. All I can say is that if you have magic and weapons during the Blood Rite, you aren’t exactly a full fledged Carynthian. But that’s just me.
She turned on her back and looked at me. She didn’t look as hostile as before. Her eyes were glittering, and the apples of her cheek were pink. Her expression seemed satisfied. Happy almost.
After a long pause, she extended her hand to me.
“Congratulations,” I said. “You beat Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn for your first plank.”
I clasped her small cold hand and slowly helped her up.
From across the ring, I heard more whispers.
He actually gave her his hand! I can’t believe it. He wouldn’t do it even when I passed the Blood Rite Qualifier! It was Gwyn complaining.
Yeah, Nesta responded lazily. He always touches her. Too much.
That’s where Nesta was wrong.
I didn’t touch Elain, especially not ‘too much’. I avoided it. I wanted to. I needed to. But I consciously prevented myself from doing so.
The thing between Elain and me was complicated. It was especially vexing because of how our powers merged and responded to each other. I’d felt it first, very acutely, when I was carrying her in my arms when we were escaping from Hybern. When she was hitting the naga with her feet, trying to protect us. I’d never felt such a rush, even if it was muted by the gorsian chains that she was wearing. It strummed and poured over me, so powerful, it took my breath away. It was something that I’d never experienced with anyone, not even with Rhys or Cassian. It was delicious and overwhelming, nearly sexual in the pleasure that it offered. When we finally landed outside the war camp, all I needed was for those damn chains to be removed from her, so I could feel that glorious power again, merging with mine.
That chance came sooner than I expected. Just a couple of days later, when I handed her Truth Teller. I wrapped her fingers around the hilt and my blade sang in response. It was like it was meeting an old friend. It wasn’t alien, it wasn’t tortured. A reunion. I still didn’t know what it meant, other than I suspected that because she was Made, my Made dagger called out to her. But that didn’t explain me. Why I reacted the way that I did to her power? Why it felt so good. So right.
So no, Nesta was incorrect. I didn’t touch Elain frequently. Or ‘a lot’. In fact, I only touched her when the need became unbearable and I couldn’t stand it anymore. When my hands burned, actually burned, with need, that’s when I touched her.
“What’s next?” she asked, sounding kind of excited.
“Balancing.”
“Balancing?” She made a face.
“Are you going to be a problem for me?” I looked at her and asked sternly.
She smirked and retorted, “Oh, I am the whole problem!”
Yeah, wasn’t that the truth.
“Alright,” I scrubbed my hand over my face. Her nearness was wrecking havoc on my psyche and my dick just wouldn’t calm down no matter how I tried. Now, she was holding my hand–still holding it–and that delicious flow of power seeped from her skin and into my flesh, it was even more difficult. I guessed that she didn’t want to release my hand for the same reason–it felt good to her just as it did to me.
Snowflakes, sparse and soft, began falling from the darkening sky. Elain looked up, then stuck her tongue out and caught one or two, whilst I wanted to lick them off her tongue.
“Is it over?” She looked at me, and I wasn’t sure what she was asking.
Training? Us? Something else?
I wasn’t sure but I knew that the answer was going to be ‘no’. An unequivocal ‘no.’ Whatever it was, we weren’t over. We would never be. We were written in the Cauldron’s swirling eddies. In the breath of the Mother. In the magic of the Cauldron. In the stars. In the earth. In our magic. We were written with Forever in mind.
“No,” I said.
She hummed.
“And if I want it to be?”
“You don’t,” I told her confidently. Then, unable to help myself, I smoothed my hand over her hair, tucking a strand into her messy braid.
We stood in silence for a long time, my hand resting on her hip and the other holding her hand. The snow was falling softly. Even from here, I could see the lights of Velaris, glittering with pre-Solstice decorations.
Another Solstice.
The first one was glorious. The next, awful. What will this one bring?
The spell was broken by Cassian and Nesta’s bickering on the other side of the ring. Elain glanced their way, and then extended her hand, catching snowflakes in it.
“Cassian says that they don’t train in bad weather,” she said.
I frowned at her words and asked coldly.
“Cassian said.”
“Yes,” she began saying something else, but I interrupted.
“And what did I say?”
“Umm, that we are not done yet,” she mumbled.
“Exactly. You should be listening to what I say, not to what Cassian says.”
“But,”
“There are no buts. You do as I say. Not some other male.”
She blinked at me, and just when I thought that I might have pushed it too far, she nodded shyly and breathed, “yes”.
My male pride rose in my chest. Gods, I loved it when she submitted to me. Like she did when I almost kissed her last Solstice. When I turned her head the way I wanted it.
“Well then, stand flat on one foot,” I instructed. “Lift your other leg as high as it would go. Raise your arms above your head and see how long you can balance like that.”
She did as she was told, though she immediately careened and wobbled on one foot.
“Hold still. Don’t think about it and try to relax your body,”
“Easy for you to say,” she muttered.
“Try closing your eyes.”
“I’ll fall!”
“I’ll catch you.”
Elain
He caught me.
His proximity was very distracting, so the moment I closed my eyes, I felt myself leaning sideways and right before I began to flail, his hands clasped around my waist and he steadied me.
We never did much by way of touching. We exchanged glances, brushes of fingers here and there. Nothing more than that. Somehow, it felt too overwhelming, too torturous. Once we started, it was impossible to stop. The pull was too strong. So we’ve been cautious.
But when his skin made contact with mine, I could barely think. Particularly when his fingers dug into the flesh of my stomach, and his thumbs skimmed my back.
“Steady,” he breathed into my ear, his warm breath sending shivers down my spine which I was unable to hide. “Relax your limbs, your arms. Don’t think about falling. Simply concentrate on grounding yourself.”
I tried to do as he said. When I did, I noticed that he became noticeably more…pliant. As if when I did something he asked, he sort of melted. Softened. Became more amorous? I am not sure if I was misreading the signs, but despite his hurtful words from a year ago, he wasn’t acting like he felt that we were a mistake.
---
The snow began falling heavier, think clumps of it falling onto the stone floor. The sky hung low and the colour of granite. The wind had picked up and it howled around us. This high up, it was cold.
The priestesses were gathering their things, draping their robes over their shoulders and veils over their heads. Some chatted quietly.
I approached my sister and her friends.
“So, how was it?” Gwyn was first to ask.
“Did you like it?” Emerie added.
“It was…challenging,” I admitted. It was. My muscles were sore. I was tired, but also energised.
“He is very hard,” Gwyn nodded, sighing. “I actually prefer Cassian as a trainer. Don’t tell him,” and she quickly glazed behind her, to make sure that Cassian wasn’t in an earshot, “but Cassian is kinder. He is more forgiving. He is encouraging. Azriel is strict, to say the least.”
“That he is,” I confirmed. Though I didn’t feel like he was any different from how he usually was. Hard and unyielding, but tender and careful. Or perhaps, that’s how he was with me. I wasn’t sure.
“I agree with Gwyn,” Emerie said. “Illyrians, all the soldiers, all the troops groan when Azriel arrives at the camps to train. They know that play time is over.”
I laughed.
I could see that.
“Hey Elain,” Azriel’s deep, beautiful, smooth voice came from behind me and I turned to him. Everyone seemed to look at us. He was moving slowly across the ring, tugging his jacket over his broad shoulders. His wings were pressed tightly behind him, but not in a severe way, like they were sometimes. He seemed relaxed.
“Yeah?” I answered.
His smirk was mischievous.
“Care to come with me one of these days for a hot chocolate? Extra whipped chocolate. Grated chocolate on top?”
I smiled. He knew my order. Because of course he did.
Welcome to Elriel Month 2026! This year, we're changing things up! Instead of limiting ourselves to just a few prompts to celebrate Prythian's prettiest couple, we have a different prompt for each day of the month, and we've intentionally left them open-ended. Participate in as many days as you wish, and feel free to interpret the prompts as literally or as creatively as you like.
We cannot wait to see how everyone chooses to celebrate our Seer and our Shadowsinger in May. 🦇🌸
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Thanx darlig, I hope you had a nice time reading my scrambled rambling 🥰😍 In another dimension I'm sure I'm posting complete stories with complex world building within a reasonable time from one chapter to another, but in this one we are all cursed with me daydreaming head canons where some of them evolve to a couple chapters that i keep convincing myself I turn into a full fic 😃 (spoiler alert, I could not)
Sometimes I come here for some self-care reading my own fic, then I get mad at myself for loosing inspo because I get invested and they are all incompleeeeeeeeeeeeeeete kill me now
This elriel short piece was originally inspired by the poem No Meio do Caminho by Carlos Drummond de Andrade, with Elain being a witch and Azriel serving Rhys' tyrant father who is the current high lord of Night Court. In a troublesome stormy night the fates present Elain with a daring secret to keep. Living in hiding in a peaceful village, Elain must decide if the dangers of her task are bareable or too much to handle.
it's been so long since I logged in my computer that now the home screen is all different and i couldn't find my drafts at first...
Warning: gore, violence, assault, men being the devil even in dimensions they are deemed males...
Continuation to III. A Trespasser(check part I for warnings)
IV. The Witch
Elain could tell the soldier was young from the arrogance dripping from every step he took towards her inn, soon discovering that checking the inside wasn't his only intention. To her sorrow, the male decided to stay lodged for the night, spending most of the day inspecting the woods surrounding the property as if he could feel what he was looking for was finally within reach. A hunter scenting the blood of his injured prey.
From the kitchen wide windows she could see him disappearing in and out of view, the charm she whispered to enhance her vision allowing her the perfect sight of his displeasure to finding nothing. Elain snickered to herself. She had always had a knack for diversion, but in the latest decades of her blissful quiet life the witch had also improved her runes, precise and carefully carved runes able to enhance her spells, like the 'notice me not' and 'forget me' carved over and over again on the arch of a particular bedroom door, now noticeable only for the one who knew what to look for.
Slowly, Elain mixed the final spices in the brooth, readying supper for five. She wouldn't bother fixing a separated meal for the soldier in order to not draw attention to herself, so a meal for them all it is. She prayed to the mother so that the male wouldn't be there long enough to use the fresh sheets she stretched in his chosen room earlier. Earlier the malicious intent is his eyes told her he had no intention of making this an enjoyable night. At least not for her. Elain looks at her girls sitting in the corner of the kitchen floor, quietly giggling as they crushed flower petals with the help of a wooden pestal. She smiles at them and took a deep, deep, breath.
Now the only thing left is ready herself.
The interior of the inn grew quiet. With a long and low whistle the spaced torches spread along the darkwood walls lit one by one. In the busiest seasons the eating room resembled a tavern more than an inn, the interior livid and bustling with travelers from different cities, sometimes even Courts. Now the same space lied quiet and stagnant, as if the aged wood was also preparing for the events of the night. The sun had long set and the children's bed time neared when the male finally stopped hounding the grounds e returned for a bath.
"Food." He barked at her on his way upstairs.
Elain had no intention of taking him food there. The minutes passed by, her decision becoming clear, the soldier marching back downstairs with steps heavy enough to delivery her his displeasure. He sat himself at the farthest table from the opening connecting the eating room and the kitchen; a pety rebellion to make her walk long while balancing a tray.
"You kept me waiting."
"I don't service in the rooms."
Elain smiles at him sweetly while placing his food down - soup, the hardest chuck of bread she could find, and tepid ale. She had filled his mug with the cheapest one and spat on it.
“A female running an inn by herself,” he voices with disdain. “How odd.”
It was no surprise to her that Night Court wasn’t warm towards females. Especially not the ones without a male do protect them.
“Maybe in your court,” she replied. "It's quite common here."
"Only Helion is fucked enough to condone with this nonsense." He sneered dismissive, ome hand closing over the silverware she ofered. "There's no teeth." He mused suddenly, turning the smooth knife, that was supposed to be a bread knife, from one side to the other.
"I cut better with a good sharpened edge." She pointed out.
The soldier eyed Elain as if she was dumb, ignoring her for a moment to lift the bawl and gulp the soup with a long and wistful moan.
“Fuck. I haven’t had a good meal in days,” he muttered ripping a piece of old bread with his hands. “Haven’t had a warm bed either.” He looked up at her, licking his lips suggestively.
Her eyes twitched slightly.
“I’m sure our rooms will be just as pleasant as the food."
"Are you, now?
"Of course. I'll let you enjoy your food. Good night." With a tight smile she sayd her goodbyes, turning to walk away and tuck her girls in her own bed for the night. The safest place of this inn.
But the male was faster. His hand darted to her wrist, wrapping around her flash harshly to yank her back. Elain stumbled in his direction, her hip knocking on the edge of the table painfully. She hissed low.
"What gives a weak little thing like you, the confidence to run an inn alone?"
"I'm not alone. " She bite back, trying to snatch her wrist free.
His eyes moved to the twin little girls playing closer to the stairs.
"Right. The bitch has puppies."
"Hey!"
“I must get lonely for you," he continued as if he hadn't just offended her. "Having no male to keep you warm at night. Fucking miserable, huh?!”
“Fuck you." She spat in a heat.
The male's face grew angrier as he gave her another hard pull, but Elain was ready this time, planting her feet on the ground and refusing to move closer.
“No need to play coy with me sweetheart, you seem like a smart female. You know what comes next.”
Elain keeps her voice low and even to say, “This is not a brothel.”
Chuckling, the male cooked his head. “No? Then why am I seeing a whore?”
She tried to coil her own anger, tried to keep her expression neutral, but the brute was making it really hard for her.
“You don’t want to do this.” She warns, gaze churning.
“Mommy?” an uncertain child voice interrupts their low argument.
Elain's head snap straight to Nuala, who is now standing to hold her sister's hand, Cerridwen worried gazed mimicking her distressed call. The girls watch her with mirrored frightened expressions. Fixing her own face, Elain gives her daughters a reassuring smile.
“It's okay sweety, mommy is having a conversation for a moment. So why don't we play a game together.” Suspicious, the girls looked at her, then at the male. Elain whistles loudly, demaning their attention. “Hey, let's play a game with mommy," she repeats with confidence. "We’ll play hide and seek, your all times favorite. You girls go upstairs and hide, and mommy will come looking for you."
“But mommy – ”
"You must stay hidden, understand?" Elain cut her daughter short, voice turning stern. "Don’t come out ‘till I go looking for you. Okay?”
“But mommy – ” the little girl tried again, only to get shut harder.
“Do as you are told Cece!” Now all warmth was gone from her mother's voice. “Get your sister and go upstairs. Now.”
The roughness of her command is enough to get the girls moving, their soft steps padding upstairs in their escape. Elain is so busy making sure they are out of sight and safe that she doesn’t strugle when the male pulls her to his lap, the coldness of his leather pants seeping like dread through her cotton dress.
“Shame to send them to bed so early.”
“I don’t want them to see what will happen,” to you. She completes in her mind.
She’s is a block of tension and stillness on his lap.
“Why? You should let them watch and learn. Where I’m from, the earlier you start, the more coin you learn how to get.” A cold hand finds her chin, prying her mouth open. “Let’s see how early you started. On your knees.”
"You'll regret this." She warns.
The soldier slaps her on the cheek.
"On. Your. Knees."
Elain stares at him for a long moment, then exhales loudly, drooping to her knees with all the resilience she doesn't possess.
“You’ll regret this,” she declares once more, gaze fiercely looked on his.
The male simple laughs, muterring about dumb farmer bitches before busing himself with undoing the laces holding his pants up, malice intent thickning at the sight of her face so close to his groin. Had he not been a foolish youth, green with arrogance, who considered her a meek breakable thing for the simple fact of begin a female, the male would have notice the warning for what it was: a threat.
However, the male was a fool, thinking Elain the same as the subjugated lesser females of his Court, hiding themselves within their dark villages, having to get used to idiot males - such as this one - invading their homes, having to get used to be toyed and fucked with for the price of keeping their lives and the lives of their loved ones.
But Elain Archeron wasn't a lesser fae from Night Court.
No, Elain Archeron was a fully-fledged witch whose ownership belonged to no one.
And Elain Archeron was not week.
One moment the male was freeing himself, leaning back on his chair to bask in the easy victory, cold fingers tangling in her hair as he pushed her forward in the direction of his groin. The next, his jagged scream was filling the empty room, piercing her ears as Elain bite down on his cock. Hard. Sharp teeth sunk in his flesh, the characteristic taste of high fae blood flooding her mouth, warm and metallic, as her hand darted to the table, grabbing the knife to slice the soon-to-be-useless-flesh out of him in a swift motion.
A fresh torrent of cursing and screaming spilled from the male’s lips as he punched her away. Elain fell backwards awkwardly with his limp cock hanging from her teeth, the heavy lump soon falling on the ground with a wet thud. Blood flooded her mouth. Her smile was triumphant and gory and didn't last long for the male kicked her in the teeth, her face hitting the wooden foot of the table on the way down.
“Motherfucking whoring bitch!” He spat at her in fury kicking in her general direction, holding his bloody groin as if his hands alone were able to stop the bleeding or the searing pain.
They weren’t.
Elain moved again. While one hand lifted to protect her face, the other blindly searched back for the knife. Elain wasn't a stupid female who couldn't even differentiate a butter knife from a regular one. She hadn’t place this knife for him to use. No, this knife was a long date companion of Elain. She knew this knife like the back of her hand, and once said hand closed itself around the hilt again, Elain let him kick her just to grab a hold of his foot, making a fresh slash on the achilles heel.
The soldier yanked back only to fall down. Before he could recovered Elain moved, throwing herself at him with a roar, plunging the knife on whatever piece of flesh she could manage until he tried to held her back and exposed his belly. Perfect. She aiamed there, ready to sunk the knife in the soft flesh covered by the black shirt, meaning to bury it deep and give it a good twist in his guts before ripping it out.
But the male was faster. The soldier she judged a foolish youth might be so, but he wasn’t week either. Instinct for survival came throught in his snarly as he overpowered her movements, bloody hands punching her stomach hard enough to make her own blood mix with his in her mouth as he mounted her strugling body, making sure to pine her arms close to side and keep her trapped.
“Fuckin' - bitch.” He wheezed.
“Let go of me! Let go!” Elain grunted trying to free herself, tired bruised body struggling under the heavy male.
“Trying - to - fuckin' gut me."
"Let me go!" She screamed at his face as they both breathed down hard.
He eyed the knife in her hand. Elain took the moment to try and bite him, but the male wasn't so distracted as she thought, pushing her head down hard on the floor before she could manage to lift her torso too much. He moved up on her body, sitting himself fully on her stomach to crush her air out, wincing as his mutilated body make contact with hers. Angry, he bashed her head on the hardwood floor again, making her dizzy and disoriented, his distorted voice sounding too close and too far at the same time.
"You little farm bitch. Do you have - any idea of what you've done?" His hands moved to her neck as he began to choke her, big hands cutting the air her windpipe in seconds, "I going to enjoy killing you. And then - I'm going to kill the little rodents you hide upstairs - and enjoy it too."
Her eyes began to roll back, but the witch forced herself to keep her focus on the male, his hate for her a mirror of her own for him. Elain gasped uselessly for air, murderous eyes above her glinting at the sight of her struggle. Black dots coated her vision, lungs screaming for air as Elain grew red on the face, legs spasming. The ceiling faded above, the male going with it as her eyes rolled back again. This time she could not control them.
That's when the male doubled over her vomiting right beside her face.
With the presure on her neck gone, Elain sucked a much needed breath, coughing as she used her elbows to half-crawl from under the sick male the kept pouring his guts on her floor. Bloody and bruised, Elain rubbed her sore neck.
The poisonous vomit-root took longer than she expected to work. The thing was, the witch had counted on him eating his entire supper before trying to be a despicable male. She should have known Night Court scums had no manners no matter where they were.
“Even a dog - knows not to bite the hand - that feeds it,” she whized in a hoarse voice.
Tear-eyed, the male glared in her direction, opening his foul mouth to insult her, no doubt, a task he didn't manage to complete before vomiting again. He would be doing that a while with the dosage she doused in his soup.
Elain lifted a hand to the throbbing back of her head, not startling at the sight of her blood in her palm. He had tackled her pretty hard. Kneeling on unsteady legs, Elain grabbed her trusted knife again, white-hot pain making her vision waver for a second. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing hard, willing herself to move before he could recover, willing herself to finish the job.
Struggling, she slammed her body on his, sinking the knife on the male's abdomen with shaking hands before opening him from side to side. His guts spilling from the wound in seconds, his blood dark bluish and wrong from the poison. His grunt was a wet gurgling ugly thing, the male drowning in pain and vomit as the light went out of his eyes.
Panting, Elain slumped to over knees, nose wrinkling at the ugly mess and the smells now coating the eating room. She ran the back of her forearm over her mouth, trying to ride herself of the dead male’s blood in her tongue, swallowing back the nausea at the sight of blood and vomiting mixing in a pool all around her, pretending not to know it was probably in her hair too.
Gods, why hadn’t she done it outside? A hose on the yard was way more practical to clean than bending her back to scrub this entire place.
Her misery was interrupted by a creack uspstairs, her head snapping up in search of the reason of the noise.
And there he was.
The reason she was covered in battle and gore.
The illyrian male she had hidden.
Why had she done it? Saved him. Elain wasn't so sure herself.
The Illyrian stood at the stair top, half-leaning against the wall, lifeless eyes watching. She must have summoned him with all the noise.
His once shaven head had regrown dark hair all over it, covering the swirling tattoos she saw on his skull on the night she found him. A curious mass of shadows twirled around his limbs, curling up his shoulders in a dense dark cloud that erased the entire hall behind him. He stood there clad only in floral loose pants - which she had sew from scratch using two of her old dresses, and a bandaged chest - which white linen was now smeared with bits of blood and other fluids from his injuries. The ruined bandage was common sight.
Most nights he struggled so much in his sleep that his stiches were prone to break day in or out. He kept losing blood from the wounds were his wings used to be no matter how many times Elain sew the shut, a putrid black liquid spilling along with it. Poisened. She had been bleeding him dayly to clean his blood, managing to clear the color of the liquid but not heal him entirely. Elain needed to know what they had used on him in order to do that.
In all honesty, Elain had no idea how he had been able to get up by himself after nearly three weeks of fretful slumber. Even from afar and partially cloaked in shadows he looked half dead, dull eyes far too sunken in the sockets, skin melted into a sickly shade of grey. Her mind itched to check on his wounds and his healing progress upon seeing him awake, but her intentions were short lived once she saw something other than her that may have cause him to rise.
The shadows surrounding his body moved farther, wavering to reaveal that at each side of the illyrian rested a child of hers. Her breath staled in her chest as she noticed their faces covered entirely by his hands in an attempt to close their eyes. The Illyrian stood with her girls as if he had saw them running to Elain's aid and barely managed to stop them, as if he had saw the unavoidable carnage downstairs and decided the children should be spared of it.
An unknown emotion sparkled in her chest. She placed a hand on it.
Good, she thought to herself. Good.
The children didn't need to see her like this. It was good that he hide it from them.
Somewhere outside, an owl chirped.
The Illyrian watched her, then the body splayed on the floor, then her again. Their eyes meet. Unspoken understanding and gratitude, mingling with the uncertainty of finally being in each others awake presence was reflected on each of their faces.
Quietly, the illyrian dipped his chin in acknowledgement of her deeds.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she did the same at him.
They spoke no words.
Yet she had killed for him.
And now she had a body to dispose off, before the entirity of Night Court came searching for it.
Redoing a picture I did of Lucien last year. I thought it would be fun to see how different it looks now. Also, Lucien described in leathers, with a ponytail down his back, blood splattered on his face, was the hottest thing in ACOTAR series hands down.
For this piece, I imagined Azriel as a merman living in a pond in Elain’s garden, observing the beautiful gardener from afar and falling in love with her secret, lovely beauty. Elain eventually discovers him after he’s been observing her for some time and is just as smitten with him despite the challenges they would face. I loved the idea of a different kind of twist on forbidden love for MerMay/Elriel Month and Andi knew exactly how to capture what I had been envisioning 🌸
Thank you @jpeg.andie for always being so wonderful to work with!! This was such a fun piece to collaborate with you on, it came together so beautifully, and you blew me away with all of the exquisite details!! 🥰
And thank you so much to the hosts of @elrielmonth for facilitating another beautiful event despite the challenges thrown your way this year! 💕
Find it on IG here
🎨Art by: @jpeg.andie
✨commissioned by: me
📚characters belong to: @sarahjmaas
Likes, shares, comments, saves are always encouraged and appreciated!
Hello lovely 🌸 when can we expect another chapter of ‘the midnight kiss’? We’ve got to know how it continues, I feel like I am holding my breath until you share your amazing work with us 💕
Oh hello there love, I have no clue 😃 I'm too numb to write a happy sparkling romcom. I had some good days and I really, really, thought that I could finish TMK before the meaningless of existence knocked me out, but we'll, I could not finish. In the end I'm weaker than my enemy, and now I have ripped poor Azriel's wings in a sad attempt to write even if it's melancholic, but guess what? I can't continue that either 😃 so well, that's who I am as person nowdays
"Easy," Lucien said.
Cassian snarled.
"Easy," Lucien repeated, and flame sizzled in his russet eye. The flame, the surprising dominance within it, hit Cassian like a stone to the head, knocking him from his need to kill and kill and kill whatever might threaten-
Lucien Van fucking Serra showing the markers of a Highlord in the making!
Azriel loves the beach. He loves the sun, first and foremost, the brightness, the warmth, the way it burns his skin, the way it makes her freckles pop, the way peaches taste when still warm from the branch.
He loves the softness of the sand beneath his feet, how painfully hot it gets under the blazing rays.
But most of all, he loves the sea. The ever changing colors, the teal and the turquoise, the periwinkle blues, the gold-tipped waves. He likes the sound of the sea, the lapping of water over his feet, and the sparkling path that the setting sun leaves upon the surface.
He sneaks to Summer Court as often as he can. There are secluded beaches there, which he found upon his travels. There, he can swim and sunbathe without anyone gawking at him. His wings aren’t strange, and if anyone recognizes him, then they don’t show it. If he has the time, he rents out a small white house, where he sleeps, watches the sun rise above the pristine waters, drinks wine, eats fish that he buys from the fishermen. They know him. They never see his shadows, so he isn’t known as ‘the shadowsinger’. Only as an Illyrian.
One day, he takes her there.
It’s not planned.
She is in the kitchen, waxing poetic about an apricot tart that she’d eaten in her childhood and that she never forgot. He listens, because whatever she says is somehow interesting to him. Or maybe it’s just her voice. The lilting nature of it reminds him of the sea.
He grabs her hand and winnows. The scream dies in her throat by the time they land.
It’s awkward. He is usually not this impulsive. But they are in the tiny garden next to the whitewashed house. There is an apricot tree, heavy with fruits. Dumbly, he mutters ‘apricots. For the tart.’
The tart is forgotten.
There is nothing more beautiful to him than the look of awe and love on her face when she looks at the emerald sea. He remembers that she is a merchant’s daughter, and that the sea is in her blood.
Without a word, she unbuttons her dress. It’s summer, it’s light, and it falls around her feet with a whisp. He is flabbergasted. He just watches her toss her silky undergarments off and whether he is hallucinating or not, he isn’t sure, but he is quite positive that he is watching her walk naked into the sea.
And just like that, the sea becomes an even more magical place.
He doesn’t hesitate. He tears off his own clothes and he is so impatient that he flies the short distance between the house and the water. He dives in loudly and messily. She laughs, watching him.
The sun is warm. Her freckles pop. Her brown eyes are the color of coffee. Her golden brown hair shine in the sun.
Peace and quiet.
Azriel is happy.
For the first time in his life, he is happy. He reckons that there is something that he loves even more than the sea.
We are so excited to present the official prompt descriptions for the fifth-ever ELRIEL MONTH!! Like the previous few years, we will have two prompts per week that center on different aspects and scenarios of the relationship between Elain and Azriel. We aim to foster a positive space for us to celebrate our favorite Seer and Shadowsinger. Remember to tag us (@elriel-month) to be featured on this page!
We cannot wait to celebrate with you! 🦇🌸💙🗡🌹
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Elriel Month AO3 Tag
🎨 Art: tpiola_ (IG) | Comm: bookishbiologist (IG)
Rules and bi-weekly prompts under the break!
RULES:
✷ Participation of each day/prompt is optional!
✷ Ideally, post your art/work on the week of the prompt. However, if you cannot post on time, post whenever you can.
✷ Elriel month will be across Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram.
✷ If you want to be featured on this blog please tag @elriel-month in your posts so we can reblog them
✷ On Tumblr while posting your piece of work please use the following hashtags: #elrielmonth #elrielmonth25 #elrielmonth2025
✷ No hate or slander towards other characters!
✷ Your submission can be a fanart, fanfics/oneshots, edits, gifset, moodboard, playlist - anything you deem acceptable.
✷ The final prompt is free choice - you can indulge your own prompt or Elriel fantasy!
✷ Be respectful of other people’s work. Do not repost without permission and credit.
Prompts
Death & the Maiden: May 1-4
In many ways, Elain and Azriel embody the "Death and the Maiden" trope: Elain personified as goodness and light, and Azriel as the broody, dark warrior surrounded by shadows. This prompt is all about exploring Elriel's light and dark aesthetic. How do you see this dynamic playing out?
From the moment Rhys commanded Azriel to stay away from Elain, a great forbidden romance was born. Use this prompt to explore Elriel's star-crossed story: how do you see them defying fate (and their High Lord) to be together, despite the odds?
🎨: lacampanule (IG) | Comm: lazydaisyreads (IG)
Guilty as Sin: May 8-11
It wouldn't be an Elriel Month without an opportunity to explore our favorite couple's sexy sides. For this prompt, it's time to get spicy and highlight the chemistry between Elain and Azriel. Feel free to make things as NSFW as you'd like them to be!
Throughout the series, SJM emphasizes the importance of choice and free will - and this prompt is your chance to delve into how those things will play out for Elriel. What lengths will they go to choose each other? Will there be a grand "I choose you!" declaration?
With Elain's gifts as a Seer and Azriel's skills as the Spymaster, these two are quite literally the eyes and ears of the Night Court. Let's explore how Elain and Azriel's powers complement each other. Do you imagine them working together? Undertaking spy missions? Using their powers to help one another?
🎨: honeyypears (IG) | Comm: cassianfanclub_ (IG)
Fairytales: May 19-21
We certainly hope that Elain and Azriel have a fairytale romance in their future! For this prompt, indulge all your most whimsical, romantic ideas about Elriel. Maybe you want to explore a fairytale AU, or imagine them waltzing through a ballroom together - let your imagination run wild!
🎨: elainem97 (IG)
Peace & Quiet: May 22-25
As Feyre observes, Elain and Azriel find a peaceful refuge in each other. Use these days to explore Elriel's domestic life. How do you imagine their quiet moments at home? How do they spend their time together, and what hobbies do they share? What is their family life like?
🎨: adduani (IG) | Comm: elain_kingslayer (IG)
Visions of the Future: May 26-28
It's time to channel your inner Elain Archeron and make some predictions: what do you think the future has in store for Elriel? Now's your chance to share all your theories and predictions about how you see the future unfolding for these two lovebirds. The possibilities are endless!
For the final days of Elriel Month, feel free to celebrate Prythian's prettiest couple however you see fit. There's only one rule for this prompt: show your love for Elriel. Beyond that, the sky's the limit!
Maybe this is somewhat controversial, but I would not mind, and in fact would love to see Elain try to work it out with Lucien. I don't want anything sexual happening between them, however, I would like to see actually not just HAVE a choice, but also MAKE a choice.
I feel like it would make for a much more interesting and dramatic turn, if Elain, maybe because she is pissed off, or simply disappointed with everything and everyone, decided to try it with Lucien. If everyone is talking about the joys and glory of the mate bond, perhaps she is missing something? some vital part that she doesn't understand? And whether she goes to the human lands or stays in Prythian, but I would love to see more TENSION.
I need Azriel's jealousy and his realization that he might have just lost the one thing that mattered the most. That he did an unforgivable thing by telling her that she made a mistake and I want him to watch her and her pain and know how deeply she was wounded, all because of how strongly she felt about him.
And I'd like to see Lucien! come to a realization that he relates to Elain much better as a friend, as a power-mate, than a romantic partner. I'd like to watch a man be stuck in the same position as the woman--Lucien feeling the same pull towards Vassa, as Elain feels towards Azriel. And yet both of them are bound by this thing that they don't want.
I just really want stakes! Real stakes. Struggle within all these parties involved in this strange circle.
I think that when Elain ultimately makes a choice, it would be in conjunction with Lucien's. Essentially, I'd like to see something that is the opposite of Feysand vs Tamlin. Something more mature and emotional.
I don't know if SJM has it in her, but in life, things are rarely black and white, with one party being in the right and the other, totally in the wrong. I hope she will learn to understand nuance and would channel it into the next book.
I want to read about the consequences of his choice, because no matter what the fuck Rhys had to say, the choice to reject Elain was his.
He doesn't think he's good enough, nor deserving, so shutting her out it is. And you know what? Fuck him. Elain has been let down by men and fae I'm looking at you Lucy one too many times.
And I love Lucien, so it would hurt to read about him again, to get his snarky living and colorful self from book one back, because that baby is in desperate need of a break from other people's shit. It's time to look at your own shit bro, your personal life has a lot going on too
