Fundamentals in Caring for House Plants
Chapter 1, "Ensuring Proper Light Exposure," of Fundamentals in Caring for House Plants by Insulindsay on AO3
Tips and tricks for nursing your fern, ficus, and succulents back to health.
(Elain is a novice house-sitter and Azriel has an abundance of house plants in need.)
Set in between the events of A Court of Frost and Starlight and A Court of Silver Flames
If she’d been wearing pink, he would’ve thought they’d traveled back in time.
The fading summer sun sat on the other side of the Sidra, washing the front room of the River House in decadent golden light. In front of the large windows bathed in that brilliant warmth, a simple lounge faced him, it’s occupant seemingly oblivious to anything around her as she stared out toward Velaris. Legs gathered on the cushions, the train of her gown fell to the floor below in a curtain of lavender. No books lay next to her, but the almost impossible silence of the room was identical to the memory of that day he carried her to the Town House–the day they’d walked through the gardens together.
She hadn’t worn that pink gown since then.
“Did you enjoy the lemonade?”
Azriel’s shadows fell away from him, disappearing like the rising smoke of a candle. Elain tore her gaze from the window to see his frame pausing in the doorway, a faint smile on her lips as he made no effort to appear casual whatsoever.
He nodded, quickly but stiff, like it was a gut reaction instead of a calculated answer.
“And the asparagus?” Amusement danced in her eyes.
Hands twitching behind his back, Azriel entered the room and cleared his throat. “Lovely. Thank you for preparing it.”
She shrugged gently. “It’s easy when your audience is so receptive.”
“I suppose that’s true. Cassian doesn’t pay very close attention after the first few bites.” His brother was not only an easygoing dinner guest but nearly always made sure there were little to no leftovers available when everyone finished eating–a habit he had likely picked up from his formative years.
“He might have noticed that I asked about lemonade and asparagus when we actually had wine and brussels sprouts, though,” she teased with a laugh, mouth quirking to the side.
Shit.
She was grinning at him as she patted the seat next to her on the lounge. “You can tell me if the chicken was overcooked. I can see how that could be distracting.”
“No–I…it wasn’t.” Azriel moved toward her, face faintly flushing a deep red. He sat, facing away from the window as Elain remained angled toward the golden sun streaming into the room. If he blinked for too long, it was like the images were combined into one, her sullen face from a year ago a shadow beneath the freckles that splashed across her skin today.
“Then would you like to talk about what’s on your mind? I may not be as strategic or sharp as my sisters, but I’ll always be willing to listen.”
It was more than honor or duty that drew him to watch over the middle Archeron sister, and it made Azriel grimace to think she didn’t see how valuable she was to the makeup of their court. No, she wasn’t just a good listener–and even if she wasn’t strategic or quick-witted, it wouldn’t change the fact that she deserved to live a life that she found purpose in.
“It’s nothing,” he said quickly, “forgive me.”
“Nothing seems like quite the puzzle. Do you always get so fixated on nothing?”
He almost grinned at her prodding–when was the last time someone had tried interrogating him? “I try not to.”
“So perhaps nothing can be solved? Let me know if I can help, then. I’ve got nothing but free time.”
Her smile had faltered on the last few words, chipping further at Azriel’s peace of mind. He knew she was doing better these days, that she’d found a better rhythm to daily life in Prythian after the war with Hybern. But with the passage of time there was always change, and even though Feyre’s pregnancy had brought the two younger sisters closer, Azriel had still noticed the melancholy in Elain’s idleness–A glance toward the floor in discussions of home renovations. A swift exit during diplomatic visits from neighboring High Lords.
He took a slow breath and found himself doing something with ease that had normally never come naturally to him: he let someone in.
“There’s one thing, actually, yes.” Azriel tried not to focus too intently on her eyes brightening before him. “If you’d...like.”
“I believe I would.”
A knot had found its way in between his brow, but his tone was smooth and calm. “I have an apartment in Velaris.”
Elain paused, a hundred different questions forming on her lips.
She’d admit she hadn’t considered the possibility of something so...simple for where Azriel might have spent time when he wasn’t away on a mission or around the other members of the Night Court. It had occurred to her, yes, that he might have had a personal life outside of being the spymaster, but it had always seemed more likely a proclivity for sharpening his knife...or sitting in silence. “An apartment? Why?”
“I like having something that’s mine,” he said quietly, matter-of-factly, and his expression turned more vulnerable than she’d ever seen it. “Something the others don’t know about.”
“And you’d share that part of yourself with me?” A flutter in the pit of her stomach threatened to give her away, to get too excited for what this moment might have meant if she didn’t know any better. The sun was nearly under the horizon now, casting a softer glow on Azriel’s enormous wings, almost purple throughout the sprawling surface.
He shifted, only a fraction of an inch, toward her. “I think you could benefit from having something that’s yours, too.”
Sense wouldn’t come to her. Elain grasped at any logical reasoning for why Azriel might have been telling her this, why he might have wanted her to know something that even his most trusted family members weren’t privy to, but she only found herself hoping for a possibility that could never be. It took all she had to squash that hope as she always did–to remain as neutral as possible.
“Are you suggesting I buy myself an apartment?” she said playfully, stomping that flutter out of her like an extinguished flame. “I’m not sure I can afford one quite yet.”
A frown. Did he dislike hearing the truth of her new life, not quite independent but more vulnerable than she ever expected to be as a lady in society?
“You shouldn’t be concerned over money ever again.” He’d gone stony in an instant, a muscle in his jaw twitching as the only indicator he wasn’t actually made of carved marble.
“It’s alright, Az–”
“It’s not,” he said lowly, stare fixed at the ground. “You saved us all, Elain. Paying for a home should not be something you ever have to worry about.” He shifted once more, a fist hidden at his side.
Elain hadn’t exactly thought of it that way–hadn’t considered her role in the final battle with Hybern to be some sort of payment toward any future debt she could incur. She had been warming up to the idea of calling this place home when it held the promise of her family being with her for the rest of their lives, so it wasn’t necessarily her first thought to consider what independence she’d expect to have once the dust settled on a time of peace.
When that time came, it might have been more appropriate to seek a position outside of the court politics, barring any necessary training or involvement that she would be required to have for her “seeing” powers that they still didn’t understand. Such a life would be outside anything she would’ve had in the human realm, but seemed almost….preferable in Prythian given that her sisters were close by. Above all, she knew she always wanted that.
Perhaps, at the moment, she just needed to understand where she fit. How she’d live. “Is this an invitation to live in your garden, then? Or just a roundabout way of asking for advice on how to keep a fiddle leaf fig alive?”
A smile, as small as an upward tilt of his mouth, bloomed on his face. “The plants have never listened to me. Neither has Cattiopeia.”
“Cattiopeia?”
“My cat.”
“You have a cat?”
A nod.
“Did Cassian help you name her?”
Azriel shook his head, his tone playful. “The other’s don’t know she exists, nor is Rhysand fond of pets.”
Elain laughed in earnest thinking of Azriel, weapons strapped onto his armor, refilling Cattiopeia’s litter box. She took him in then–his rigid posture, the way his hair was neatly pushed away from his face, the siphons atop his hands that were only a dim blue while he sat in silence. He was the epitome of order, but this new information about him softened edges that she’d already knew to be just a protective layer built over time.
“That’s a shame, then. She sounds like she’d give Amren a run for her money.”
The laugh that escaped him was like the bubbles of champagne, bright and crisp, and she felt it run through her veins in a way that didn’t quite make sense. As if it would remain there, reminding her of what joy sounded like.
He stood, then, his smile a remnant of that beautiful sound she would linger on. “Would you like to meet her?”
She smiled, nodding so she didn’t reveal how much she would enjoy that, indeed. Talking about Azriel’s personal life was one thing, yes, but seeing it? Elain thought she might never feel so honored again.
He offered a hand to her as she rose from the lounge. She took it, the touch warming her in a way the sun could not.
The building was unassuming in nearly every way. Elain didn’t know what she’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been the last address on the end of a little street bordering the ocean.
Azriel set her down gently on the sidewalk, a stone staircase on the side of the two story structure before them both. She turned to face him, hair still windswept in her face from the flight across the city.
“The ocean?”
He only nodded once, not raising his voice above the sounds of the waves only a few yards away. “You’ll see.”
They ascended the staircase together, a key appearing from seemingly nowhere in Azriel’s hand. She looked beyond his broad frame at the beach, a vast expanse of rocky tides that smelled of salt and...jasmine, somehow. Little birds in the distance pecked at the sand, burrowing in to find what lurked beneath. Long, soft grass swayed with the breeze, dancing in sync with the nature of the untouched landscape. “I already do.”
His face was unreadable. Inside, he placed his keys in a dish, appearing so normal it almost made her laugh. Perhaps it was silly to think that apartments in Prythian were just magically assigned an unlocking spell for when their owners arrived, but keys and dishes for keys were just so...practical.
“Cat will be around here somewhere,” He murmured, his hands clasped once more behind him, his stare moving intently to her.
Elain raised a brow. “You call Cattiopeia ‘Cat?’”
He pressed his lips together slightly, a faint raise of his shoulders his only response.
They moved into the main room, his statement from before becoming abundantly clear in the near moonlight outside an entire wall made of glass. The waves crashed on the beach below, dusk settling on the indigo water that spanned the entire view of the massive wall. A couch, large enough to comfortably accommodate an Illyrian winged male–plus a cat–faced it, books littering the coffee table in between.
Elain smiled. The Evening Garden sat worn and marked open in the center.
The apartment was as open as one might assume it would be for a male with enormous wings. A kitchen with an island occupied the other end of the expanse, a small dining table and two chairs only right nearby. It felt like Azriel, like her friend, and made sense that he would choose a place so unrestricted for what he described as his.
The only rooms not visible from the main seating area were the bathing room and his bedroom. Curiosity tempered for a moment, Elain gestured to the window as Azriel continued to gauge her reaction however he could. “This is remarkable, Azriel. Truly.”
“I’m relieved you think so,” he replied, his voice conveying no emotion she could detect, “because I’d like to ask you to stay here while I’m away.” Elain felt a brush of fur on her arm, looking down to see Cattiopeia scaling the back of the couch next to her as a way of greeting.
“Stay here?”
“Yes,” he moved to the house plant near the window, brushing a finger over a leaf that had gone a bit yellow. “Watch over things...keep Cat company...perhaps nurse a plant or two back to health.”
She laughed and offered her hand to Cat, who paced back and forth to rub her arm as closely as possible. The silky white fur of her tail wrapped around it, big blue eyes blinking at her curiously. She’d never had a pet in the human realm, but had always thought it might be like having a little friend–like tending a garden that needed attention and care.
Azriel continued, slowly inching toward her before stopping a few feet away. “Morag in the unit below is moving into town to be closer to her great-grandchildren, so she can’t come by anymore.”
“I see,” Elain said, thinking of how lovely a little life he had here with a neighbor to watch his cat and a view of the edge of the world, open and unobstructed so long as he wanted a reminder of the peace that came with that freedom. “And what do you normally pay Morag for her service?”
Azriel’s half-grin returned. “Chocolates, usually.”
“That could work,” Elain said lightheartedly, “although I must warn you, I’m a novice at house-sitting. You’d be taking a gamble on me.”
His stride toward her rushed the indulgent scent of his body to her sensitive fae nose, a breath catching in her throat at the proximity. He held out a hand as he did at the River House, but holding a new key in it this time. “A bet I’d be a fool not to take, given the chance.”
She wondered if he’d been holding the key for a while–wondered if he’d simply hoped for the right time to ask her this–and noticed the gold of its handle polished to perfection.
“I suppose you’ll need to show me where Cattiopeia’s food bowl is.”
Outside, the waves crashed on the shore–the rhythm unpredictable but steady as the rising moon.
