Sixty Days : Part 1 (Angsty Elriel FanFiction)
Summary: Elain tries to get over Azriel after his "rejection" at Solstice.
Word Count: 1,400
Warnings: n/a
Notes: The first chapter, not sure how many more there will be. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated it. 🖤
AO3
Sixty days.
Two months.
Two months.
Sixty days.
Since Solstice that has been her mantra.
That’s all it would take.
With Greysen it had only taken thirty continual days, give or take. But those days coincided with the world falling apart, not only her world. Her family may say it was more, but she knew it was thirty days of falling asleep crying and waking up hoping her dreams were only dreams but always waking to find them her reality.
To some the mourning of Greysen should take longer than this because he was “more”. Her fiancé, her first everything and supposed to be her last.
But she could almost laugh at how much he was less.
Sixty days.
Two months.
She only had to make it that long and then she would be okay.
That’s what she reminded herself in the mornings, throughout the day, with every breath. When her heart and mind and gut ached.
She could do this.
Feyre had conquered death.
Nesta had looked it in the face and laughed.
Elain had a broken heart.
Who was she to complain?
That was the bitter question she asked herself. When it felt like her mantra wasn’t quite working. When she was threatened to confide in her sisters that she was barely hanging on.
Instead she tried harder. That’s what she always did and it worked, depending on who your asked.
Nesta and Feyre were upset and mad. She was calm, gentle and peaceful.
They were running out of food? She watched neighbors children, even the children across town, to make money to buy seeds. Nothing grew. She tried again, and again, until finally - a sprout. Only after the sprout grew did to find out she had been fooled. Her seeds were only for flowers, not produce. Nothing useful. Feyre made a begrudging comment, Nesta defended her saying she did it on purpose, that she wasn’t an idiot who spend their money on the wrong seeds.
What was she supposed to say after that?
Her father struggled. She tried to help him, care for him, smiled at his compliments, didn’t let on that he only had one compliment for her in many words. Pretty. Never strong like Nesta, never clever like Feyre. Pretty. The one attribute that had very little to do with Elain herself, she was rarely able to bathe and her clothes were constantly tattered. Her looks were something she had very little control over. But it was the only compliment she got so she kept it.
When Feyre was taken and Nesta’s hoped for engagement to Tomas didn’t happen Elain tried again. She wouldn’t settle for pretty, she would be beautiful. She would marry and save her family.
Feyre beat her to it. A few weeks after Feyre left their fortunes turned. It seemed thanks to the beast that took her.
One of the reasons she loved Greysen was because he didn’t need her to try. He just needed her to be. That’s what she thought love was, that was the kind of marriage she was looking for.
Until everything changed.
That change brought many bad things but also many good.
Like Rhysand and Feyre.
Because when she saw them, and their relationship, she began to see how different it was with Greysen.
He wanted her to be. That was it. Just be. Not live, not thrive, not change, never change. Just be.
So her heart only broke for him for thirty days. The mourning after that was not for him, but for the life she had. A life free of the random visions, memories she wasn’t sure were hers. A life where she could choose who she tied herself to, instead of fate telling her.
Those losses she mourned longer then her fiancé, until she saw that her new, changed life offered so much more.
A family that was full a joy, friends who encouraged her, a place where she was provided for, safety and an ability that offered her a sort of strength she had never expected.
Now she did not mourn her expectations or her future.
She only mourned the rejection of a person, one singular person, one singular friendship.
But when she compared him to Greysen, her old life or her old future, he was so much more.
Even when she compared him to all three.
So she told herself she would need sixty days. Double the amount of time it had taken with Greysen.
That was all.
If she could’ve fully avoided him it would have been better. He had been avoiding the house the best he could for months before. She assumed after Solstice he would continue to avoid it.
She would repeat her mantra and she try harder.
She took more on more gardens to fix, she never said no to helping Feyre prepare for the baby, she offered to cook with the twins more. She walked more, cleaned more, did more.
The only things she did less was sleep and smile.
But there wasn’t anyone around to notice.
Not that she blamed them.
She never blamed them.
Rhys and Feyre had so many other things on their mind.
Nesta and Cassian were figuring things out.
She thought Nuala and Cerridwen must suspect something, but they kept to themselves. She wasn’t sure if they were waiting for her to talk or if they were told not to pry.
She tried to not consider that.
Feyre had taken to more naps, which was the perfect excuse for Elain to avoid any meetings a the River Estate. She was helping take care of Feyre, naturally, that’s what she did. She helped.
There was only one time in the sixty days that she saw him. Rain had cut her time working on a garden across town short and she didn’t think Rhys was expecting anyone that day. Thankfully she was halfway up the stairs before the doors to the office opened. She had paused, expecting to greet Rhys, when instead he stepped out.
All it took was seeing the top of his hair for her breath to stop shot. His blue-black hair, thick, slightly curled from the humidity the rain brought. Then his wings, she still found herself in awe of them. He was looking back into the office, as if he was still saying something to Rhys as he was walking out. She knew she should make her dash up the stairs now. Before he saw her, or worse, made eye contact, because then she would have to see how he looked at her.
She had always thought his gaze held such tenderness, especially for her. That this male, who others eyed warily when they were in the same room, had looked at her as if she had hung the moon. She knew better now. When he had said that word, mistake, it was as if she had be shot with a bolt with clarity. His looks were not of tenderness but pity. He wasn’t a unique person who saw her for who she was, that’s only what she wanted to see in his eyes, his words. He saw her the same as the rest of the world, someone to be coddled. She was the fool for picturing things between them differently.
No, she wasn’t ready to see that look in his eyes. It had not been sixty days, only forty, she wasn’t ready to face it. She couldn’t be expected to face it.
But it was as if the moment he opened the door and they breathed the same air he knew and his head whipped around to look for her.
And their eyes met.
And she wasn’t sure when she had last taken a breath.
She thought she saw concern in his eyes, but that wasn’t anything new. Most everyone found something to imagine they should be concerned about for her.
He took a step towards her, not breaking eye contact. His lips parted, as if he was about to say something, possibly her name.
Or perhaps that was a hope that had another twenty days before it faded.
Because then Rhys was saying his name and he blinked.
It was as if the spell was broken. Elain quickly turned away and rushed up up the stairs, to the safety of her room.
As she closed the door she thought she heard the sound her name, whispered like a thought not only considered but acted upon. Later that night, when she finally left her room to descend the stairs for dinner she had convinced herself that another thing she wished for, not a part of her reality.