Whenever Elain said in SF that her favorite dance was the waltz, I couldn’t stop thinking about the idea of her and Azriel sharing one! I think it’s such a sweet idea, the closeness and intimacy to each other would be so romantic and swoon-worthy! I couldn’t be more in love with this art from @azeher_may who created such a beautiful and romantic piece, and did such a beautiful job bringing my ideas to life!
༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.
✮♱✮ quote is from a Court of Silver Flames
✮♱✮ characters are Elain Archeron & Azriel.
༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.
✮♱✮ likes, saves, and shares are always appreciated!
Story line:- Azriel is sitting next to Elain as you sit by the fireplace reading. You’ve been staying with Azriel, Cassian, and Rhysand for the past two months in Velaris. You’re a mortal but Rhysand says you have different abilities that no mortal should be able to have. For example, winnowing or teleporting. Azriel is in love with Elain Archeron even though Elain already has a mate.
Azriel x Reader
The crackling of the fireplace was the only sound that filled the sitting room. It should’ve been comforting—warmth wrapping around me like a favorite blanket—but tonight, it felt oppressive. Maybe it was because of him.
Azriel sat across from me, his form sharp and precise in the soft firelight, every inch of him exuding the kind of quiet power that left me breathless. As usual, his focus wasn’t on me. He was next to her—Elain Archeron. The golden one. The one with a mate.
I closed my book for the third time in as many minutes, unable to focus with the two of them so close. It wasn’t that they were doing anything inappropriate—Azriel wouldn’t, and Elain…well, she didn’t seem to notice his lingering looks. But I noticed. I always noticed.
I hated how it made me feel. A bitterness that lodged itself in my chest, turning my heart into something small and sharp. I wanted to tell myself it didn’t matter, that Azriel could love Elain if he wanted. But it wasn’t just love. It was something deeper. Something quieter.
And that made it worse.
I stole another glance, careful to keep my movements subtle. Elain was speaking to him, her voice soft and melodic. Whatever she said made Azriel smile—not a big, broad grin like Cassian’s, but a small, fleeting thing. I hated that I wanted to be the one to pull that smile from him.
“Y/N.”
The sound of my name snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to find Azriel’s hazel eyes locked onto mine. My heart skipped, the intensity of his gaze startling me.
“You’re frowning,” he said, his voice low.
I blinked, scrambling to compose myself. “I’m not.”
“You are,” he insisted, tilting his head slightly. “Something wrong?”
It wasn’t fair. That look, that tone—like he cared. Like I was more than just a mortal girl who happened to land in their world.
“No,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just tired.”
His gaze lingered, like he didn’t quite believe me, but then Elain spoke again, drawing his attention back to her.
And just like that, I was invisible again.
I didn’t stay in the room much longer. The fire was too warm, the tension too thick, and I needed air. Slipping outside, I welcomed the crisp night breeze that kissed my skin. Velaris was beautiful at night, the stars scattered across the sky like shards of silver.
It had been two months since I arrived here, and I still wasn’t sure if I belonged. Rhysand had insisted I was special, though I wasn’t sure what that meant. Mortals didn’t winnow, didn’t teleport from one place to another in the blink of an eye, but somehow I could. And no one—not even the High Lord himself—could explain why.
I let out a sigh, rubbing my arms as I wandered the gardens. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. Maybe I should’ve stayed in my world, where things were simple and I wasn’t caught up in…this.
The sound of footsteps startled me, and I turned to see Azriel standing a few feet away.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice quiet but steady.
I shook my head, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickened at the sight of him. “Just needed some air.”
He didn’t move closer, but his presence alone was enough to fill the space between us. “You left in a hurry earlier.”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“Interrupt what?”
I glanced at him, biting my lip. “You and Elain.”
Something shifted in his expression—subtle but there. His shadows swirled around him, their movements restless.
“Elain and I…” He trailed off, as if searching for the right words. “It’s not what you think.”
“Really?” I challenged, folding my arms. “Because it looks pretty clear to me.”
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I thought I cared for her. That she could be—” He stopped himself, his jaw tightening. “It doesn’t matter.”
I stepped closer, my chest tightening. “It does matter. You can’t just…pretend it doesn’t.”
Azriel’s gaze snapped to mine, sharp and intense. “Why do you care?”
The question caught me off guard, and I opened my mouth to respond, only to realize I didn’t have an answer I was ready to give.
“Forget it,” I muttered, turning away. “Goodnight, Azriel.”
I didn’t look back as I walked away, but I could feel his gaze burning into my back.
The tension between us only grew after that night. Azriel kept his distance, but there were moments—fleeting glances, accidental touches—that left my heart racing. It was maddening, this dance we were trapped in.
It wasn’t until Cassian suggested sparring that I found an outlet for my frustration. The training yard became my escape, a place where I could channel all the emotions swirling inside me.
“You’re getting better,” Cassian said, blocking my latest strike with a grin. “But you still telegraph your moves.”
I rolled my eyes, adjusting my stance. “Maybe you’re just predictable.”
Cassian laughed, lunging at me with renewed vigor. I barely managed to dodge his attack, stumbling as I tried to regain my footing.
“Careful,” he teased, winking. “Wouldn’t want Azriel to think I broke you.”
My cheeks flushed, and I glared at him. “Shut up, Cassian.”
“Make me,” he challenged, his grin widening.
Before I could respond, a voice cut through the air like a blade.
“Enough.”
Cassian and I both turned to see Azriel standing at the edge of the yard, his expression unreadable but his tone leaving no room for argument.
Cassian raised his hands in mock surrender. “All right, all right. I’ll leave you two alone.” He shot me a knowing look before sauntering off, and I resisted the urge to throw my sword at him.
Azriel approached slowly, his wings tucked tightly against his back. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” I said, brushing the dirt off my clothes.
He didn’t look convinced. “You shouldn’t push yourself so hard.”
“I can handle it,” I snapped, more sharply than I intended.
Azriel’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, I thought he might argue. But then he took a step closer, his voice softening. “I know you can. But you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
My breath caught, his words hitting me harder than they should’ve.
“Why do you care?” I asked, echoing his question from that night in the garden.
Azriel didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stepped even closer, his hazel eyes locking onto mine.
“Because I see you,” he said quietly. “Even when you think no one else does.”
My chest tightened, and I opened my mouth to respond, but he closed the distance between us before I could say anything. His hand cupped my cheek, his touch warm and grounding, and then his lips were on mine.
The kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but it quickly deepened, years of longing and restraint breaking like a dam. His shadows swirled around us, cocooning us in a world that was just ours.
When we finally pulled apart, Azriel rested his forehead against mine, his breath warm against my skin.
“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he whispered. “I was afraid.”
I smiled, my hands tangling in the fabric of his shirt. “You don’t have to be afraid anymore.”
For the first time since arriving in Velaris, I felt like I was exactly where I was meant to be.
Over the next few weeks, everything shifted. Azriel and I found a rhythm, a quiet understanding that didn’t need words. He still had his shadows, his secrets, but he let me in, piece by piece.
Elain…she seemed to understand, too. There was no bitterness, no resentment—only a quiet acceptance that made me respect her even more.
As for me, I finally started to feel like I belonged. Rhysand’s court wasn’t just a place; it was a family, one I was proud to be part of.
@oristian just received an anon that read the following:
The difference between Elriels, Eluciens, and Gwynriels is that Elriels actually like the characters. We like canon Azriel and Elain and don’t need to assign them other characters’ characteristics or rewrite them. We appreciate the way they have been presented, flaws and all. We are invested in their story thanks to canon, not despite it.
Canon Elain does not wear Illyrian leathers.
Canon Elain does not wear a necklace that she returned to Az therefore unless it's fanart depicting Solstice night and only Solstice night, it's not canon.
Canon Elain does not enjoy wielding a dagger.
Canon Elain does not have tattoos.
Canon Az does not train Elain or take her on spy missions. He didn't even want her searching for the Trove. Canon Az got reprimanded by Amren for not believing in Elain.
Canon Az's shadows do not play with Elain, by his own admission in HIS POV they tend to disappear around her.
Canon Az has not thought of a future with Elain beyond his sexual fantasies.
Canon Elain is NOT "Velaris's Princess" which is a wild thing to say since Velaris already has a QUEEN in Feyre.
Canon Elain would not be fine with Az's torture of defenseless people.
Canon Elain likes sunshine and flowers and is bothered by cruelty.
Canon Elain, despite her proclamation that she's part of the NC and would do what is necessary has the life sucked out of her while wearing NC black.
Canon Elain is different from her sisters, as stated in the books and interviews from the author herself.
Canon Elain is NOT described as being Illyrian at heart the way Nesta was.
Canon Elain, despite Nesta's belief that Elain is doing just fine with her friend and hobbies (something Nesta can only assume from afar considering canon Nesta avoided Elain for a year), confirmed that she has trauma that nobody seems to acknowledge.
Canon Az is connected to the Illyrians and the Valkyrie.
Canon Elain is not.
Canon Elain is connected to Vassa and Koschei through her visions.
Canon Az is not connected to either.
Canon Az did not acknowledge the trauma he heard Elain speak of.
Canon Elain did not acknowledge Az's struggles though she's apparently well aware of how Az was bothered by the scent of her bond.
Canon Az avoided Elain for nearly a year though she never asked him to stay away, though he knew she was fighting with Nesta, though he knew she was mourning the loss of her father.
Canon Az showed yearning for Mor while Elain sat in the room with him.
Canon Az felt something spark in his chest at the thought of another female's happiness.
Canon Az never gave his dagger to another female outside of Elain yet made sure Bryce knew what NESTA did with it during the war.
The ONLY thing that Elucien's and Gwynriels fail to adhere to at this point in time in terms of these characters is who their endgame person will be.
It seems we are the only ones who have a fairly good read on their behaviors, who they are, what's important to them, where they would thrive based on how they've been described and who they would best be suited to.
These are books and just because Elain said, "I'm part of this court and will do what is necessary" it doesn't in fact mean that Elain will forevermore be happiest in the NC and has to live there for the remainder of her immortal life simply because of a statement she made in a book prior to her own POV, a statement she made while still processing her trauma. As readers of books, we are fully aware that many times what a character states while processing trauma is not a true reflection of how they feel.
Not when the author placed that single comment on the floor then continued to build onto another pile of bricks next to it.
One brick being Elain needing sunshine.
One brick being "but Elain wearing black, no matter how much she claimed to be part of this court....it sucked the life from her."
One brick being Elain missing the flowers in winter.
One brick being that the NC doesn't turn to Elain for help.
One brick being that we're told Elain might be acting a certain way so as not to disappoint her sisters.
One brick being that Elain loses her color in winter.
One brick that the rose necklace given to Elain needs light in order for it's true depth to become visible.
One brick being that Elain is a rose bloom in a mud field filled with trampling horses while Nesta in that same Illyrian camp was a newly forged sword.
One brick being that Elain's scent is "a promise of Spring".
One brick being that "but the spring court had been made for someone like her."
One brick being that the author said Elain took she and Lucien by surprise.
One brick being the author telling us that Elain and Lucien (not Az) are both happiest in nature.
Just because Elain doesn't seem to want Lucien right now doesn't mean that won't change in the next book. Just like who Aelin wanted changed drastically over the course of multiple books. As did Chaol, as did Feyre, as did Nesta (since she didn't seem to want Cassian at different points throughout the series) as did Eva, as did Juliette, as did Elizabeth, as did Claire, as did Violet, as did Sophie, as did Francesca, as did Tessa, as did Harry, as did Katniss (and so on).
Only paying attention to the direct quotes from a character or their behavior while dealing with trauma, thinking they know everything they need to know about them before they've even had a POV doesn't prove they know them better. It simply means they're choosing to ignore that Sarah is the kind of author who leaves crumbs for readers, who often writes her FMC actually wanting the thing that she insists she does not, who often writes her FMC avoiding her destiny before finally embracing it.
E/riels don't like canon Elain or Az more than Eluciens and Gwynriels. They like a one dimensional version of the characters where everything said and done could not have any deeper meaning.
"Az wants to eat out Elain and Elain wants to kiss Az which means they want to be together forever!".
Versus:
"Az and Elain wanted to hook up but it's clear they were both in a bad place and probably not in the right headspace, especially as neither was first willing to discuss the struggles they're both having".
This narrative that we don't like canon Elain, Az, or Gwyn is tiresome. The only thing we don't like is shipping Elain with a guy who the author has clearly written been as someone who, despite his and her willingness to hook up months ago on their timeline, wasn't there for her when she was put into the cauldron, wasn't there for her when she was suffering from severe depression (even drawing straws so he didn't have to stay with her), who never offered her a kind word about the death of her father, who avoided HER for an entire year because he couldn't handle a bond that will always exist, who looked at another female with heat and yearning while she sat in the room with them, who never bothered to check on her after any of her fights with Nesta, who couldn't admit to his best friend that he had any real feelings for her and that he wasn't just looking to get laid, and who hadn't thought of a future with her beyond his sexual fantasies.
Instead of calling for the Blood Duel, Lucien should use the power of psychological warfare and borrow Gwyn's priestess robes from time to time just to walk around Velaris and confuse the shit out of Azriel. This fella would think he's going crazy.
The good news was that while some of Windhaven’s females deemed Elain a witch… others came out to see what all the fuss was about. They lingered near the edge of the terrace at first, arms crossed and brows furrowed, but curiosity pulled them closer. Whispers drifted through the cold mountain air like wind through pine, and Elain let it wash over her without flinching.
She had quickly realized the truth: healing the rot entirely through magic would be both exhausting and dangerous. Not just for her body, but for the secret she still guarded. If word reached Feyre or Rhysand of what kind of power she wielded, the questions would come. The pressure. The scrutiny. She wasn’t ready for that.
So, she found another way. Practical. Quiet. Effective.
Elain stood, brushing soil from her palms, and turned to Bretha and Tash. “Will you take me to the apothecary?” she asked gently. “I think I know how to make a mixture that can treat the rot."
Bretha raised an eyebrow, still skeptical, but nodded. “If you’re serious about fixing this, you’d better hope I’ve still got dried wormroot in stock.”
Emerie had to return to her store, but before she left, she gave Elain a look filled with something like pride, and maybe a little warning. You’re doing it. But be careful.
By the time Elain reached the apothecary, there were five more females trailing behind her, and by the time they began working outside to mix the ingredients she’d selected—dried nettle, wormroot, ash bark, and vinegar steeped with fennel—there were nearly a dozen.
Just as she’d hoped. The chatter began slowly at first. Half-hearted comments about the weather, the poor quality of this year’s milk, complaints about the state of the village washhouse. But then Tash said something about a male disappearing for three days. And another woman mentioned strange meetings after sunset near the upper ridge.
Elain listened.
She moved quietly through the group, kneeling to guide one female’s stirring, pausing to answer questions, always smiling, always watching. She let them underestimate her. Let them think she was only here for the plants.
And they talked. Gods, did they talk.
She felt Azriel’s shadows before she saw them—curling along the edges of her boots, coiling around her calf like a tether. Protective. Possessive. Probably worried. She reached down and brushed them away gently, sending a subtle pulse of reassurance along the tether.
I’m fine. I’ve got this.
The shadows withdrew, reluctantly.
For the next three hours, Elain worked beside the females of Windhaven, teaching them how to crush and layer the herbs into a thick, pungent paste to spread across the soil. Some wrinkled their noses. Others laughed. But they listened.
By the time the sun was mid day, the rot plots had been treated, the females were gathered with fresh instructions for continued mixing, and Elain had enough whispered confessions and careful observations to fill several pages of her journal.
It was information that would’ve taken Cassian months to get. And Elain? She’d gotten it with a smile, a hand in the dirt, and her crown braid laced with ivy.
