It’s interesting that during the first Solstice, it was Mor, and no one else, who found Elain’s gift for Azriel.
There was a tiny box left on the table by the window--a box that Mor lifted, squinted at the name tag, and said, “Az, this one’s for you.’
(ACOFAS)
A modest, blink-and-you’ll-miss-it box. Much like the person who put it there.
The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present.
(ACOFAS)
Much like he had extended his scarred hand to a traumatised, scared girl, and she took it and whispered, ‘beautiful’.
Mor, with whom Azriel has been infatuated for half a millennia is finally releasing him from his thrall. She is stepping aside. She is the one who takes Elain’s gift and gives it to him--places it in his hand, as if she is placing Elain’s hand in his.
“Az, this one is for you’.
That’s Mor’s ‘blessing’. She knows what Azriel wants and it’s not her anymore.
Az, this one is for you.
Elain is for him.
Elain is the gift that he wants in his scarred hands.
Mor becomes the conduit between the two of them, knowing that the time has come, and Azriel is going to move on from her. The strongest romantic tether that Azriel had in his life has been severed and Mor is gladly bringing Azriel and Elain together.
Happy 1st of December!! It’s officially socially acceptable to start celebrating Christmas, never mind that I’ve had all my decorations up since mid-Nov.
Enjoy a fluffy little Elriel + kids fic to celebrate the start of the festive season! 🥂☃️💙❄️🎄
Elriel. Fluff. 1k words. Modern AU.
Azriel wrestled with the organised containers Elain stored all the Christmas decorations in, trying to avoid the cobwebs in the garage. He’d already pulled out nine large, labelled containers, but she had insisted he bring all twelve of them up to the house so she could settle on the colour scheme for this year.
Yanking out yet another box, dust fell from the top of it, settling in his hair and onto his eyelashes, causing him to shake his head like a dog, holding back the impulse to sneeze.
“Dad, mama said not to forget the box with the lights in it!” His six-year-old son was beyond excited, helping him lug boxes up to the house as Azriel pulled them all out of their various hiding places.
Pulling the final two out of the high shelving units, he handed the lightest of them to Benedict and grabbed the other three, running a hand through his dusty hair once more, the feeling of something crawling down his neck now making the hairs at his nape stand on end.
“Yep, got ‘em all kiddo. Let’s go.”
Entering the house through the back sliding door, Elain and Rue looked up from the cookies they were decorating, his daughter sitting on the wide kitchen island, her legs tucked beneath her as she helped her mum pipe icing onto the star and tree shaped biscuits.
Her hazel eyes snapped up as she heard her father walk into the house, a squeal peeling from her little chest as she all but leaped onto his back as he passed by the kitchen holding the last of the Christmas boxes.
Elain just laughed, used to Rue’s spirited nature, not even blinking when her daughter threw herself off the bench, trusting Azriel would catch her every time.
“I LOVE Christmas daddy!” she exclaimed excitedly.
Rue had latched herself onto her father’s back, her strong little arms wrapped securely around his neck. Her sticky fingers smeared green icing onto the skin below his jaw as she dangled down his back like a baby koala clutching onto its mother.
Chuckling at his mischievous daughter, Azriel crouched, dropping the boxes he still held whilst allowing Rue’s socked feet to touch the floor, the four-year-old bounding off to open boxes as soon as he’d let her down.
Elain was just placing the final touches on a star shaped cookie when she strolled over to Azriel, the shortbread treat held between her slender fingers.
“All twelve containers?” she asked, a content smile lighting up her face as she brought the cookie up to her husband’s lips.
“All twelve containers,” he confirmed, before craning his neck and taking almost the entire biscuit into his mouth. He chewed, moaning at the taste as his eyes bore into his wife’s, his hazel irises dilating as she looked back up at him, her teeth sinking deliciously into her full bottom lip.
Elain licked the remaining frosting off her own fingers, the heat from his gaze reflected back in her own eyes. Reaching up on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his in a sweet, chaste kiss, tasting the sugar from the treats she’s baked on each other.
Behind them, they could hear boxes being ripped open as their children excitedly pulled out all manner of ornaments and decorations, when Rue gasped.
Breaking their kiss, Azriel and Elain swivelled toward the sound of their daughter’s soft exclamation. Held in her little hands was a large mass of red, velvet cloth with white faux fur lining the cuffs and waist band.
“Daddy!” Rue squealed. “Why are Santa’s pants here?”
His daughter had found the Santa costume the family used on Christmas Eve when they all got together. Cassian was usually tasked with sneaking off after dinner to dress up and come in with a sack full of presents.
Rue looked scandalised; her hazel eyes blown wide with astonishment. Even Benedict looked on quietly, his warm brown eyes flicking questioningly from his mother, then his father, then back to the bright red pants.
Azriel scrambled, wracking his brain for an excuse. The last thing he ever wanted to do was ruin his children’s innocent sense of magic. Benedict and Rue deserved a sweet, wonderful life. So did Elain. Heaven knows he had never been granted the same luxury, and he always made a conscious effort to do everything in his power to be the father his own had never been for him. His entire life revolved around Elain and their children’s happiness. Besides, he loved that they both believed in Santa, and he wasn’t ready for their little dreams to be crushed.
“Umm, well Rue,” Azriel stammered, running a nervous hand through his hair as he bought himself time to make up an excuse. “We have Santa’s pants because… mama does his dry cleaning.”
He took a stab in the dark, holding his breath for their reaction.
Luckily, his kids took the bait, their faces transforming from looks of concern and confusion to impressed admiration.
“Really? Wow,” Rue breathed, her eyes going wide with wonder.
Benedict looked at his mother with the same reverence as Rue did, his gentle constitution leaving him in awe of Elain at the slightest thing.
“Cool!”
Elain just chuckled, a smile lifting the corners of her mouth as she shot a look at Azriel to say Santa’s dry cleaning?! That’s the best you could come up with?
Azriel just shrugged, relieved he had managed to say something to save their innocence for a little while longer.
Elain, squeezing Azriel’s bicep in understanding, added, “Oh absolutely, Santa has been trusting me with his laundry for years!”
She made sure the serious look on her face left no room for further questioning from her children’s curious minds.
“Wow…” Rue repeated, now looking at the pants in her hands with wide eyes, holding them up as far as her little arms could stretch them. “Santa’s pants…”
“I can’t wait to tell Nyx!” Benedict breathed, his brown eyes alight with wonder.
Stifling a chuckle behind her hand, Elain turned back to the kitchen to finish off decorating the cookies. Azriel shot her a self-satisfied smirk, his raven hair falling into his eyes before he turned to the box of Christmas lights to get started on the decorations.
@impossiblescissorspeachpaper my love, thank you so much for your friendship this past year.
Getting to know you has been an absolute joy. I wish you and your fam an amazing holiday season, and a happy and healthy 2023.
The following is just a little bit of silly, solsticey fluff. I couldn't remember whether you liked reading about kids or not, but this whole fic was written around Elain's last line haha.
I know, I know. Fair warning... it's terrible.
You'll see why. 🤣
Secret Santa out. ✌🏻
🎄❤️🎄❤️🎄
Read it on AO3 instead
1200 words
Modern AU
"Shadow" the cat was stolen shamelessly from @tswaney17's magnificent Across the Hallway fic. Thanks, Tay!
Rosa Archeron knew very well that she should be tucked up in bed—had, in fact, been there only five short minutes ago—but she needed to gather information for her father, to prove she could be the world's youngest spy. If she learnt the identity of Father Solstice, or at least what he looked like (something even her detective father hadn't been able to tell her), then she could brag at dinner tomorrow night and shut her cousin Nyx up for good.
Nyx was almost ten and insufferable with it. Who cared about being "big" when it meant one lost the best hiding spots? She didn't know why he was so happy about it.
Sleep could wait, some might say. Or maybe even there ain't no rest for the wicked, if she knew such a phrase at seven years old.
So Rosa had very quietly crawled out of bed, sneaked across the room she shared with her twin brother, Andy, while avoiding the squeaky floorboard that would alert her too-observant parents to her mission (because she may only be seven years old, but she wasn't born yesterday, thank you very much), and out the door onto the landing at the top of the stairs.
Phase one, complete.
Slowly crouching, before getting onto her belly, she poked her nose through the railings of the bannister and put the old spyglass she'd swiped from her ma's travel bag to her face.
Surveying the scene was very important, she knew. She couldn't just trust that her parents had gone to sleep yet. She and her brother had learnt that particular lesson when they were only five.
Phase two was going to be the hardest, because there was more than one squeaky step to this staircase at Rosehall, but if she made it all the way downstairs and into the back hallway, she could take the rear corridor to bypass her parents' bedroom door, making it to the lounge room, and getting through phase three undetected.
If all went to plan.
Her ma had better hearing than most people she knew, and her dad was just plain sneaky. Some days it seemed like he could slip into the shadows.
Taking a (quiet) deep breath, she worked up the courage to turn around and start descending the stairs backwards, on her hands and feet, avoiding steps number four and seven to perfection. Reaching the bottom without any noises she could hear, and pleased with herself, a small smile curved her mouth at one side.
Phase two was over; phase three should be much easier, especially since her eyes had, by now, adjusted to the dark.
Tip toeing across the flagstone floor to the far corner as silently as their black cat, Shadow, would have done, Rosa used the spyglass once more to check around the corner. Her ma and dad didn't sleep on this corridor, but one could really never be too careful, especially when one was up to mischief.
The coast being all clear, she kept up her tip toeing until she made it into the lounge room and, sliding behind the couch, breathed a sigh of relief.
Phase three? Tick. Now for phase four (hide) and phase five (stay awake until Father Solstice visited to deliver presents, making sure to get a good look at his face). She even had made sure not to drink much this evening, so she wouldn't have to run to the toilet and miss him. That would be awful.
Sitting for a minute, collecting her thoughts, Rosa decided that her best bet was still to hide under the sideboard along the west wall. Ideally she'd have got into her ma's camphorwood chest and ever-so-slightly propped the lid open with a folded bit of linen from inside, but it was too heavy to open by herself, and anyway, the hinges were too noisy.
The sideboard was still a good option; low enough that most people would miss her, especially in the dark, but she'd still have a clear view of anyone who came down the chimney, which was really the whole point of her mission.
Stifling a yawn, she crept out from behind the couch, grabbing her favourite solstice blanket as she went by, and crawled under the wooden cabinet in which her parents kept their good china. She loved watching as they got everything out for dinner parties, but she was still too young to be allowed the key herself.
Maybe Nyx was right; there would be at least some good from growing up.
After a little while, Rosa started to fiddle. Waiting was boring, after all, and she wished she was brave enough to get back out and swipe one of the gingerbread cookies that she and Andy had helped their ma make that morning, but the plate was for Father Solstice, and she didn't want to end up on the naughty list.
A few times she thought she saw some movement by the doorway, but maybe that was just her tired eyes playing tricks on her. Or the cat.
As the clock struck midnight she could have sworn she heard bells and footsteps, but nothing came of it.
Shadow found her in her hiding spot just before one o'clock, and promptly curled up beside her, purring happily.
Yawning some more, Rosa stretched her legs, careful to avoid knocking Shadow, and then brought them back under cover of the sideboard. Maybe she should have woken Andy up to help her out. She'd wanted to do this by herself, but it would be much easier to stay awake with her brother by her side. Louder, too, she supposed.
No, she decided as her eyes blinked closed for a little rest—just a quick one. She'd made the right choice in working alone tonight.
Thinking of the food that awaited her the next day kept her occupied for a little while, and then presents after that, but as it neared two o'clock she was needing to rest her eyes for longer and longer.
Just one more rest, then he'll come, Rosa thought. Just one—
***
At three o'clock on Solstice morning, Elain woke up to Azriel's gentle stroke of her hair and grinned.
"Has she fallen asleep yet?" She whispered.
"Finally," was his answer. "I just got her back to bed, she didn't even stir."
"It was a good effort on her behalf," Elain admitted. "She stayed awake far longer than I gave her credit for."
Azriel chuckled softly. "True, I'll give her that. The camera behind the elf on the shelf was a stroke of genius, though. And it helped that the cat was sticking out from under the sideboard, belly up and snoring."
Elain relaxed back into the pillows, content. "So, did Father Solstice get the extra presents out, and eat a cookie or two?"
"Three, in fact. Maybe next year we go with chocolate fudge or shortbread instead of ginger, though?" He murmured as he got back into bed.
Elain grimaced. "I'm sorry, the kids were insisting on gingerbread."
"That's alright." Az rolled over and looked at her, suddenly wicked. "You can make it up to me any time, you know."
"Come here then, Daddy Solstice."
Azriel only snorted as he pulled her to his chest.
“Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we …” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”
“No,” I said, and meant it. Az seemed to loose a sigh of relief. Seemed to, since all but a breath of air passed from his lips. “I don’t think Nesta gives a shit, and I don’t think Elain expects to receive anything from us. I’d leave the sisters to exchange presents amongst themselves.” Az nodded distantly.”
“He offered her a smile back. "I wasn't sure if I should give you your present." He left the rest unspoken.” [...]
“It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.
“It's beautiful," she whispered, lifting it from the box.”
+
"Silence again. Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.
I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.”
“He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse. "No wonder you didn't want me to open it in front of everyone."
+
“Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.”
“But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there. Or attempted to sleep there. ”
+
“Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”
“Azriel unwrapped the box, glancing at the card that merely said, You might find these useful at the House these days, and then opened the lid. Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you..."
+
“The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present. Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.”
Azriel’s face didn’t so much as shift at the words. Not even a smile as he opened the present and revealed—”
“Az tried not to look at his scarred fingers as they took the gift. She hadn't bought her mate a present.”
Please don't screenshot or share this post without credit.
Disclaimer: this parallel isn't necessarily much, if anything at all, but it potentially could be; my apologies if someone else has discussed this.
Many people in the ACOTAR fandom have noted the way in which the Solstice interactions between Azriel and Rhys act as foils for each other - scenes that can be compared and contrasted - 12 months apart. The obvious difference is the change from friendly to aggressive behaviour, which I'll cover for the sake of a complete discussion - not to mention that Rhys seemed to pick up on something going on between Azriel and Elain in ACOFAS, then played dumb in ACOSF - but I think I've noticed something else, which extends beyond Rhys and Azriel’s heated meeting in Azriel’s bonus chapter to include his rendezvous with Elain... a subtle variation on Rosehall.
ACOFAS Solstice
Rhys: was magnanimous (generous or forgiving), smiling, and speaking to Azriel as a brother. Azriel even called him 'generous.'
Azriel: likewise, he gave Rhys one of his own rare smiles, and was open with his Solstice plans, too.
Rosehall: was mentioned - the fandom seems to agree that this is where Azriel’s mother lives, but we could be wrong.
Shopping: Azriel still needed to do some shopping (again, we assume to buy a solstice gift for his mother, and anyone else whom he may have met at Rosehall when he visited). As far as we know, Az didn’t buy Elain a gift in ACOFAS... but did he want to? He did ask Rhys whether he should.
ACOSF Solstice
Rhys: in stark contrast to the year before, Rhys was speaking to Azriel as his High Lord (not his brother), and being neither generous nor forgiving; his power was rippling through the room, intending to intimidate. Instead of smiling, his face - and his snarls - clearly demonstrated his fury.
Azriel: following Rhys' lead, Azriel donned a frozen mask and shut down, giving away neither his plans, nor his emotions. Could he have prevented himself from thinking of them at the time, in case he thought too loudly in the presence of a daemati?
Rose + hall: instead of mentioning his (fandom-hypothesised) mother at 'Rosehall,' Azriel gave Elain a rose necklace while they stood in the hall, 'with only the Mother' to see them.
Shopping: in a reversal of last year, Azriel meant to return a gift he had bought for Elain, rather than make a new purchase.
So, there's obviously nothing huge here, but it's a sneaky, new little Elriel 'Rosehall'/'rose' + 'hall' parallel or (potential) hint, nonetheless.
For @hacawijo - thank you, my lovely, for being such a gem of a person; you deserve the world.
Merry Christmas, you filthy Elriel!
That goes out to the entire Elriel fam, btw. All my love to each and every one of you - there are too many to tag!
❤🎄❤🎄❤🎄❤🎄❤🎄❤
Thank you @wingedblooms for all your help!
Read it on AO3, if you'd prefer.
Word count: 6891
TW: mild adult content.
Disclaimer: this is a festive Elriel one shot, set at the Winter Solstice a year after the events of ACOSF. Characters and places belong to SJM.
The sun was slowly setting in the sky, the calming colours of a winter dusk infinitely brightened by the snow falling in gently cascading waves of white, silently blanketing the world around her with the hope of a fresh start to come, as Elain Archeron finally reached the kitchen door at the back of the townhouse.
Scuffing the soles of her thickly lined boots against the sturdy doormat, both of those items luxuries she could only have dreamed of a few short years ago, she wrestled with the parcel in her arms, finally freeing a callused hand from her mitten to activate the door's unlocking spell, which was keyed to her once more after her move back to Feyre and Rhys' old home.
It had well and truly been time for her to gain a modicum of independence, yet, thanks to Koschei the Deathless' looming threat, she had had to be reasonable with her choice of abode. The townhouse provided her with her much wanted privacy, but came with protective spells cast by the High Lord of the Night Court himself; it also minimised the potential risk to her neighbours, as they shared no corridors or stairwells with a death god's potential target.
Elain and her family weren't quite sure how Koschei had discovered that she was a Seer, as, for all she and Lucien had a slightly awkward relationship after they had declined their mating bond, she didn't think he would ever betray her like that, but Beron had… let slip the fact that it was information that had been circulating on the Continent, so here she was, once again at risk of being held hostage, or worse. Still, she insisted on paying rent, and refused the offer of any help outside Nuala or Cerridwen running occasional perimeter checks. That was different, though. They were her friends, and she would have done the same and more for them if the situation was reversed.
Sighing as she shoved her way in through the door--and oh, if only her lady mother could see her acting in such an undignified way, she may have had a conniption and passed away all over again!-- Elain put the brown paper package on the stone bench and closed the door behind her.
Azriel’s gift almost hadn't made it in time. At first, after their disastrous encounter last winter solstice, and the heart-wrenchingly awkward indifference that had followed for the year after, she had thought she'd decided against buying him a gift this year. But two months ago, as Elain was sitting and having tea with Nesta, Feyre, and little Nyx at the House of Wind, and she heard her sisters discussing the gifts they had planned for their respective mates, something in her had snapped, and she made up her mind to not let her mistake ruin the first true friendship she had ever made for herself. She needed to heal whatever rift had come between them.
So, knowing she was incredibly short on time, Elain had sent away for a yarn made from the wool of a sheep that thrived in the Winter Court, paid for the outrageous express delivery, and spent her evenings knitting Azriel an undershirt to keep him warm on missions involving wind and ice and snow. She knew he could use his siphons to create a shield, but she would much, much rather he save that magic for protecting himself in case of emergencies. Weaving her wishes and love for him into every stitch, Elain had finally made a black sweater that, though it was lightweight, veritably oozed with softness and warmth and comfort.
But that had only been the first part of her plan. It had taken her longer to knit the undershirt than she had anticipated--a fair few rows of miscounted stitches or uneven tension had had to be fixed--but Elain had delivered her creation to one of the weavers in town who specialised in charming clothes, with instruction to imbue the piece with spells for subtlety, warmth and protection.
Interestingly, though, when Elain had arrived to finally collect the finished item not an hour before, complete with the weaver-witch's profuse apologies for the delay, she had received both a strange look and a comment that no spells would take, except for a very basic stitched rune around the collar and cuffs to help prevent fraying, as the garment already contained its own innate, powerful magic.
Elain had been floored, but quickly thought to mumble something about the wool being specially ordered from the Winter Court, before she had paid the female, thrown her a bright smile and headed back out into the steadily accumulating snow. It had been a long morning of cooking and baking with the twins, a cold march from the river estate to the weaver's shop in Velaris, and the walk home had only served to increase her exhaustion.
Now, as she removed her cloak and hung it in the mud room off the kitchen, she stared at Azriel’s gift with apprehension. Over summer, when discussing how she had been progressing with mastering her Sight, Amren had mentioned her powers, with an 'S'. As in plural. At the time, Elain had assumed it was a slip of the tongue, but…
Is this what she had meant? Was there something else, some otherworldly power, slumbering away below her reborn flesh? She did occasionally feel something, especially when she was angry, but it had frightened her, so she had instead worked to control what little temper she had.
The clock chiming three o'clock in the afternoon roused her from her reverie, reminding her that she needed to wash and dress for her family's solstice gathering this evening, and give Feyre’s birthday cake one final check. Rubbing her temples--when had she started doing that, she wondered--Elain climbed the stairs to her room.
***
Freshly washed and dressed in a velvet gown of such a deep cobalt that it appeared to be black, until the light hit it just so, and carrying her overnight bag--as the chances that no one would be in any shape to fly or winnow her home later on tonight were high--Elain entered the kitchen to see a shadow lazily curling around the parcel she'd left unattended on bench, and stopped short as her heart gave a beat so violent that she thought it might very well have been its last.
She knew that shadow, just like she knew Azriel couldn't be trusted around wrapped gifts, and she suspected why it had come.
Nuala and Cerridwen had planned for whoever of the two was free to arrive soon, in order to help her transport Feyre’s birthday cake to the river house--it was another three-tiered work of art, if she did say so herself--but apparently Azriel had decided to help out this year, because that shadow was decidedly his. She could always tell.
Hurrying to stuff Azriel’s (luckily) wrapped sweater into a blue and silver gift box with a note already inside, she had put the lid on just as she heard a knock at the backdoor. Rubbing slightly sweaty hands on the tea towel hanging from the hook by the stove, Elain braced herself for who she knew would be on the other side as she walked across the flagstone floor of the townhouse's cozy kitchen to open the door.
And there he was. She hadn't seen him for months.
Dressed in an immaculately tailored overcoat and trousers in a black so deep it seemed to devour the light streaming out past her, leather boots polished to a shine and his hair falling softly over his forehead in a manner that just begged her to run her hands through it so she could see all of his beautiful face, his wings shifted noiselessly as he waited to be invited inside. Belatedly meeting his hazel eyes, Elain noticed the pink on his cheeks and realised she was staring; kicking herself internally--she had wanted to repair their friendship, not make her hopeless feelings any more uncomfortably obvious than they already were--she gave him a gentle smile as she stepped aside to let him in.
Heading into the cupboard that was spelled to keep things cool, Elain took a few seconds to calm herself--letting the cold into her veins, to cool herself down--as she collected Feyre’s already boxed cake with a quick peek to ensure it was still standing upright, and then carefully carried it the short distance to the work table in the centre of the room.
Azriel had been staring at the box, a shadow quickly disappearing from view under the table as she returned to the kitchen's main room. Raising an elegantly arched eyebrow, Elain pointedly looked at him, then placed the cake box onto the table.
"Spymasters are supposed to be trustworthy, no?"
Clearing his throat, Azriel chuckled. "When unidentified boxes are sitting in the middle of the room just begging to be inspected, I would argue that it's my job to make sure all is well."
Elain scoffed as she ducked to slip on her heels, then shrugged into her warmest cloak, proclaiming, "It's solstice, and the box is clearly a gift for someone that didn't make it into Rhys' hiding spot. Should a spymaster not have better excuses up his sleeves, ones that play into context?"
Once again, if only her mother could see her now, speaking so boldly in front of a man--a male--who outranked her in almost every way. The thought made her smile.
Azriel stilled a little, wings and shadows settling as he held her eyes while bowing deeply, before straightening once more.
"I do apologise, my lady. Perhaps you would do me the honour of giving me your professional advice on the matter as I convey you to the party? Only it's already busy there, and all the food you helped to prepare will be gone if we're not quick. Cassian and Mor can't help themselves."
Elain grinned. From anyone else, a joke about her 'professional opinion' would have rankled, even if it was kindly meant, but Azriel had always seen her, and listened to everything she had to say. Never judged her, or given her words one jot less respect than he did his High Lord and Lady. Even if he had made it clear in the last year, that she could never dream to have him as a lover, the way they had immediately fallen back into their easy friendship tonight gave her hope that all was not lost, for she would rather have him as her dear friend than not at all.
Placing the gift box in her overnight bag, and shooting Azriel another look, Elain slung the bag over her shoulder before he could offer to carry it for her, careful to miss her long hair, and approached the cake box once more, contemplating.
"How do we do this? I've never carried a giant cake across the city through the shadows before."
Grinning, Az's eyes danced as he looked from the box to Elain. "If you'll allow my shadows the responsibility, they can keep it safe as we fly. Unless you'd rather shadow walk, but the risk of us dropping it is much higher than them."
Elain’s mouth dried in an instant, and the next words out sounded like she'd only just regained her voice after a long illness.
"Fly? Whatever--" she coughed. "Whatever is easiest."
She knew her cheeks were flaming. Shamefully.
Azriel made no movement, uttered no sound, but the air hummed regardless, and the next second she watched as his shadows surrounded the cake box, engulfing it as it melted away into nothingness. Elain's eyes couldn't help but widen at the magical display, and, if she didn't know better, she would have said that Az stood just a bit taller--held his wings a wee bit higher--in response.
He held his arm out for her, manners as polished as any lordling she had known growing up (but shoulders that were much, much broader, she couldn't help but notice). Elain looked up at Azriel, knowing her face was an open book, especially to him, but unable to do much about it.
Another smile softly bloomed on his face. "Shall we?"
Steeling herself for the exquisite pain that was being held by Azriel, when she knew she couldn't hold him back without giving herself away--even if she could manage her face, her heart was racing as if she had sprinted from the Sidra to the townhouse sometime in the last minute--Elain silently looped her arm through his, shivering as he covered her hand with his, and followed him through the door.
The solid oak door closed and locked behind them, and she stood there, mutely, just staring at it as she willed her mind to calm down.
Clearing his throat once more, Azriel beckoned to her with his arms, hinting at what Elain had been both dreading, and relishing the thought, of in equal measure.
"May I?"
Ever the gentle-fae, Azriel still waited, never assuming, until she tore her eyes away from the door and looked at him once more.
"Oh, yes. Sorry." Elain gave him a guilty smile. "I've been a little distracted lately, don't mind me."
Gathering her into his arms as carefully as he would Nyx, Azriel cradled her to his chest as he walked clear of the patio furniture, giving his wings ample space for take off. A cobalt shield flared brightly around them before it faded into a blue glimmer of light, and the chill breeze faded away. A mighty crack and boom echoed around them, and then they were in the air, climbing high above the chimney tops, until Azriel’s wings angled to catch the air current that had them sailing over Velaris as dusk became night.
Softly--so softly she almost didn't hear it--he spoke. "After my behaviour last solstice, I know I have no right to say so, but… if you ever want or need to talk, please know I will always make time for you."
Shocked, Elain could only stare at the scene far below them, a never-ending tapestry of winter wonder, her beloved city and home, as she digested what he had just said. Eventually, and oh so carefully, she responded, weighing every word.
"I know you told me not to apologise, but Azriel, I really am sorry. I put you in that position, I read you wrong, and I am so sorry to have lost our friendship this year." Try as she might, her heart couldn't be calmed as she forced herself to continue, for it needed to be said. "You mean the world to me, and I would much rather have only this, than nothing at all."
There. Her cards were all on the proverbial table. She had become adept at secret keeping over the course of her life, but she never wanted anything to cloud her relationship with him, whatever it may be, ever again.
Azriel gave the ground around them a cursory glance before he angled his head sharply, to look her in the eyes. It was likely just the cold, but she could have sworn there was a distinctive shine to them that she hadn't seen before.
In the end, all he did was close his eyes and give her a brief, tight squeeze, dipping his chin to kiss the top of her hair as he flew on.
Elain managed not to cry with relief. A solstice feat in and of itself.
As they reached the outskirts of the river estate, and Azriel banked to begin their descent, he finally spoke, voice rough.
"You mean the world to me, too, Elain. Please don't ever doubt that."
They landed on the drive at the front of the estate and, tucking his wings in once more, he gently set her down by the steps. Facing him now, Elain could finally look up to his beautiful face without wrenching her neck; she hadn't seen his eyes this joyously bright, nor such a smile on his face, since last year, and she felt herself warming from the shadowsinger's light, the winter wind nipping at their ankles long forgotten.
Smiling broadly, she bowed--an odd look in her gown, granted--and offered Azriel her hand.
"Shall we?"
***
Solstice dinner was, as usual, a long and luxurious affair for the entire inner circle, as they gorged themselves silly on food and wine and family, though Elain spent some time going back and forth between the kitchen and dining room, helping Nuala and Cerridwen, who would be spending the next day with their own loved ones. Luckily, or not, Elain was seated at the opposite end of the table to Azriel, though she frequently felt his eyes on her throughout the meal.
After dessert, which included Feyre’s birthday cake emerging from the shadows unscathed, triumphant in white and gold, as well as sticky date puddings with thick, freshly made vanilla bean custard, they had all gathered around the fireplace to exchange gifts.
This was the part Elain had dreaded and, after putting on a brave face all night, managing to restrict her furtive glances towards Azriel to only once every ten minutes, her nerves were raw, and she had decided she didn't have the strength to give him his sweater in front of their loved ones. To risk the reception highlighting yet another mistake would have been more than her heart could stand, so she left the blue and silver box in her overnight bag, and instead relished in the gifts she gave to the rest of her family.
If anyone noticed the glances she sent to Azriel or her bag, they spared her any comment. She knew, though, with absolute certainty, that Azriel had marked the absence of a particular box. Firstly, he was the spymaster; how could he not? And secondly, she saw a bright, curious shadow hover around her bag before disappearing--the sight of which pulled painfully at her heart. Another surreptitious glance at the shadowsinger caught him staring at her, and, though his face remained neutral, she felt such heat from him that she had to look away, or be trapped for good in the depths of his eyes.
And so, after a long night of various levels of drinking and debauchery, especially after Nyx had been put to bed, Elain, though feeling the effects of her long day--for it was well past midnight and she had risen before dawn--was still oddly energised. She knew what was coming, could not stop it if she wanted to, and could only hope not to blow it this year.
Elain had decided that her best course of action was to head up to her old room to change for bed, waiting for the house to fully come to rest before sneaking back down to, if she was lucky, catch Azriel, and if not, at the very least, leave the box on Azriel’s pile of gifts for him to find tomorrow morning. He would know whom it was from.
But Azriel, it seemed, had anticipated her move, and apparently welcomed it, for he sat by the dying fire, the light of which set his magnificent wings ablaze in shades of orange and red, with two mugs of drinking chocolate--a new arrival from the Winter Court, courtesy of Kallias and Viviane.
He stood quickly, stepped forward, and then stopped, as Elain crossed the threshold of the family room. "You came back down."
Elain stared at him, entranced by the light in his eyes, before once again remembering herself. He really was too easy to stare at. He knew it, too, the handsome bugger.
"You made drinking chocolate, I see." She smiled, "I hope it was from Rhys' personal stash."
Azriel laughed--actually laughed--and Elain felt her heart concurrently ease and speed up; a contradictory experience, but there it was. Only he did this to her. Not even Graysen had discombobulated her so, and she had fancied herself in love with him. She had loved him, she realised now, but not as deeply as she did the male before her.
Sitting back down, he tapped the seat beside him, and held out a mug of the decadently rich chocolate drink. It smelt divine, and, maintaining a little distance between their bodies, Elain accepted it and relaxed into the couch, placing the gift box on her other side. It would never be safe from prying shadows, but there didn't seem to be any visibly about at the moment, anyway.
They sat quietly for a minute, sipping their warm drinks, before: "Good haul this year?"
"Oh, yes." Elain nodded. "Lots of gardening supplies and tools; I can't wait to put them to use come spring. How about you?" She cringed internally at her attempt at small talk, it didn't belong between the two of them.
Azriel smiled guiltily, clearly having come to the same realisation. He always could read her.
He twisted on the spot to get a better look at her, and cleared his throat. If she happened to automatically copy that movement, well, it couldn't be helped. She told herself it was only polite, and not because she was drawn to him as a bee was a blossom.
"Elain, I--" Eyes shining, his throat bobbed as he swallowed before continuing. "I really am more sorry than you know, about last solstice. Please believe that it was never, ever you. It pains me more than I can say, that you've carried guilt with you for a year, for something that was never your fault."
Elain opened her mouth to respond, but closed it again, thoughts whirling as she drew the edges of her wrapper more tightly around herself. How could her misreading of the situation be anyone's fault but her own?
"Az, really," and here he smiled softly at her renewed use of his nickname, "You don't need to take the blame from my shoulders. If I'm in the wrong, so be it. I can only acknowledge it, apologise and move forwards."
Shadows flickered behind his eyes for a moment, before he responded. "You didn't misread me; I practically led you on, then rebuffed you. I am ashamed of my own actions, never yours."
Elain was still for a moment, considering, then she smiled.
"So, we have both decided that we are ashamed of ourselves, yet we still care deeply for the other, and have missed each other horribly for twelve months. How about we agree to drop the shame and just embrace each other, instead?" She blushed a little at the formality of her words, but she realised she would not take them back if she could.
"Deal," Azriel responded vehemently, and held out his hand.
"You've been learning human niceties, I see?" Elain joked as she accepted it and shook firmly.
He began to respond, her hand still clasped in his own, but froze just as Elain noticed a peculiar sensation around her left upper arm. Azriel looked on in alarm as she grabbed it, before pushing the sleeve of her wrapper down to inspect the skin. An oddly familiar golden, serpent-like beast wound around her flesh, the light dancing across it such that it appeared to move of its own accord.
"Azriel, what--?"
He blinked, then rubbed his own left arm. "I suspect that, if I remove my shirt and jacket, I will see a matching tattoo." Looking her right in the eye, he continued, "It appears we have made a bargain."
Oh. Oh!
"To… embrace each other?" Elain swallowed. "Not that I don't want to embrace you. That is--not that I do, either--oh Mother." She laughed. "I suppose we just agreed to keep caring deeply for one another. What's the harm in that?"
Still holding his marked arm, Azriel smiled back at her, face more open than she had seen it before. "I never stopped caring for you, you know." He reached up to gently cup her face, his thumb stroking her neck, and she couldn't help but close her eyes as she melted into his hand for a second.
If only she could stay like this forever.
Coming back to herself, Elain made to twist behind her for Azriel’s gift--they could discuss what their bargain meant later, she needed to do this now, while she had the courage--only to realise that the box was missing. Looking back at Azriel, a cheeky shadow had the box mid-air in between them, and Az was regarding it with keen interest.
"Now, what could this be? Certainly not a gift that you, once again, forgot to give to someone?"
Elain sighed, all exasperation. "Go ahead and open it, Az, it's yours. I know you want to."
Azriel took the box from his shadow and jolted, looking straight back at her. "What is this? I can feel it from here. I've been sensing something all night."
Elain only motioned for him to continue.
Reverently opening the box, then the brown paper wrapping, he removed the knitted undershirt and shook it out, eyes blowing wide. "You--Made this?"
Elain nodded shyly. "Yes, I used the highest quality wool I could find from the Winter Court, and knitted it myself. I know it's not professional level, but… it should keep you warm, at least, when you're away on missions."
Azriel looked at her with wonder. "No, I mean--you really don't realise, do you? You Made this sweater. My shadows can sense the power, same as Nesta’s swords and dagger, and not dissimilar to the items we have from the Dread Trove, either. It's more than a simple spell for keeping out the cold; this sweater is warmth, and…" He closed his eyes, shadows writhing over the garment as he considered. "Protection, and something else."
Elain nodded, completely bemused, but at the same time, feeling as if a window had suddenly been thrown open, shining light onto a deeply buried part of herself that she had, so far, struggled to see. It was, she realised, not unlike the time Azriel had discovered that she was a Seer, when no one else had. Then, as now, the naming of the power had helped her to acknowledge and understand its existence.
She wondered why, but that was something to ponder later. Trembling a little with the realisation, she asked, "If it's so powerful, why didn't anyone else sense it?"
Az pondered for a second before answering. "Made items tend to behave as they see fit, and if it didn't want to be found--that'll be the protective magic, I suppose," he smiled, "Then they wouldn't call to anyone else. I assume that, because this was Made with me in mind…" he blushed now, colour blooming high on his lovely cheeks.
Elain’s own face burnt, she knew she looked much the same. Azriel turned to look her full in the eyes, his own brimming with emotion.
"Elain, do you know what a gift such as this--a donation of power--entails amongst my mother's people, or in the Hewn City?" His voice was deeper, all of a sudden, and a tear or two looked ready to escape from his eyes.
She could only shake her head, worry coursing through her veins. Though she had read up on most Night Court customs, of course, and those of faeries in general, books pertaining to Illyrian customs, or those from the Court of Nightmares, were very hard to find, and Rhys and Cassian would wonder why she was asking, if she had. She had suspected they would catch on pretty quickly, especially if she'd asked after she had told Lucien she wouldn't be pursuing the bond the Cauldron had given them. Had she accidentally put her foot in it?
"Have I insulted you somehow? I never meant to--"
Azriel shook his head vehemently. "No, no. Please. This is the furthest thing from offensive." His throat bobbed. "The custom is usually from a male to a female, fae societies being what they are, but a gift of protection such as this amounts to a… a declaration."
Oh.
He regarded the shirt in his hands with such intense awe, before looking back to her, reaching with his hand, as if he had to hold on to someone to maintain some semblance of calm. She took his hand--of course she did. How could she not?
"I know you couldn't have known what something like this means, but--it means more than you could know, even without the custom, that you would honour me with such a gift." His eyes shone. "If you are still comfortable with me having it, I will treasure it. Always."
Elain was floored, and slightly shocked to realise that she didn't find herself embarrassed at having committed such a severe faux pas. All she could do was hold his eyes with her own, feeling the caress he sent her, reading the meaning hidden behind his careful regard, and trust that something was different this year, for whatever reason. Warmth filled her from the inside out, fighting off the chill air behind her, nothing at all to do with the fireplace over Azriel’s shoulder.
She nodded, but failed to keep her voice light as she said, "Of course it's yours. You honour me by accepting it."
Azriel exhaled a breath she hadn't realised he was holding, and a shadow appeared from nowhere, dancing along his newly tattooed arm before pooling in his cupped hands, and a rose and gold toned parcel appeared. He placed it gently in her hands before she caught on, raising one of his perfect brows, wings rustling slightly, when she didn't move to open it.
Whoops.
Unwrapping the paper and removing the lid, she found three small, burlap bags full of bulbs that looked like--
"These are tulip bulbs, from the Continent."
Elain could only stare. He had remembered? She looked at him, at his face laid bare.
"Maybe one spring we can go together, to see the fields in bloom, but until then, you can plant these where you will, and maybe…" He shook his head and looked away.
"Az, these are perfect." She hoped the true delight in her voice could convince him. "Of course I'll go with you. If they were in bloom right now, I would grab my cloak and we could be off straight away."
Relaxing once more, he managed to look at the bulbs in the box, each bag nestled carefully amongst straw to protect the precious life within.
"These will be red," with a scarred hand, he motioned towards the bag closest to her, which, on closer inspection, had a little red paper tag attached to the tie. "These will be pink, and these white." He motioned to the other two similarly tagged bags in turn.
She could hear his heart begin to beat louder, faster; as if it couldn't be helped, despite his centuries of training and ingrained self-control.
Elain stilled, staring at the box in her lap. Flowers held specific meanings, or even intentions, amongst humans… her own heart raced. She didn't want to assume anything, but he had shaken her hand not a quarter of an hour ago; so he had learnt some human customs, at least. Could he possibly be making his own--
Azriel coughed, and she dragged her eyes up to meet his own. His blush had spread to his ears, and she knew he beheld the blatant question in her eyes as he tentatively smiled; she felt his hands tenderly gather up her own, fingers nesting between each other instinctively, as if they had always belonged that way, but had been waiting for permission to regain their natural state.
Passion and love. Affection and caring. I'm sorry.
She knew her eyes were close to bursting, but she couldn't look away.
Azriel simply nodded as he slipped a loose lock of her hair behind her ear, before letting his hand drop to caress her neck. Elain shuddered lightly, warmth and want blooming with a dual intensity so powerful that she didn't quite believe it was happening. If she woke up now, she would probably cry.
Shifting on the spot, she slowly leant into him, looking up just before she tucked her head into his chest and placed her hand over his raging heart. As his arm went around her shoulders and secured her to his side, his expression was--she could only describe it as him being in a state of disbelief equal to her own.
Was this moment dream or reality? Maybe she should pinch herself.
Breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar, letting it settle over and into her until she felt it coated her bones and lined her veins, Elain could only ask, "Then why?"
He knew what she meant, and she felt his unease return as he spoke carefully. "Last year, things were different. Feyre and Nyx were at risk, which meant Rhys was, too. Lucien was sleeping here, and there was still an unanswered bond between the two of you."
Elain felt herself stiffening, growing cold. "No, you didn't."
Az sat them up straight, so he could look her in the eye. "No, I absolutely didn't. I would have kissed you then and there, to hell with any consequences."
"Then why? Who--" Elain stopped, eyes narrowing.
He marked the moment of her full comprehension, and nodded once more.
"Rhys stopped you? How could he do such a thing behind my back?" She was seething, anger such as she hadn't known in a long while brewing deep within. "After everything, everything I've been through, every choice I had snatched away… he took another."
She furiously rubbed at the tears flowing unbidden down her cheeks, until calm, callused hands arrested her own; she stilled, sniffing.
"Mother, I'm pathetic."
"No. Never," Azriel breathed. "You are hope woven iron, and stronger than you know. And, while I was also furious with Rhys, and am still angry with him, I am also to blame for what happened that night. I should have told you, or made sure Rhys or Feyre did."
"That--that is true, and thank you for admitting to it." Her voice grew stronger. "Please don't ever keep information about me from me again. My family has always tried to shield me from the smallest of truths, I don't want the same treatment from you."
Still holding her hands, Azriel moved to kneel before her, repentance clearly writ across his features. "Elain, I cannot promise that I won't ever act to protect you, as I assume you couldn't promise to never protect those you love, but I will promise you honesty."
Elain gave him a watery grin. "Those terms are both acceptable and understandable. But I find myself wanting to catch a toad in the garden and have one of your shadows deliver it to Rhys' bed… though Feyre probably wouldn't appreciate it."
Azriel laughed, gathering her into his arms as he stood. Elain's arms twined about his neck as if she'd done it a thousand times before.
"I wonder if she'd understand?" She mused. "But still, probably best not to risk it."
Nodding into the top of her hair, Azriel hummed his agreement.
Wanting suddenly to stand and face him more than anything, Elain twisted her legs; Az let them drop gently to the floor in front of him, his hands sliding to her waist. Breathing deeply, she let her right hand fall from his neck to the centre of his chest, as her left moved to his jaw and stilled. Unintentionally, or perhaps not, his wings stretched wide and resettled behind him, and Elain wondered at their beauty.
"So, you researched human greeting etiquette and the secret language of flowers, hmm?"
Azriel chuckled softly, skimming a hand back up her side in a long, languorous stroke to cover her own on his chest. "I did. But you Made a sweater, if we're comparing effort here." He tapped her nose. "After you and Lucien talked, and decided you weren't interested in each other, I knew I wanted to try again, but I had to make it special to you. I didn't want to rush into it, especially if you were still upset at me."
Elain met his eyes squarely. "I rather wish you had, we could have saved a lot of time."
The strangled laugh that followed her declaration made Elain smile in return, until Azriel turned his full attention back to her once more. Only, this time, there was nothing neutral left in his gaze; under his eyes, she felt completely exposed. But she liked it.
His hand gripped her hip, pulling her into him. Voice low, he breathed, "Oh, my dear. We have all the time in the world."
Any remaining doubt dissolved, and Elain felt herself shiver in response, toes curling into the carpet. Azriel’s nose flared, and she knew he could tell exactly what she was feeling. What his proximity, his voice, did to her.
Drifting up onto her toes without realising it, she found herself whispering into his ear, "I should go to bed."
He froze; that preternatural stillness of which only the most powerful fae were capable. In anyone else it would have set off every ingrained warning signal she had, but in Azriel it didn't just excite her, it thrilled her to the core.
"Yes, you should." His voice was deadly soft.
She could follow his own scent; could feel the need between them growing by the second. She wasn’t going anywhere without him. This thing between them had been building for years, and they had waited long enough.
She felt his hand slip up into the base of her hair and grip just hard enough to make her whimper with need, and he smiled. "You like that, do you?"
Elain nodded. She really did.
Azriel's wings flared out once more, almost hitting the wall, as he used the back of her head to tip her mouth up towards his. She couldn't stop staring at his lips, and she realised, with surprisingly little shame, that she was panting--her heart thundering in her chest as her right hand had clenched the fine material of his jacket hard enough to leave wrinkles.
She could have kicked herself as the people pleaser in her surfaced, and she moved to smooth his lapel. "I'm sorry," she breathed. "I don't know what came over me."
Azriel took hold of her hands, putting a stop to her fretting. "Don't be sorry. I like the idea of you leaving your mark on me."
Elain looked up at him, biting her bottom lip. She saw him track the movement, intent in every line of his body, as she said softly, "I--I think I like that idea, too. Of marking you, of being marked by you." Her body practically sang at the thought.
Azriel actually growled at that, the sound washing over her, bringing with it a new wave of need.
She needed him. Now.
His hand was back in her hair, she was looking up at him once more, and it felt as though time had stilled while they waited for the other to break their stalemate. Azriel must have realised that she had used up most of her bravado for one evening, though, because he finally uttered the words she had longed to hear for almost two years.
"I'm going to kiss you now, Elain."
"Yes," she breathed.
"But first, I'm going to take you somewhere private."
She had enough presence of mind left to think of clearing up the evidence of their late night meeting, but Azriel just dropped his mouth to her ear.
"Don't worry, the shadows will deal with it."
"That’s… very handy," was all she could manage.
He chuckled, dark as his shadows themselves. "Yes, they can be."
They were so close their foreheads finally met, and Elain’s heart leapt at the casual intimacy. It was something she had seen her sisters share with their mates over the years, and she had begun to lose hope that she would ever experience such a true act with another.
Tipping her chin up a fraction more, she nudged Azriel’s perfectly straight nose with her own--she'd ponder another day how he had been a warrior for over five centuries and not had it set crookedly after a break--and smiled so brightly the shadows behind him lightened in response.
"So… you mentioned somewhere private?"
Azriel pulled her so close their hips met, teasing her with his hands in her hair and at her waist. When she was nearly wild with need, he finally brought his lips down to hers, grazing them--provoking, soft and perfect--before pulling away with a groan.
"Are you ready?" Was the only warning she received before he had her cradled in his arms once more, though her hands caught on pretty quickly, and found their way to his shoulders; for stability, of course.
Laughing, she asked, "What are you doing? I do have legs, you know."
Wings flaring and shadows rising, Azriel hitched her tightly against him. "I'm embracing you," he growled. "I don't plan to let go for a while."
No sound came out, but Elain’s mouth pouted open as she felt her newly acquired tattoo send tingles down her arm, as if to remind her of its existence.
"Hold tight," Azriel whispered, lowering his mouth to hers once more. "And don't make a sound."
*
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