he knew it was wrong, but there he was, sliding the necklace around her. letting his scarred fingers touch her immaculate skin. letting them brush the side of her throat, savoring the velvet-soft texture. elain shivered, and the took a damn long time fastening the clasp. azriel’s finger lingered at her name, atop the first knob of her spine. slowly, elain pivoted into his touch. until his palm lay flat against her neck. it had never gone this far. they’d exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. never blatant, unrestricted touching.
“Why do you hate me?” lamented the feared and exalted Shadowsinger of the Night Court.
Feared and admired, worshipped for his immense Illyrian power, for his stealth and strength, he, the great and mysterious spy master, the male who made enemies tremble and flee, and females swoon, failed utterly and completely at this one task—having his chunky newborn son open his eyes for him.
When his son was born, the first thing that shocked everyone—parents and healer and midwife—was his very impressive size. How the delicate, slender, elegant Elain even managed to bear him—without much difficulty too—was a mystery.
But the Cauldron loved Elain and strove to make Elain happy. It gave Elain an almost painless labour, though it was lengthy and uncomfortable nevertheless, and while Azriel was out of his mind with worry and trepidation, not knowing whether the baby’s wings would cause damage or even more serious issues, Elain was serene and happy.
The nightmare that was Nyx’s birth was still fresh in Aziel’s mind—the blood, the gore, Nyx’s tiny lifeless body in Mor’s arms, and Feyre, with a horrific gaping slash across her abdomen, bleeding out, Death hovering just above her. Therefore, Azriel dreaded Elain’s labour. For ten months he was a wreck. He was too happy, too elated, too content, too joyful in his life, and there bound to be repercussions for all that bliss.
The baby was conceived momentarily. “Let’s make a baby,” Azriel proposed a little drunkenly to the giggling and smiling Elain. They were enjoying a glorious sunset on the sea, in a tiny town with whitewashed buildings and blue roofs, in the Summer Court. It was far from Adriata, far from visitors and everyone else and they indulged in endless white sand beaches, fresh seafood and lots of local wine, swimming in the azure waters of the sea and enough lovemaking to leave them both sore and hoarse. “Now?” Elain kissed him. He shrugged, “why not now?”
And it happened—‘now’. When they returned from their holiday, she found out that she was expecting their baby.
Azriel couldn’t lie, but he was feeling rather smug.
“What the fuck kind of seed you got, brother?” muttered Cassian. “You just knocked her up in a day?”
Azriel only shrugged innocently.
As if this was to be expected. Of course he’d impregnate her in a day! But it wasn’t at all what he thought would happen—he thought that as with all Fae, this would be a lengthy process full of false starts, crushed hopes and nerves. But the Cauldron loved Elain and wanted to make her happy.
Now, he was holding his chunky son in his arms. Calm and peaceful, the baby took after his parents in temperament. He was mellow and not fussy, docile and good-natured. His appetite was monstrous though. He ate and ate and ate. At his already great size, Azriel muttered ‘you are going to be Cassian’s size by the time you are three’. And because he ate so much, he was rather plump, to put it kindly, which meant that his hamster-like cheeks obscured his eyes. At three weeks, their baby mostly slept and ate, so periods of play and interaction were minimal—hence, Azriel’s failure to actually see the colour of his son’s eyes.
Elain claimed that the eyes were hazel. Nesta insisted that they were ‘Archeron’ eyes. Cassian’s assessment was ‘I think brown. Like dirt’. Amren went with ‘I don’t know, I didn’t look closely’. Yet they all claimed that they’d seen his eyes.
Azriel was seated on top of the covers in their bed, propped against the cushioned headboard. His wing curled around Elain, who was sleeping next to him, pressed to his side, her arm thrown over his stomach. Their son, sturdy and large, almost the size of Azriel’s forearm now, was sucking noisily, eating like he hasn’t been fed in a week. He was fed less than three hours ago.
The bottle—a new invention from Dawn—wasn’t widely used just yet, but Azriel loved it. At first, Elain was reluctant to utilize it, preferring to breastfeed at all times, but then…well, then she came to accept how convenient this bottle invention was. Especially because Azriel was a nocturnal creature and had no issues with staying up or waking in the middle of the night. And with their gluttonous son demanding food all the time, she was still able to function and rest and sleep, since he didn’t really care which way he was getting his food, as long as he was getting it.
Azriel was looking down at the delicious bundle in his arms, and thought that his baby would end up looking very much like him, if he wasn’t so chubby. Right now, he was all round and soft and filled with folds that others wanted to bite and pinch.
Cassian, in fact, did bite his nephew’s little fat wrist, and Elain caught them, warning that Cassian wouldn’t be allowed to feed him if it happened again. “but it didn’t even hurt!” he defended himself feebly. “Just a little nibble…He is such a fatty!”
“No. Biting.” ordered Elain. “Or you’ll be off bottle duty!”
That was a serious threat that Cassian took to heart, because he absolutely adored feeding the baby with the bottle. He and Nesta were enthralled with him, quietly arguing and fighting about whose turn it was to feed him next. Elain and Azriel frequently overheard ‘you did it last time!” “no, but he likes me more…” “gods above, he does not like you more! He clearly prefers me!” “he was crying with you!” “yes, that’s because you made him cry!”
“We only have two choices,” said Azriel with a sigh, watching Cassian coo and babble to the baby one day, rocking him and singing him all kinds of bawdy Illyrian songs. “We either forbid them entry into the house,” at that, Elain frowned. “Or, we just let them be and simply assume that our son’s first word will be ‘fuck’.”
Adhering to the Illyrian tradition of not naming a child until he was one month old, the baby remained nameless. Well, Elain and Azriel knew what he would be called, but speculation ran rampant.
Elain had officially asked Cassian and Nesta to be the baby’s Guardians, a very important and respected position in the Illyrian society. It would fall on Cassian to start teaching his nephew how to fly—and when Elain formally requested for him to become the Guardian, Cassian shyly teared up.
“Yes, Petal, of course,” he nodded nervously, with aching sincerity, “it would be an honour. Are you sure?” Cassian still worried, “are you sure you don’t want to ask Rhys?”
Elain embraced the General gently and lovingly, and whispered, “I’ve never been more sure of anything, Cass. Only you. I’d only trust him with you and Nesta.”
It was Elain’s right as the mother to select the Guardians for her child, so while Azriel suspected who her choice would be, he waited for the official announcement along with everyone else. Eventually, the Guardian would present their son with his first sword, and begin teaching him to fight.
“Well, I want my baby to have the best,” said Elain, kissing Nesta’s flushed cheek. “Who is better than the Commander General of the Night Court armies and the Valkyrie herself? Will you two do us the honour of accepting him into your Guardianship?”
“Yes!” both of them almost yelled their acceptance.
Now, Nesta and Cassian was preparing something grandiose for the Naming Ceremony.
But first things first.
“Hey lovie, why don’t you look at me?” murmured Azriel, rocking his son gently against his chest. At first, the baby leapt towards his nipple, received nothing from it and gave an angry squeak of disappointment.
“Sorry, my friend, at this point, I think you should already know where the good stuff comes from,” said Azriel, as he offered the bottle. “I know, I know, not the same, but close enough. Believe me, I tried it straight from the delicious source and I agree, it is much better,”
“Stop being gross,” moaned Elain, and slapped his stomach.
He laughed.
“I am not being gross. Just honest. If I can suck on your titties,”
“Oh, gods, yes, I know. You’d rather suck on my titties than a bottle. I’ve heard this before,”
“And I stand by my opinion. So does my son. He has good taste. Now, go back to sleep.”
Elain ran a sleepy hand over the edge of his wing and turned around, pressing her lush ass into his thigh.
He drew his knuckles over her cheek and she reached for his fingers with her lips, kissing them, before tumbling back into her slumber.
Gods, he loved her.
The baby didn’t like all this jostling around him, and grabbed Azriel’s hand with his stubby fat fingers, steadying him and the bottle.
“Sorry,” Azriel murmured and looked down, stroking his baby’s soft brown curl that jutted out proudly on top of his head. “Mama is such a beauty…we can’t forget her either, even with you. I love you both very much.”
The baby nodded sagely, as if agreeing with his father. Yes, indeed, his mother was gorgeous and beautiful and very nice, and required his father’s attention. It was very understandable.
But this male, this father of his—he liked him very much as well. He was very kind and he fed him and changed him, and sang songs with him, and played with him, and…well, he loved him.
Azriel was smiling softly to himself, watching the baby, and then, suddenly, his son opened his eyes and grinned at him. Grinned a huge toothless smile—his very first one. He never smiled for anyone before, but this was it.
This was for his father.
This male, who’s waited for him for a long, long time, hoping against hope that one night, he’d have him in his arms and receive this huge, satisfied smile, which was meant only for him. An undeniable, glorious reward for centuries of suffering and sadness. He grabbed his father’s scarred finger in his fist and blinked at him with the depth of his Archeron eyes.
Hello Everyone,
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The shadows outside of Azriel’s room lingered. Elain had never really heard Azriel and the shadows communicating before and now she wondered if they spoke a different language. She glanced around in the hallway, praying to the cauldron that no one would come outside. She was about to knock on Azriel’s door when one of the shadows slipped under the door and inside his room. Good. A knock would have been audible, but his shadows were quiet.
As part of Azriel’s training, they were not going to report Elain’s movements to him. He wanted to see how capable of stealth she really was. “Let’s see how long it takes for me to register your steps and presence in a room,” had been his exact words.
It turned out to be really difficult to take Azriel by surprise, even without his shadows reporting her movements to him. It had been proven earlier today when Elain had tried to sneak up on him in the garden.
Did he known she was outside his door now? Was he planning on leaving her waiting?
Was it a bad idea to be here in the first place?
The cauldron and the mother both knew Elain had fought the urge. With everything in her she had fought it. But it was harder to ignore it when she could hear his heart beating... And knew he was awake.
At night, it was difficult for Elain to push back the sounds. Her hearing loved to sharpen when it should let her sleep, instead. She had grown used to listening to Feyre’s and Rhysand’s hearts. Little Nyx’s. She could tell what they were doing by the speed of their beating. She could distinguish their sleeping level and know when they weren’t sleeping at all. The earplugs had helped to block the sounds better. At least she didn’t get to hear when Rhys and Feyre got down to doing other things... The barrier of power Rhys used to block noise was good at its job.
But tonight, Azriel was staying at the river house, and his heartbeat was louder than the rest.
She had twisted and turned in bed, but the drumming was insistent, a call for her to answer. It also did not help that the memories of their training kept rushing at her. The heated glances, the small touches to correct her posture, her walk. The more she thought about them, the more sure Elain was that she had not imagined the desire in Azriel’s eyes sometimes. The longing. She swore that at times Azriel’s gaze dipped to her lips when they were standing close.
Was she imagining things where there weren’t any? He did reject her on solstice. He had told her it was a mistake that they had almost kissed.
But their glances, their touches... The way he had held her tonight as he flew her over the river. The way he had taught her how flying worked. How he had let her touch his wing. The glow in his eyes when she had finished. The hope that shined in his hazel gaze as he extended his arms to her to ask her if she would fly with him...
Then Elain was standing from her bed and making her way bare-footed across the hall. She implemented every lesson on walking Azriel and her friends had given her. She was as silent as she could be while his heartbeat got louder and louder. It was accelerated, as if he were nervous, scared. As if he were in a fight.
When she had reached his door, she noticed the shadows that hung just outside his room. They made the blackness even darker and that’s how she knew they were there. The image reminded her of her incessant vision, the shadows that congregated near the blinding light.
She pushed the thought away with a shake of her head.
There was never a way to sneak up on the shadows —not that she needed one. They had no eyes, but they saw everything within the area they were in. It was no surprise that they did not stir when she approached. They had seen her cross the hall and had orders to not tell Azriel anything.
Now she stood there waiting. After glancing to her right one more time, shadows moved towards her and shrouded her in darkness. Elain was startled briefly, but... They were hiding her, she realized. In their darkness, Azriel’s heartbeat disappeared. She could hear it one second, and the next—
The shadow around Elain shifted and she blinked up at Azriel’s impassive face. The door had not been opened wide, he was not inviting her in. But his heart’s pace had increased. Even though his face revealed nothing, Elain knew he was as excited as she was.
For a moment they stared at each other. Azriel’s jaw clenched as he looked to each side of the hallway. His voice was almost inaudible when he said, “What happened?”
Elain shook her head. She was afraid of sounding too loud, but she forced herself to ask, “Can I come in?”
Azriel did not shift. His face remained as neutral as it had been when he opened the door, but his heart sped even more. She was sure her own was the same way.
Reluctantly, he stepped aside and opened the door wider. Only when she was inside, the door closed, did he speak again. “Why aren’t you asleep?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” she turned towards him. “Why weren’t you?”
“I was sleeping,” he lied easily. If Elain had not been hearing his heart, she might have believed him.
“No, you weren’t.” Azriel tilted his head and Elain nudged her chin towards the door. “If we’re speaking like this—”
“The shadows made a barrier around the door and along the wall.” Elain relaxed, remembering how the shadows around her had dimmed Azriel’s heartbeat. They could block the noise. “What happened, Elain?”
She looked back at Azriel and swallowed. His face remained a natural mask. Her fingers began to twist her nightgown. “Nothing.”
Azriel just stared at her, not giving anything away. She suddenly felt awkward just standing there, but she did not want to go, either. She could not. In the dark, it was hard to tell, but she was pretty sure Azriel was shirtless. Her cheeks went hot.
He finally said, “You shouldn’t be here.”
Though his voice was not harsh, Elain felt shame crawl it’s way to her heart. Was he going to throw her out of his room? Did she really imagine every emotion in his eyes during their training? Was he going to reject her again?
“Why didn’t you kiss me on solstice, Azriel?” It was out of her mouth before she realized she wanted to ask him. She hoped the dark hid her pain, the heart she was offering on a silver platter to him by just asking that relentless question. One that had been pounding in her head constantly, just like that stupid vision or dream or whatever the hell it was.
There. A reaction. She saw him fist his hand. In fact, now that she glanced at his hand, she saw he was trembling.
He didn’t answer, though his eyes stayed locked on hers.
Elain took a step towards him. He clenched his jaw again. She inhaled, gathering all the bravado she had. “Why didn’t you kiss me on solstice, Azriel?” She repeated.
“It was a mistake.” His nostrils flared. “It shouldn’t have gotten that far in the first place.”
Elain’s heart would’ve cracked right then and there if it hadn’t been for the slight tremor in his voice. She would not have picked it up if he had not trained her to find such give aways.
He was lying.
The realization emboldened her and she ventured a step closer. Her heart was beating so loud she didn’t know if Azriel could hear it as she heard his. “No, that’s not it.”
“That’s it.” But his eyes were beginning to avert her gaze. He kept glancing all around. “You should go.” His wings shifted behind him.
Elain finished closing the distance, standing close enough that her chest made contact with his. “Azriel, look at me.”
“You shouldn’t be here, Elain.”
“Yes. I should.” Azriel shook his head. “We both know I should.”
He exhaled sharply, his chest quivering against her. She reached her hand and cupped his cheek. Azriel shut his eyes as his face contorted in agony. What was he fighting so much and why was he fighting it?
“Azriel, look at me.”
He did. He opened his eyes, but his brow remained furrowed, his jaw remained clenched, his arms kept trembling.
“Elain.” She inhaled at the sound of her name from his lips, at the tone. A plea. “Please go.”
Then Elain understood.
He was holding back.
From her.
Hope sparked inside Elain’s heart. She had not imagined anything. This male really did want her. This Illyrian work of art. Her friend, her teacher, her undoing. She wanted him. What was stopping them?
His eyes kept begging her to stop, to go, to step away. But that was not what Elain had come here to do.
She held his gaze, letting him see every one of her intentions. Azriel sighted and it was a sound of defeat, of losing a fight.
She rubbed her thumb against his cheek. “Kiss me.”
CONTENT WARNING: 18+ FOR SPICY SITUATIONS (SEX, I MEAN SEX.)
THEME: Smut, Romance, Angst
SONG SUGGESTION: “VALSE SENTIMENTALE" - TCHAIKOVSKY
NOTE: I WILL be continuing this story in a multi-chapter fic, however, it won't be posted until June, when Elriel Month has come to a close.
“And what of your future husband, my lady?” he asked, leaning over her now, his corded forearms on either side of her.
“My future husband should fall to his knees and thank the heavens for this night, for even if I hate him, I shall think of you when we f*** and I will make him the happiest man in all the world.”
The journey to Lady Morrigan’s estate was long. Nesta, Elain and Feyre finally reached the grand estate just before sunset, the carriage coming to a slow stop before the footman opened the door and helped the ladies out. Elain watched as a gorgeous blonde woman descended the steps, her smile so friendly and infectious that Elain instantly returned it.
“Ladies, I’m so pleased that you’ll be staying with me all season. I’ve been looking forward to this visit for weeks!”
“Our mother only told us about it yesterday." Nesta scoffed. "Mor, you know Feyre, and this is Elain. Elain, the Lady Morrigan.”
Mor scoffed and playfully slapped at Nesta’s arm. “Mor, please call me Mor. It is so lovely to meet you, Elain. Oh Nesta, she is positively adorable.” Elain flushed as Mor continued.
“Now, Nesta and I are old friends, so I won’t have any of you engaging in any silly formalities here. Come, lets get you all inside, what a ghastly hostess I’m being.” She hooked her arm with Elain’s and headed back up the steps and into the house, Feyre and Nesta following close behind.
“I’ve taken the liberty of having some gowns brought in for you already, but we’ll have the seamstress in tomorrow and make a morning of it, I'll get you caught up on all of the comings and goings here in town. The gossips tongues have not stopped wagging since the Duke of Illyria was seen back in town.”
“And the Prince of Velaris?” Feyre asked, her interest piqued. Mor smiled, taking her hand. “Where the Duke is, the Prince is also likely to be, as is the Marquess she said, arching a brow at Nesta who started straight ahead, not acknowledging the comment.”
“Your home is lovely, Mor.” Elain said, still walking arm in arm with the lovely blonde as they made their way upstairs. “Thank you, dear, just wait until you see it full of revelers and delight, then this home truly seems to possess a life all its own.” She said with a smile. “Now, I shall leave you to settle into your rooms and rest before dinner. I expect to hear every detail about every man who is vying for your affections. And do dress comfortably for dinner, it is just us ladies after all, let us dine in comfort.” With that, she left the sisters at their rooms, each one beautifully decorated. Elain draped her cloak over a nearby chair and after a thorough tour of her luxurious room she proceeded to wash up and change for dinner. Once she was ready, she made for Nesta’s room, knocking softly.
Feyre opened the door, smiling. “Elain, we were just about to come fetch you.”
“Oh?” Elain said, taking a seat on the bed as Nesta twisted her hair and pinned it.
“Yes…what do you think of Mor?” Nesta asked, watching Elain through the mirror at the vanity.
“Oh, she’s beautiful and very nice.” She nodded. “Independent and...unconventional.”
Nesta laughed. “Just take Mor as she is, she is clearly taken with you already. She does love a new doll to dress up, so be prepared.”
Elain laughed softly. “So noted, thank you for the warning.”
“Now lets go down to dinner, I’m starving.” Feyre said as she ushered her sisters out of the room, walking them both to the dining room where Mor waited in a simple gown but in a bright red color.
“Ladies, you look so lovely. The gentlemen are in such trouble this season with three Archeron ladies in their midst.”
Elain listened and chatted with Mor and her sisters as they enjoyed their dinner and gossiped well into the night. She couldn’t remember the last time she had had so much fun. Mor was naturally charming and Elain instantly felt comfortable with her. Normally, Elain remained guarded around other ladies her age, she had been hurt and betrayed many times by ladies vying for the same small group of suitors, even when Elain herself had no interest in them. The hostility was even worse when any of the gentlemen showed interest in Elain. Now, she sought only the company of her sisters, it was safer that way.
“I’m terribly excited for tomorrow evening, I haven’t had a party like this in far too long, though, I have made it my personal project to have them much more frequently this season.” Mor looked to Elain and saw a bit of worry etched there. “Your reputations will be safe, Elain, protected as mine has been. Everyone in attendance has their own reputation to consider as well.” Mor promised. "We protect one another with our discretion."
Elain nodded. “I’m just a bit nervous is all, nervous but excited.”
Mor smiled, patting Elain’s hand. “My darling Elain, you will find that things are always exciting in my circle. It is quite late, and the seamstress will be here early, we should all get some sleep. A long night awaits us tomorrow.”
They all nodded in agreement and went to their rooms. Elain tossed and turned, her impending engagement to Graysen haunting her. There had been a time that she had found him handsome and gentlemanly, however, upon meeting him and actually getting to know him, she found him to be cruel and when she refused him, he had tried to take advantage of her. His standing as a Lord had kept everything quiet and she had thought that he would never bother her again, but her mother would never turn down an offer from a Lord, even one as dishonorable as Graysen. Eventually, the exhaustion of a long day caught up to Elain and sleep finally claimed her.
The next morning, Elain enjoyed breakfast with Mor and her sisters, they laughed and gossiped as the seamstress took measurements and pinched and pinned swaths of fabric around them.
“Those pinks and lilacs certainly suit you, Elain, but if you would indulge me. I would love to see you in blue.” Mor said, holding up a swatch of soft blue and another of cobalt.
Elain nodded. “Alright, those look lovely.”
Mor smiled and picked a few more swatches before speaking with the seamstress and sending her off. “Now, I’m afraid you’ll have to manage for the rest of the day without me, I have much to attend to before the festivities tonight, but I shall see you all before the night begins.” Mor nodded to the sisters and left to attend to her plans.
The three sisters prepared for the evening in Nesta’s room. It brought comfort to Elain to have her sisters with her, especially when she was so nervous about tonights events.
“We will be wearing these.” Nesta held up a dainty bracelet, a cobalt blue jewel dangling from it. She fastened it to Elain’s gloved wrist, a gleaming red jewel dangling from her own. “There will be a gentleman wearing a pin to match. You can approach him, or he can approach you, but once you dismiss him he will not approach you again.”
Elain listened intently to how things would go that evening, the rules that everyone was to follow and above all else the fact that at anytime, Elain could stop if she wished.
“And you’ve both done this before?” Elain asked, her mood much improved as she was assured repeatedly that she would be in control of her own experience. They both nodded.
“It seemed strange at first, but everyone is here for the same purpose.” Feyre added before there was a knock at the door and Nesta opened it to find an elegant Mor sashaying in.
“Ladies…my goodness, the gentlemen will never forgive me for only having three of you.” Mor teased. “Now, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve taken the liberty of selecting your companions for the night myself. The crème de la crème, personally hand-picked with care to join you for the night. You, are especially lucky tonight, little flower.” She said, gently tucking an errant curl behind Elain’s ear, her grin widening as Elain’s eyes did.
“Now, if you don’t like who I’ve chosen, you may choose another for yourself, though I think that all three of you will be very, very satisfied. You especially, Elain.” This time, the mischief was gone from her expression as she gently took Elain’s hand in hers. “Since this is your first time, I have chosen someone who prefers to give rather than receive. Though, should the spirit move you, I doubt he would refuse you.” Elain nodded as Mor gave her hand a gentle squeeze and said just loud enough for her to hear, “he is most gentle and wishes only to please you. Your sweet encouragements will show him the way.”
“Now, masks on, ladies. The party has already begun and I am certain that your handsome companions are eagerly searching for you.”
Elain took a deep breath and smoothed the skirts of her cobalt dress as Nesta helped her tie on the elegant mask that covered the top portion of her face.
The sisters filed out, following Mor downstairs where the manor was already filled with music and masked guests.
Elain’s heart pounded as each of her sisters broke away and disappeared into the crowd. She took a glass of champagne from a passing tray and took a sip, hoping that it would help calm her nerves. She closed her eyes and took a calming breath, she wanted this, had been looking forward to this for weeks, her chance at freedom, self discovery and pleasure. She set the glass down and nodded, she could do this, she could do this…she couldn’t do this. She turned, intending to hide in her room for the rest of the evening but bumped into a solid chest, large gloved hands coming to rest on her arms, steadying her.
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry.” She said, blushing as she realized that her hand was now resting on the man’s chest, right next to the cobalt pin on his coat, the twin to the jewel that dangled at her wrist. She pulled her hand back as if she’d touched fire, his deep chuckle finally drawing her eyes up to his masked face, taking in his strong, defined jaw and enticing lips, her eyes locking onto the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. Caramel and warm honey spun together with flecks of emerald green.
“Please, don’t apologize. You’re just the Lady I’ve been looking for.” He said, those tempting lips curling into a roguish smile as he gently took her hand, his finger tapping the blue jewel that dangled from her wrist before placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. Elain felt an intense heat pool in her belly, her mind struggling to find anything appropriate to say when his smile grew, clearly enjoying how incredibly flustered she had become. The sound of a slap broke her from her daze, and she looked over to find Nesta glaring up at a large man who was rubbing his cheek, a wicked smile curling on her lips as he advanced on her and she gripped him by the hair, her lips crashing into his. A gloved hand gently tipped Elain’s chin up and away from the scene, pulling her gaze back to the man who stood before her, amusement sparkling in his eyes now as he asked, “Would you care to dance, my Lady?”
Elain nodded, her senses returning to her. “Y-yes…yes, my Lord, that would be lovely.” He smiled and offered her his arm, Elain placing her hand in the crook of his elbow and accompanying him to the grand ballroom where he swept her into a waltz. He held Elain’s hand firmly, his other hand at her waist as they danced their way around the room. Elain could feel movement in the muscles hidden under his fine clothing, she blushed slightly as she tried to focus her mind on other things, but this was why she was here, wasn’t it?
The dance ended and he bowed to her before asking, “Would you like another turn, my Lady?”
Elain nodded, her heart racing as he pulled her closer this time, spinning and twirling her, his smile lighting up as she followed along, trusting him and gliding with him, her smile relaxing and glowing to match his own. “There you are, angel.” He said as the dance ended and he dipped her, his lips meeting hers, his tongue teasing her lips, begging for entry. A moan rumbled in his chest as her lips parted and he felt her arms snake around his neck as he righted her, his tongue now massaging hers. A soft moan escaped her and she turned away, needing air, but peppering his neck with kisses as she said, breathlessly, “I’d like to go to our room now.”
“Your wish is my command, my lady.” He nodded and again offered her his arm. She took it, hoping that he wouldn’t notice how she was trembling as they made their way away from the throng of revelers and down a quiet hallway a single door at the very end of it. He pulled the key from his pocket and unlocked the door, holding it open for her. Elain walked in, wringing her hands as she stepped further in and looked around, getting lost in how beautiful the room was when the sound of the lock clicking brought her attention back to him, her handsome stranger.
“I’m afraid I'm not very experienced...not experienced at all actually…” she said, slightly embarrassed but not wanting to seem disinterested, she was absolutely interested in spending the night with him.
He inclined his head. “Morrigan told me that this would be your first time. Has she explained the rules to you?”
Elain nodded. “Yes, that I can stop anytime I want. I assume you will also tell me if you would like to stop?”
He nodded. “Yes, though I highly doubt that will be the case.” He said, his rich voice sweeping over her like a lover’s caress. He slid out of his jacket and for the first time she took all of him in. He was clearly some sort of nobleman, his clothes were the finest she’d ever seen on a man, tailored perfectly, his boots perfectly polished. He stepped closer to her, holding his hand out to her and she took it, looking up at him shyly.
“I’m quite determined to please you tonight, angel, so if I do anything that you do not like, you must let me know.” He said, unclasping the bracelet from her wrist and smirking. “I don’t suppose we need that anymore now that we’ve found each other, hmm?” Elain shook her head, watching as he purposefully pinched the tip of each of her gloved fingers, slowly loosening each one before sliding her glove off, placing the softest of kisses along the way, down every inch of newly exposed skin, finishing with her fingertips. She stood frozen, entranced by him, a flair of desire blooming within her and quickly engulfing her. She caressed his cheek, then slid her hand to the back of his neck, guiding him down to meet her mouth, her other hand tangling in his cravat, untying it with skillful and eager fingers.
He arched a brow. “My angel is more eager than I thought. I shouldn’t like to disappoint you by delaying your pleasure any longer, my Lady.” He said, making quick work of her other glove, taking the tip of the middle finger in his teeth and pulling it off, giving her a wink before tossing it aside and taking her in his arms, his mouth on her neck, his fingers working at the back of her gown. Elain moaned, her fingers in his hair as she whispered. “Please, my Lord…spoil me with your sinful delights.” In an instant, her dress fell loose, skirts pooling at her feet. He made quick work of her underclothes, corset and chemise joining the pile on the floor until she stood before him in only her stockings. Her fingers worked to free him of his vest and shirt, her hands sliding over his muscled chest, nails ghosting over his skin, eliciting a growl that rumbled from deep within his chest.
“Careful, angel, or you shall bring out the devil in me.” He warned, laying her down on the bed, her hands caressing the muscular arms that now caged her in on either side. With a gentle and still gloved hand, he brushed the side of her breast, delighting in the soft moan it elicited from her. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the swell of each of her breasts before taking one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue teasing and curving around the sensitive bud, her chest shuddering in response, her thighs clenching as her body came alive at his touch.
Elain took a shaking breath, rubbing her thumb over his cheekbone. “You must think me ridiculous to be so affected already.”
He gave a devilish grin and said, “On the contrary, my lady, I look forward to making you come completely undone before this evening is over.” His grin widened at seeing her relax and he peppered her throat with kisses before giving a little nip that made her gasp. She closed her eyes and pressed her head back into her pillow as she felt his hand move down her body toward the apex of her thighs. He touched her there, where her desire flared and pulsed for him. His fingers moved so torturously slow as he ran them along her seam, then between, stroking lightly, teasing her as she moved her hips up to meet his hand, her pleasure escalating with each stroke. “Look at me, angel.” He commanded and she obeyed, their gaze locked as she climaxed under his masterful touch, her eyes glossing over with unshed tears as the wave of ecstasy washed over her and she sang out in pleasure. It was music to his ears.
Suddenly, she tugged at his pants. “Off.” She said, whimpering into his mouth as his tongue massaged hers. She leaned into the kiss, pressing herself against him and he wanted her closer, sliding his arm around the small of her back, his other hand freeing her hair from its pins, letting it fall loose around her shoulders. “My lady, are you certain?” he asked, having already been told of Elain’s purity by Mor.
“I have never been more certain about anything.” She said, burning for him, the need to feel him inside of her driving her to near madness.
“And what of your future husband, my lady?” he asked, leaning over her now, his corded forearms on either side of her.
“My future husband should fall to his knees and thank the heavens for this night, for even if I hate him, I shall think of you when we fuck and I will make him the happiest man in all the world.”
Something dark and lustful flared in his eyes and he rose, removing and tossing his boots and pants aside. Panic flashed in her eyes for a moment as she took in the size of him, but her legs spread for him as he moved back onto the bed. She trembled when his hands touched her thighs, his thumbs stroking gently, heat flaring between her legs and making her writhe under his touch. Her breath caught when his lips replaced the stroking thumb on her inner thigh, soft kisses and his warm breath trailing their way higher, his fingers sliding along the seam between her legs again, her core already throbbing.
“My Lord, please.” Elain begged, her back arching, her body on fire from the slightest touch of his hands.
“Azriel.” He said, his voice rough and strained. She opened her eyes, panting. “I thought-”
“We aren’t, but I want my name on your lips, my lady. I need you calling my name every single time I deliver you to euphoria.”
“Azriel..” She moaned softly, gasping when she felt his hot tongue making slow deliberate strokes higher and higher up her thigh, her shock exceeded only by the pleasure she felt under him. Eyes of honey and caramel remained fixed on eyes of polished amber as his tongue did heart stopping things to her, each flick of that talented tongue triggering a need in her to thrust her hips toward his mouth, but his firm hands held her right where he wanted her. Her skin burned under his touch, the desire flaring so wildly within her that it threatened to consume them both each time he brought her to the height of elation. Over and over his tongue tied her into knots before releasing her, drawing his name from her lips with his lustful magic and leaving her a panting heap on the bed. She took his hand in hers, eyes pleading as she said, “I want to feel your hands on me.” He nodded, letting her slide his gloves off, his heart quickening as he waited for the spell to be broken and for this night to be over. Instead, she looked up at him as she slid his finger into her mouth, her tongue swirling and stroking, making his cock twitch and his eyes roll back, a gutteral moan rumbling from his chest.
“My-Azriel.” She mewled, hands cradling his face as she brought his lips to hers, kissing him sweetly and tenderly.
“Mmm…I am yours. Until you come to your senses and cast me aside, I am yours.” He promised, kissing along her jaw until his lips found their way to her neck and he marked her. Her moans were like music as he slid one finger and then two inside of her slowly, preparing her before positioning himself between her legs and easing himself inside of her. He savored the moment, her tightness around him as he slowly sheathed himself inside of her, her hands at his shoulders, nails digging in as she cried out in pleasure and a bit of pain, her body betraying her as her legs wrapped around him, to draw him even deeper still.
“Easy, angel-
“Elain!” she cried out, panting into his neck, trembling from the stimulating charge coursing through her body. He hadn’t even made it all the way inside of her when she’d come undone the first time from the sheer size of him.
He slid one hand to cradle the back of her head, his lips crashing into hers as he found his rhythm inside of her, driving slow and steady. She arched into him, her breasts pressing against his chest as he quickened his pace. She gasped as his hand tightened in her hair and she moaned softly, pulling her head back and exposing her neck to him.
“Elain.” He practically purred as he retreated before driving back into her, his thrusts becoming harder and more demanding, Elain’s nails dug into his shoulders as she cried out his name and begged him for more, throwing her head back into the pillow as she came completely undone again, her tightening core pulling him to ecstasy immediately after. Azriel brought his hand up to her sleek neck, cradling it as his thumb slowly stroked up and down gently as he kissed her softly on the lips, her eyes fluttering closed as she brought her hand up to cradle his cheek. She was beautiful, no mask could hide a face that stunning and those eyes full of such affection and fondness when she looked up at him. Those eyes ignited something within him and he knew that this was not an encounter that he could simply walk away from. That thought, however, could wait. Tonight, they still belonged to one another. He smiled as he lay back and she moaned softly, draping her arm over his torso, one of her legs tangling between his and her head coming to rest on his shoulder, a peaceful smile on her lips as her eyes fluttered closed and she fell asleep, utterly exhausted. He would pull every single favor he had to find out exactly who this woman was and what he would have to do to see her again.
Day 1 of Elriel Month is here!
Summary: He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.
You can also read it on ao3!
They didn't talk.
No shy glances, no accidental touches while passing each other through the corridor, no warm smiles behind the rim of a wine glass. Even the silence in which he was sitting was unbearable, so different than the one that carried comfort and jasmine scent that always made him content, whole, at ease. Now, sitting alone on the fine chair in the House of Wind he was barely breathing. He was suffocating with loneliness, heavier than the one that crawled through his bones in that dark cell from his childhood. A real pain exploded behind his closed eyelids.
The night air pricked on his face as he tried not to think, not to feel. It was as if the gaping hole in his chest was a thing of his own shadows - swirling inside, eating him out and leaving only shreds of his broken emotions. He tried. He tried so desperately not to fall for her. For yet another unattainable person that was next to him just to mock his misfortune. It was something completely wrong. How one can take so many failures and still delude himself that maybe this time the ending would be different.
He was such a damned fool.
Azriel opened his eyes as a sharp pang in his chest enveloped him in another wave of utter bitterness and helplessness. The thing with Elain was something he hadn't expected - she came into his life wielding a fork and suddenly he could see clearer than ever before in his life. How sun caught in her golden-brown hair and how the freckles on her left cheek created a small triangle. And the way all that loveliness faded away when she was stripped of her own free will - and how he failed her at that moment. The arrow to his chest didn't hurt as much as her screams. The terror of them was still haunting him during long nights of insomnia and half slept nights.
And there was that companionship they formed. Based on silence and gardens. Teas full of leaves and sticky fruit floating on its surface. Elain always preferred her to drink sweet, even if her nose scrunched each time she sipped from a porcelain teacup - pale pinky held in the air as if she was still a lady in a room full of liars and men trying to woo her. Maybe during those moments of tranquility between them, he started to appreciate her gentleness even more.
Their meetings slowly but surely transformed into nights full of sleeplessness and sore throats - silence turned into constant chatter about everything and nothing. The first time he heard her giggle his world turned upside down. In that particular moment she was all he saw, in all her golden glory and chocolate smear on her chin - so warm and bright, so out of his reach. A secret. His secret, a memory to be locked inside his mind's labyrinth.
Sometimes he wished that both of them stopped before they had even begun their… relationship. Because maybe if he possessed more self strength and if he was less selfish, he would have protested when Elain touched his hand while they were resting in the garden. Or when he caressed her cheek while trying to get rid of the soil splattered there. Whenever they touched Azriel felt as if he was healing. These small palms that traced ridiculous figures on his scarred hands brought him comfort no one else did. A touch so tender that he wanted to break in halves only for her to mend him again. She was nothing like him and at the same time so familiar, so understanding. When she looked at him with her brown eyes full of terrors and beauty, he knew that she could see his soul. Every ugly part of him. And she never averted her stare, never flinched from his touch - she wholeheartedly accepted him.
Sighing out loud his wings twitched behind him when his eyes darkened once again. He knew that Rhysand's orders weren't fickle nor laced with lies, yet he couldn't phantom how his brother turned on him. How he, of all the people, couldn't understand how badly he wanted to be happy.
"Long night?" He snapped his neck at the voice and inwardly relaxed seeing cold silver eyes staring at him without fear.
"I suppose so," shrugging his shoulders he turned back toward the city, one hand still on the glass of strong alcohol he was pouring into himself for hours. A screech of a moving chair resonated next to him and with a slow exhale he sipped his drink.
"Not the fire this time," Nesta huffed and he saw in his peripheral vision that she poured herself a decent shot as well. "Both of you are the same," a small smile ghosted on her lips before she drank the brownish liquid in one go.
"Me and who?" He knew playing stupid wouldn't work on her but he was so tired. He had already lost, so Nesta seeing him at his worst would be nothing in comparison to the thunder inside his mind. The oldest Archeron sister let out a dry chuckle which indicated that she was aware of his silly attempt of deflection.
"Elain," her name awakened something inside him. Like a golden tether holding him upwards, longing after the female that brought up such emotions from him. "She used to glow these days, you know," he saw her playing with the rim of the goblet. Long finger stopping suddenly as if the glass burned her. "I know what happiness looks on her, and whenever both of you interacted or spent time together she was always… so bright. So alive," his heart thumped a few times before it gave him a painful tug. "The moment you saved her life was the first time I had wished that you were her mate," the wound opened again, a small sound escaped his mouth before he slumped forward. "But fate isn't so merciful. Yet, Elain made her own way in this life. I saw how she escaped that empty shell she used to be and how she learned to breathe again… with you ," Azriel wanted her to stop. To let go of this torment she was exposing him to.
"I can't listen to this," he stood up, his wings stretching to its whole span. "You know it's impossible," his bitter laugh echoed in the interior. "We both know that it doesn't matter if I have feelings for her," he was ready to fly away when Nesta's hand caught his elbow. Silver eyes shone in the darkness of the night with ancient power.
"It's her choice," she whispered. "She doesn't want her mate, she has never wanted that bond," her grip loosened for a bit and he was tempted to run away but her expression held him in one place. "But she wants you. She chose you. And you know it because I saw how you look at her, how both of you glance at each other," she pinched him when he was composing himself from snapping at her. "Ask her. Ask her about what she wants. Take her to the place where it's just both of you, so no one can interfere," her nod was final and with it, she slowly turned around and vanished upstairs. His jaw hurt from the force he was clenching his teeth. Nesta's words were a poison that circulated through his bloodstream.
Could he have that conversation?
Could they possibly be together?
The night air was cold against his burning skin when he shot up in the sky, wings outstretched and tense.
*
He landed on her balcony.
The beige curtains were dancing in the air, metal dreamcatcher swaying on the wisps with a soft melody. There were plants and flowers scattered around the balustrade and his shadows skittered around them, leaping into petals and leaves before returning to his form. He stopped beside the wooden table to see half-finished tea and some papers - a few of them with drawings of different gardens, trees, and notes about the seeds. However, what caught his attention was a stash of papers with Elain's handwriting. All of them were thrown around the surface with drops of tea marking some of them. There were letters forming sentences, he could pinpoint some of them, ones that weren't completely crossed out in the pale moonlight. He was about to touch one scroll with his name on it when his shadows whirled around him with a soft warning.
"Spying on me?" The sweet scent of jasmine and honey embraced his person as his hazel eyes blinked at the sight in front of him. Elain was in a white nightgown, tiny ribbons on her freckled shoulders were something he didn't know he needed to see in his life. Her loose hair was curling at its edges as the tresses touched her middle. She was watching him, big brown eyes stoic and unnerving.
"No," he breathed and her smell attacked his senses, driving him crazy. She crossed her arms under her breasts and padded towards him. Her feet stopped next to him and with a lazy movement, she gathered her papers without glancing at him. He could see her nape, soft and pale and so inviting as she leaned across the table. His fingers curled into fists when her presence burned his self-resilience.
"Do you need me for something?" She inquired letters in her grip and a slight frown on her perfect face.
"Actually," his shoulder tensed when she shot him a questioning glance. "Yes, I need you," he left it there. A pause and weight of his words, waiting for the judgment and perhaps hatred. But it never came as Elain silently turned to him, her lips parted and a soundless sigh ghosting in the air between them. She peered at him, irises wide and somewhat gentle before she touched his biceps and he was ready to be undone.
"We should talk," her breath tickled his skin as he nodded without thinking twice. "Here?" Her question woke him up and trying not to scare her, he offered his scarred palm while stretching out his wings.
"There's a place I want to show you," his words echoed in the dead of night and as her small fingers wrapped around his hand he could finally breathe again.
*
When they arrived the moon was high in the sky, its light reflecting on the waters of a marble fountain in front of the manor. He exhaled letting Elain down as she politely exchanged her thanks. She pried her hair from the face and with newfound excitement, she whirled around facing him with a bright smile.
"I dreamed about this place," her voice was warm and all he wanted was to touch her to make sure she was standing there under the moonlight. "The gardens were something I have wanted to see," she pointed a finger in the direction of a greenhouse and a patch of flowers and vines.
"Dream or a vision?" He knew he shouldn't test his luck, yet deep down inside he felt as if he had already known the answer. As if it was imprinted inside his heart for a long time.
"Vision," she answered, walking towards the field of roses. Her palm touched some petals while her hair tumbled down towards the ground. "I saw you here," her digits closed around the stem with silent amusement. "You were happy," she turned around and looked straight at him.
"This is Rosehall," the lump in his throat made it difficult for him to speak. It was like a fever dream of his, having her here in the fields of flowers and so painstakingly real.
"Very suitable," she smiled and turned once again stepping onto the soft grass. "It's a pretty name," he heard her sitting on the ground and when he glanced up he saw her lying flat on the earth. Her knees were slightly angled but her face was upwards as if she was watching stars. Azriel staggered towards her, breathing fresh air as he finally stood up on her right.
"I haven't thought about its name for years," he slowly sat and looked at her profile. She was gazing at the sky with a small smile. Happiness looked beautiful on her, it made her glow.
"There's so much...space," she breathed and her chest moved in a slight erratic manner. "You can almost taste freedom here," Elain blinked as she turned onto her side. She faced him and he thought that there was never a time in his life when he felt so many emotions at once.
"I'm sorry," the edges of him crumbled as his eyes started to burn. He didn't mean to hurt her, not in the slightest. He was just too… selfish. And she was everything he had ever dreamed about, an embodiment of home, of a warmth he so desperately searched for. "It wasn't a mistake," he whispered as her hand fell upon his abdomen. Always trusting, always inviting.
"Then what? A distraction?" She mused as her body leaned forward and she was mirroring his position. "I will never know as long as you won't talk to me," she supplied with a pain in her voice.
"No, never a distraction. I have wanted this," he circled the air with his hand ambiguously. "From the moment you clenched onto that fork you were someone I have wanted to be with," his head lowered down Azriel didn't want to meet her eyes.
"Why haven't you told me?" Her confusion mixed with regret pained him.
"You have a mate," he muttered while plucking on some innocent straw of grass.
"And you know I don't want him," her palm searched for his cheek and as she turned his face to look at her, he saw tears in her eyes. "Whenever I'm with you I feel whole. Alive. I look at you and feel so scared," he inwardly flinched yet she held him in one place. "Scared of losing you. Every time I lose sight of you I feel like I'm drowning. It's as if a part of me was ripped apart," she closed her trembling lips and stared at him with utter devotion.
"Elain," his fingers touched her neck, his thumb circling around the hollow gap between her shoulder and jaw.
"That night I chose you. Us," she said with a final note, leaning against his hand. "It's my choice, no one else's," a butterfly-like kiss ghosted on his inner palm.
"Rhysand's orders," he gulped when she pushed him down and climbed onto his lap.
"Fuck Rhysand's orders," she spat and for a moment both of them were silent. Then he laughed, a true bellowing laughter erupted at the back of his throat at her vicious remark. Her giggles followed and he had never heard such an extraordinary sound.
"Never deemed you as a foul mouth," he managed when she slumped forward, enveloping him in a warm hug.
"I live with Illyrians and a very pissed immortal being," a hot kiss on his neck made him shiver.
"Elain," he took her face in his hands and stared at her brown eyes with a heat crawling down his spine. "Elain," he whispered again while closing the distance between them. She whimpered when he finally nibbed at her lower lip. The sensation waking up something primal inside him, a storm of feelings and needs attacking his senses. Her warm mouth opened and he finally kissed her - something exploded in his chest, something brilliant and intimate. It was as if everything was set in order, the way her lips moved against and how their bodies molded into one. He could feel her, smell her need and anticipation. She was shaking as her small fingers dug into his neck.
"Azriel," his name on her lips was his undoing. He opened his eyes and saw her… glowing. The golden hue enveloping both of them into a cocoon of intense bliss. When she opened her eyes the golden color lingered there for a while before vanishing, leaving both of them gasping for air.
"You were always there," he realized touching his chest. A vibrant thread blinding him with its magnitude.
"Rosehall," she laughed tracing his scars. "You have waited for so long," Elain kissed his temple while embracing him again. "I'm sorry I have made you wait for so long," the bridge between them sparkled with love and belonging.
"I knew you would come to me," nothing but the truth slipped through his lips as he gently cupped her chin. Both of them stared at each other, halves of two finally found. A home he had longed for, held in his arms as a scent of roses and jasmine shielded him from the world.