I Burn for You {One}
An A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfiction. Elriel. Period AU. 19th Century. Written alongside @snelbz .
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A/N: It's about time Elain and Azriel got their own story, right? I present it to you during the Regency Era. T/W: None
Azriel had been staring at a blank canvas for an hour.
Usually when a blank canvas presented itself, inspiration would strike instantaneously. His mind would form a beautiful image that would guide his hands and then a masterpiece would take its place on the canvas for all to see, but not this time. After an agonizing hour, Azriel’s mind was still blank. Empty.
He couldn’t tell if he was too inspired or not inspired enough.
The past few weeks had been all but the same, day after day. He kept to himself and didn’t leave his house, drowning himself in his art.
And liquor.
He was convinced that the staff ignored him out of pity but he didn’t care. He still ate when Cook made meals and allowed the maids to clean up after him. Other than that, however, he interacted with his staff very little these days.
Yet, they were the only ones willing to interact with him, it seemed.
He didn’t blame his family. They were all very busy.
Feyre and Rhysand had Nyx now and the babe drained every ounce of energy from the Viscount and Viscountess. Cassian and Nesta were still in their honeymoon stage and ignored everyone outside of their bedroom. Azriel was happy for them, all of them. He truly was. Yet, there was a hole in his chest that ached every time he was around them. They had all found something that Azriel was not sure he would ever find.
There was a time that he thought, just maybe, he could have it.
For all of his adult life, Azriel thought that he would never get married. For a long time, no one even caught his eye and he was happy to live his days in sordid revelry with his brothers. Then he met Elain Archeron.
From the first day he had met her on the streets of Velaris, he had been enthralled by her. It went beyond her beauty, although she was stunning. She was also kind, gentle and generous. Her eyes lit up when she laughed and her smile was contagious when she danced. Every time he was around her, he lost all sense of the world around him. All he saw was her, all he could possibly see was her. Even now, when he hadn’t seen her in ages, she consumed him.
He thought about her during the day and dreamt of her when he laid in bed at night. When he closed his eyes, she appeared and she was smiling at him, laughing with him, so unlike the last time he had seen her at Feyre and Rhysand’s when he returned from his travels. Before that, the last time he had seen Elain had been at Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding…and that had ended poorly.
He had no idea where he stood with Elain, he just knew that everything was different. They were no longer the friends they once were and he hated it. Azriel had been falling in love with her and he had never told her. If his intuition was correct, she had once had feelings for him too that had remained unvoiced.
No, he had absolutely no idea where he stood with Elain. They were no longer friends and certainly not lovers, but were they enemies? It didn’t feel like it. Instead there was an emptiness between them and Azriel wasn’t sure how to fill it.
There was one thing for certain: whatever had occurred between him and Elain involved Gwyn. Gwyn was one of Azriel’s closest friends. He enjoyed her company and had grown even more fond of her during their travels together. They had gone everywhere and done everything but nothing romantic had happened. Yet, when they were away together, Azriel couldn’t help but think how easy it was with Gwyn. Surely, it was far easier to be with her than Elain. With Elain, the ton was involved, but with Gwyn…it had only ever been just the two of them in serene simplicity and it had been enjoyable.
When he came home, a whole new sense of confusion had corrupted him. He found himself at a fork in the road where two different paths presented themselves. One side was the ton, where his family was, where Elain was. Although he had never truly fit in with the ton, it was a part of him, just as it had been a part of his mother. It was his past and his present. The other side laid on the opposite end of town, where he went to party with his fellow artists.
And Gwyn.
It was a simpler life, one he knew he could be happy living. Gwyn would make a good life partner, as well, could make him happy even if he was not in love with her. He cared for her, loved her in some form, just not the form that made men propose. Many of Velaris’ society married for the match, rather than love. Why couldn’t he?
But Elain…
He had been in love with her. Part of him still was, even if nothing was the same. He longed for her still, and he feared he always would.
Azriel knocked back the amber liquid that sat on the stool beside him and dropped his paintbrush to the rug. It was useless. He was wasting his time. After draping a sheet over the canvas so that he didn’t have to look it, so that it wouldn’t mock him, he strode out onto his balcony and was met with a rush of fresh air that nearly knocked him over.
When was the last time he’d gone outside?
Before he could contemplate that answer, a carriage rolled up the drive. He knew who it was right away. The Velaris crest was on the sides of the navy carriage and the black mares trotted along gleefully.
With a muttered curse, Azriel went back inside and out into the hallway. With uneven steps, he found his way through the manor until he was standing in the entryway where Rhysand stood alongside Cassian.
As soon as Azriel came into view, his brothers looked at him with a frown.
He didn’t see what the big deal was, even as he looked down at his rumpled trousers and loose tunic. His bare feet probably didn’t look too good, either.
“I didn’t realize you were coming to visit,” he said, trying not to let the liquor show in his voice but failing immensely.
“We came to have a word,” Rhysand said, slowly. “And to help you bathe. Looks like you need the assistance.”
Azriel lifted his arm and sniffed. He thought he smelled fine. “Fancy a drink?”
“There can’t possibly be any liquor left,” Cassian mumbled. “Not unless we wring you out.”
Azriel’s jaw locked. “If you came here to judge—”
“Not judge, to help,” Rhysand said, and then they’re moving. Both brothers grab Azriel and practically drag him up the stairs and down the hall to the sitting room where they toss him on the settee.
“I don’t see what the issue is,” Azriel said, trying to keep himself from falling over.
“You have a fucking beard,” Cassian said, crossing his arms as he stands above Azriel, as if that explains everything. “People think you’ve died, Az. No one has seen you in weeks. You haven’t left here in weeks.”
“So?” he asked, tossing his hands in the air. “I’ve been lost in my art!”
“And the bottom of the bottle,” Rhysand added. “The social season is about to begin and you’re not prepared.”
Azriel barked a laugh. “I’m not participating this season.”
The room fell into a tense silence. It’s Rhysand that finally asked, “Pardon?”
“I’m not participating,” he said, propping his bare feet up on the table in front of him. “In fact, I am thinking of selling the manor and leaving the ton entirely.”
Neither Rhysand nor Cassian had anything to say about that. They gaped at him, speechless.
“I don’t understand,” Rhysand said, at last. “Where did this come from? What are you talking about?”
“I think I’ll move to a smaller place,” Azriel explained. “One where I live alone, no staff. I don’t need more than a bed and a washroom. I’ll be closer to the Academy.” For a moment, no one said a word, then Azriel laughed. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. Don’t tell me that you’ve never thought of living a simpler life. I, dear brothers, have the option to do just that. I have no wife. All of my business endeavors can be sold. I have no living family that remains, so their names will not be tarnished.”
“He’s more drunk than I thought,” Cassian said, looking to Rhysand, talking about Azriel as if he weren’t even present.
“Oh, shut up.” Azriel stood, probably a little quicker than he should have, if the way he nearly toppled over the table was any indication, but he managed to right himself. “You both know the disdain I have felt for society my entire life. This can’t be a shock to either of you.”
Sighing through his nose, Rhys’s eyes were downcast as he approached Azriel, resting a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, looking at his brother. “No, but this will likely be a shock for you.”
Azriel noticed the self-satisfied glint in the Viscount’s gaze a second too late, and then Cassian was hauling him over his shoulder. Before Azriel could even think about breaking free, Cassian threw him into the fountain.
After he’d taken a proper bath in an actual tub, the three of them were sitting around the table, though Azriel wasn’t sure if it was breakfast, lunch, or dinner he was supposed to be eating. He could tell they were hedging around something, but the conversation was far easier than their previous ones had been.
Until it wasn’t.
“Elain will be returning next week,” Rhysand said, crossing an ankle over his knee.
Azriel stopped, a spoonful of potatoes and gravy halfway to his mouth. Without a word, he slowly set down his fork and leaned back in his chair. “That does not concern me.”
Cassian snorted, unable to help himself, but it was Rhysand that said, “You’re a fool if you think we believe that to be true. You still haven’t spoken to her since the day you all came to meet Nyx, unless you’ve written to her in Spring and we just don’t know it.”
No, he hadn’t written to her and she certainly hadn’t written to him. He doesn’t deign his brother’s remark with a reply, which is even more telling.
“Look,” Cassian began, and Azriel knew he was in for a rude awakening when it came to the rare seriousness of his brother’s tone. “Whatever this quarter-life crisis is that you’re going through, you can’t do something that you’re going to regret. This thing between you and Elain…you need to figure it out, or at least gain closure before you decide to leave everything and everyone you know behind.”
“Unless something more has happened with the red-headed artist that has made you want to leave the ton?” Rhysand asked, one brow raised.
Azriel shook his head. “She is only a friend.” Even though it was traveling with her that made her life seem so grand to him, nothing romantic had yet to happen.
“Then it’s settled,” Cassian said, stabbing his meat with his fork. “When Elain returns, you will make amends. You’ll join her for the social season. After that, you may decide your place in society.”
Azriel scoffed. “I’m not—”
“It will at least let the ton know that you are very much alive and well,” Cassian added, eyes hard as they remained on Azriel.
“You should not just leave unannounced,” Rhysand said, and Azriel noted that he hadn’t touched his food in quite some time. “If you’re going to remove yourself from the ton, at least do it in the right way. One more season and if you still wish to leave at the end of it, neither I nor Cass will stop you.”
Cassian’s jaw locked, unhappy with the idea, but he agreed.
Azriel sat perfectly still, refusing to go along with their plan. It wasn’t that it was an absurd plan. It was actually quite logical. However, he didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.
At least, not until Cassian said, “We’re just worried about you, Az. You’re neglecting your personal hygiene, you’re refusing to go outside, and you won’t talk to anyone.”
Azriel’s body slumped in his chair as he stared at the half-full plate in front of him. “I do not want to be presented in front of society.”
“Is it the beard?” Cassian asked. “Because you will be shaving before the first event of the season.”
Despite himself, Azriel chuckled. He shook his head. “I do not know where I fit in anymore, but I do not feel it is with the ton. In all sincerity, I never thought it was with the ton. My mother was an outcast the second she married my stepfather, and I am no different. I am the son that was raised by a cruel man that was not my father, who basically sent my mother to her early grave, and helped form these scars on my hands. Society has always looked upon me differently. Must I truly endure another season of their stares and silent questions?”
For a moment, Cassian and Rhysand remained silent. The butler swept into the room and refilled their glasses as they sat in the quiet.
“You are in love with Elain.” Rhysand said it lightly, and he watched Azriel as he reacted with an uncomfortable shift in his seat. “We know it and you know it. Your opposition of the ton has very little to do with everyone else. You have ignored them all your life and have laughed at their perceptions of you and your name. I know you do not like the ton, but I also know that you have stayed in society in honor of your mother, and that means a lot to you. This has nothing to do with the ton, Azriel, and everything to do with Elain.”
Azriel did not agree. He did not need to. His brothers knew it was the truth so there was no point in confirming it.
“Do not completely change your life without giving it the proper thought,” Cassian added. “One season to properly sort your thoughts.”
Azriel didn’t want to say yes. He didn’t want to promise something that he was not certain he could uphold. Instead, he picked up his fork and knife and began cutting the remainder of his meat.
As he began to eat, Rhysand and Cassian did not say a word more. They finished their meal in utter silence.
~.~.~.~
The Archeron carriage hobbled down the cobblestone path in the late afternoon sun. It was officially hers, the carriage, unless her father was in town but he rarely was as of late. He had allowed her to take it with her to the Spring court, where she had spent most of her time between seasons.
Now, as a new season approached, everything that had been happening was becoming very real.
She was the last Archeron to find a husband.
It did not bother her, not as much as it once would have. She was so happy for both of her sisters and celebrated with them in their joy. Now with baby Nyx in their lives, that joy only grew.
As she approached home after her long ride, she couldn’t wait to get out of the carriage, even if she would be the only one home. That was a huge part of why she had stayed so long in Spring. It was nice to be in a house with so many people, so many guests. At home, she was the only one there, except for those rare days in which her father was home.
She could stay with one of her sisters but she did not want to be an inconvenience. Feyre and Rhysand were starting their family, and Nesta and Cassian were still in their honeymoon phase. Besides, when the season began it would be nonstop balls, calls, and promenades. Then, she would very rarely be alone. Perhaps she should dwell in the quiet beforehand.
Besides, they had a wonderful staff that would keep her company if she wanted it.
As the season approached, however, the feeling of solitude was almost welcoming. It made her nervous, the coming season. She had yet to have a successful season and, in truth, the past few had been disasters.
First, there had been Greysen who led her on only to marry another once she had already fallen in love with him. Then, there had been Cassian, but he had ended up marrying her sister. In all truth, that didn’t bother Elain, not anymore. Cassian and Nesta were meant for one another, destined to be together. If Elain hadn’t walked out on she and Cassian’s wedding, neither he nor Nesta would have found their happiness and Elain couldn’t have lived with herself. Besides, she did not love Cassian, but he did make a lovely brother-in-law.
Then there was Azriel.
Azriel, who had once been just a friend. She had confided with him in the early days of the previous season, had looked forward to the long talks they’d had about everything and nothing at all. He understood her in a way that no one else had, and perhaps that was why she had developed feelings for him. By the end of the season, he was all she thought about. Just when she was ready to tell him as much, she found out that he was leaving for the summer, and not alone. She didn’t know what was going on between Azriel and Gwyn, and it was not her place to know, but she could not deny the feeling of jealousy. She nearly felt betrayal at the thought of Azriel spending so much time with another woman, and Elain knew that it wasn’t right but it did not matter. She could not help how she felt. She was only human, and her heart felt it all.
He was not like the rest of the ton. He had a heart greater than anyone she had ever known and he was such an incredibly talented artist. She kept the portrait of her that he had painted in safekeeping with her most prized possessions, right next to a small portrait of her late mother and a necklace that her father had gifted her when she was young.
He had no idea how she had affected her and perhaps he never would. She hadn’t spoken to him since the night of Feyre and Rhysand’s wedding, except for their brief and awkward interaction when she had come back to town to meet Nyx. There were multiple letters she had started writing to him that quickly ended up crumbled and in the fireplace.
She didn’t know if he would even want to speak to her.
She didn’t know how he felt or if he had found love with another.
Besides, she had new prospects. Very soon, Elain could be a princess of the Spring Court and married to the handsome Prince Tamlin. Although she did not have much in common with the Prince, he had means and seemed decent enough. She loved the Spring Court, loved the magnificent gardens on the castle grounds. She could be happy there, even if she and her husband were not in love.
She used to dream of marrying for love. Now the thought was only that — a dream. After her many failed attempts at marriage the past few years, Elain had nearly given up on that dream. Perhaps striving for a stable home and a husband that could provide for her was far more promising.
Prince Tamlin could give her that.
She had overheard the Prince in the gardens just before she had left. He was talking to one of his advisors, claiming that he would be following her to Velaris and thinking about proposing soon. Although she was unsure as to why he did not just propose before she left, the idea was flattering. Although, if he did soon propose, she was not certain what she would say. Although she adored his lands, she did not know if she could secure a better match than the Prince. But, that was what the social season was for, so she would not give it too much thought until a proposal actually presented itself…even if the thought lingered in the back of her mind.
That was not all that lingered in the back of her mind.
He was also there, with his charcoal coated fingertips and kind, hazel eyes. The thought that they were back in the same city terrified her as much as it excited her. Perhaps she would see him at the first social event, even though Feyre had written that he often secluded himself as of late.
Would he come to the first ball to see her? It was wishful thinking, especially when Elain had no idea where they stood. Did Azriel loathe her? Had she ruined it with her reaction to his summer travels? Should she have written long ago to apologize and mend their friendship? She did not know. All she knew was that the thought of not seeing him again, the thought of never speaking and laughing with him again, broke her heart.
As her carriage pulled up to the front of the manor, she sighed. She had far too many thoughts going through her mind to be at peace, but the feeling of being back in Velaris did bring her comfort.
The second the carriage came to a stop, she was pushing open the door and helping herself out. After taking in a deep breath of fresh air, she was walking up the stone steps of the manor and pushing open the door.
She was home.
Home and utterly alone.