I don’t wanna leave these characters but this fandom is too toxic. Please spread positivity cause it’s making me wanna leave and this fandom means the world to me but the hate rlly hurts that all the fans basically bash these characters to bring up other ones 🙄
.RHYSAND & TAMLIN. 💗
Hello everyone!
This is 100% legit canon 👌🏻😂
I saw this text post by @incorrectacomafquotes and had to draw it 😂
Also, I’m sorry if it’s taking me longer to post lately... it’s been busy... so yeah...
I hope you all like it and that you are doing wonderfully in life 💗💗💗
Summary: Elain has always known there's more to her feelings towards Az than just friendly affection. When Azriel and Elain are sent to Adriata on a diplomatic mission, could this finally be the chance for close friends to become even closer?
Word Count: 3757
Read on AO3 here.
Part I | Part II | Part III
“I want you to know … that I am here. For you, I mean. Whenever you need me. I'll be there, always.” Elain exhaled, reaching out to touch the petal of one of her roses to distract herself from Azriel’s reaction.
The spymaster blinked. “I appreciate that, El.”
“I know you do. You're – I know. I know you. What I’m trying to say is … I like you. I just wanted you to know that I like you. I mean, I don't want to pressure you into anything but going there, together with you, would mean more to me than you probably think it does. And you don't have to do that if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Taking a huge breath Elain clutched her hands together. She could feel Azriel's stare bore into her and, gods, she couldn't look at him. Because now he knew. And he didn't even know everything. Of all the times she had stared at him, completely in awe, and wondered what it would feel like to be his.
She had been close to confessing many times, but anxiety had always locked up her throat. She didn't know why it had to be today. Of all the days Elain could have told him, it was the day they were supposed to go to the Summer Court together. They’d been asked to visit Tarquin and make sure the refugees from the mortal realms were being treated appropriately. Nesta and Cassian had the task to examine the situation in the Autumn Court, so Elain knew she and Azriel had the easier assignment. A vacation, really.
It might have been the broken mating bond to Lucien, or the simple fact of his horrible family, that made Feyre and Rhys decide to send the fiery duo to handle the breed of Beron.
Tarquin was of calm nature, her sister had explained. He wouldn't do anyone harm, especially not humans. Nevertheless, they had to be sure.
When Feyre had declared the seer would be traveling with Azriel, Elain had been ecstatic. She had realized months ago that the tenuous friendship they had built meant more to her than whatever she had felt for Graysen and certainly more than what the mating bond to Lucien made her feel.
Lucien … he was great. Kind hearted and generous, but what drove him to her was the mating bond, and only that. Ironically the Cauldron-forced bond was what Elain couldn’t bear; she didn't want to be loved for the sake of a bond she had no idea how to deal with.
The bond was not what she had chosen.
Many things in her life had been out of reach and out of her control. Like her ability of foresight.
It was another magical bond the Cauldron had forced upon her. But she had found a way to deal with it; with the never ending visions, the curse of seeing Fae die, cities destroyed and families broken. It was Azriel who had shown her how to deal with her newest sense. For he, too, had once figured out how to work with the shadows – how to own them instead of being owned by them.
Azriel had shown her a lot of things. Like true friendship.
When she was mortal Elain had never befriended boys. It was not appropriate to have a male friend in the mortal realms. People assumed the worst, and it wasn't like the boys had queued up to be the friend of a destitute girl. If they had any intentions with her, they were of physical desires – which Elain had fiercely denied.
With Azriel it was so easy. He made it easy to like him, to talk to him. For he listened with utmost attention, drank up every piece of information she had to offer and gave her the most inspiring stories in return. He had introduced her to the story of Nephelle, and Elain had felt inspired to get to know her self-proclaimed weakness of foresight. She went from thinking of it as a curse to a gift as she learned to control her power and helped prevent Fae and mortals from hurting, cities from crumbling and families from breaking.
After that, Elain had embraced her seer self – just like she had embraced Azriel's friendship.
It didn't take her long to realize that she wanted more, craved it, from Azriel.
To her misfortune the male was utterly in love with the Morrigan. It was clear in the way his eyes focused on her every step, how his shadows cleared whenever Mor was near him. To her defense, they also disappeared in the presence of Elain but she was sure he would not in the least feel the way she did. He had Mor.
That was the ultimate reason for her not confessing to him before now. Being stupidly in love with a male who didn't love her back was enough of a dilemma, she didn't need the male knowing of it.
But Azriel … he was so deserving of love. Sometimes she would look at him and feel like she didn't deserve him. For all the darkness that swiveled around him, he was one of the brightest lights to his family. To Elain. He had done so much for her, without even knowing. Without trying. And maybe that was enough of a reason for him to know how much she wanted him, how dearly she held him close to her heart.
Whenever she was sad and feeling undeserving of every good thing that came her way, he was there and cheered her up with his impeccable sense of humor, with his beautiful tales of light and darkness.
For he knew what it meant to feel broken and undeserving. As much as Elain wished he didn't, he knew.
And despite the obviousness of his feelings for Mor, the blonde female didn't seem to acknowledge them. Sadness overcame Elain at the thought of Mor being completely oblivious to Azriel's feelings. She would meet with her lovers and not even know of Azriel's tortured eyes or the agitated swivels of his shadows. He never showed them when Mor was around, obviously, but he didn't seem to mind Elain seeing them. After all this time he didn't seem to mind her seeing him react, feel.
But his love wasn't for her, and she would never be someone like Mor – radiant as the sun.
She would always be Elain, simple and lovely Elain, who was easy on the eyes but an even easier friend. Nothing more than a friend.
She had come to accept that Azriel would always love Mor and not her. As long as she could silently adore him and make him feel as appreciated as he deserved, she would take the brunt of an unrequited love.
“I'm never uncomfortable with you, Elain,” Azriel said now, staring at her with confused eyes and a slight frown. “And I like you, too. It would be a crime against all good not to like you,” he added with a quirk of his lips and softness gracing his hazel eyes.
Elain blushed but it was more out of frustration than of embarrassment. He didn't seem to know what she had really tried to say without actually saying it. She was in love with him, and her attempt of conveying exactly that had failed. Elain felt herself retreat into the shell of hers, where she kept her feelings hidden away in the shadows.
She shouldn't have said anything because next time – if she'd ever be brave enough to try again – it would take even more to get him to understand. To truly understand what was going on with her. What had been brewing underneath her skin and bones from the very first moment they'd met.
“So you'll go with me?” she mumbled, eyes still not meeting his.
Azriel touched her shoulder lightly before withdrawing. A small, simple gesture that was meant to be reassuring. Friendly.
“Of course,” he said and smiled. “Feyre would have me thrown into the sea if I let you go alone,” he joked but Elain blanched slightly.
Her attempt had so failed.
Such. A. Failure.
“All right then,” she uttered, turning back toward her flowers where they bloomed in her garden.
They'd been waiting just outside the river home for Feyre and Rhys to finally appear. Elain and Azriel were meant to leave within a few minutes, having planned to depart through Azriel's shadows.
Nesta and Cassian had already left at dawn, bickering all the while with Feyre's clearly annoyed frame wedged between them to winnow into the Autumn Court. Elain guessed her youngest sister was barely keeping herself from lashing out for them to stop arguing. Cassian and Nesta going at each other was one thing, but having them both snap with coupled force at you was all fire and fury.
Elain shuffled her feet now, trying to hide the uncomfortable feeling of having admitted your love for someone with them misunderstanding the whole confession. She could feel Azriel's confusion over her awkward silence but before he could address anything, Feyre and her mate came striding out of the house.
“Ready to leave yet?” Rhys casually made his way toward the two figures remaining in the garden, a gentle hand at the back of his mate. Elain thought it wasn’t an unusual view for them – to see Elain and Azriel together like that.
Over the months the flower-grower and the shadowsinger had somehow gotten inseparable. They most often found themselves sitting by Elain’s garden, sipping tea or walking through Velaris during the day or night – always together. It is what friends do, Elain thought chidingly. Friends spend time together.
After a few minutes of hugging each other goodbye and assuring they’d be fine, she turned to the spymaster whose shadows had already started gathering around them. Azriel cocked his head, a silent question to make sure she was ready, and Elain nodded. Sliding her palm against the hand he offered her, the scars and calluses of his hand tickled her senses and shot pleasant sparks down her spine.
Before they could vanish into the darkness, Feyre reached for Elain’s sleeve, stopping them.
“Make sure to head for the docks once you’re finished with the mission! They have the best fish I’ve ever tasted in my life,” the High Lady swore, making a smacking noise while rubbing her belly. She shot a knowing look at Elain then, winking as her lips lifted into a devilish grin. “Don’t miss out on the pleasures of this trip.”
Elain blushed furiously, hoping Az hadn’t caught on to the meaning of Feyre’s suggestive comment.
Rhys snorted and directed an indignant gaze at his wife. “Velaris has delicious fish, too, may I add,” was all they heard before Azriel stepped through the shadows with – what Elain thought was – an exaggerated sigh and brought them to Adriata, the castle-city of the Summer Court.
Elain could smell the change in the air instantly and hear the sound of seagulls above their heads. The Archeron and Azriel remained in darkness for a few seconds before he murmured an All clear and the darkness surrounding them dissolved – leaving Elain to squint her eyes at the sudden light greeting them.
Azriel’s shadows didn’t completely vanish, the shadowsinger keeping them on a close leash while quickly surveying the area with his eyes. They stood on a huge balcony of the High Lord’s tan stone palace – perched atop a mountain-island in the center of a half-moon bay.
Elain instantly liked the place – the breeze carrying the salt of the sparkling, turquoise sea, the sounds of waves crashing against the shore and the clatter of the city below. She surveyed the castle with wide eyes, and only noticed they weren’t alone when someone standing across the patio cleared their throat.
There stood a gorgeous male, with white and flawless hair surrounding his crystal-blue eyes – the exact same color of the sea. His dark mahogany skin almost glistened in the sun, while Elain sensed the trails of infinite power pouring out of every pore. This must be the High Lord then. Tarquin.
The High Lord of the Summer Court returned Elain’s curious gaze with a kind but reserved expression, inclining his head in a small bow once their eyes met.
“Welcome to Adriata, Elain Archeron,” he greeted her, eyes flickering to her silent companion. “It’s been a while, Shadowsinger. I am glad it is you arriving rather than the Commander of Night. I half expected to send out more rubies addressed to the Night Court. And lock all our newly restored buildings.”
Elain felt Azriel tense beside her and quickly stepped forward with a polite smile atop her lips. Rhys had filled her in on Cassian’s lifelong ban from the Summer Court, quite amusedly so, though she hadn’t expected Tarquin to address the issue in such a feline way – the High Lord seemed to have a wry sense of humor.
“Thank you for having us, High Lord. We are glad you accepted our request,” she began. “As far as Cassian is concerned: the Commander is currently on travels with my sister Nesta. You needn’t worry about the safety of your buildings, or your treasures for that matter.”
The High Lord of the Summer Court raised his brows in mild surprise, and after a moment … started to chuckle, much to Elain’s relief – having made a bold entrée with the referral to what had caused the initial mistrust between the Courts. Elain felt the tension flow out of Azriel, the male slightly calming at her side, making her relax in return.
“Call me Tarquin, seer of Night.” The High Lord inclined his head once more, though Elain could sense the sincerity in the gesture now. “And let me introduce you to my cousin Cresseida – Princess of Adriata.” He half-turned to the female standing beside him, all flowing white hair and beautiful features, too. The attractive Fae bowed her head at Elain, though her sparkling eyes remained on Azriel. She faintly smirked at the shadowsinger.
Elain immediately felt annoyance arise toward the Princess of Adriata.
“I believe you are already acquainted with Cresseida’s brother Varian,” continued Tarquin with amusement flowing in his eyes. “He seems to be enrapt by a certain Ancient One.”
The male, Varian, growled at his cousin, though it was only half-heartedly, he didn’t seem to mind the teasing of his High Lord. The Prince nodded in an acknowledging gesture at Azriel and Elain.
Truth be told, Elain could only agree with the High Lord of Summer. Whenever Varian visited Velaris, the purpose of his whole existence seemed to be revolving around the firedrake; Amren and Varian would not be seen for days, completely lost in each other. Elain couldn’t deny she liked the time whenever Varian was in town, for Amren was her most approachable when the handsome male was around – and once they deigned to join the Inner Circle.
Nevertheless, Elain and Azriel hadn’t traveled to the Summer Court for pleasantries. There was a task to be accomplished; they needed to make sure the mortals were all safe and adequately supplied.
Azriel and Elain, accompanied by Tarquin himself, proceeded to go to the camps. They’d been constructed for the mortals who had fled from the war and whose homes in the mortal realms were now destroyed – all thanks to Hybern and his armies. While several Courts had temporarily opened designated areas to displaced mortals, Tarquin had opened up all of Adriata to the humans. Yet most of them still seemed too scared to take him up on his offer and stayed to the tent city amongst their own kind.
Nonetheless, at seeing these people – they were genuinely at ease here albeit a bit wary – Elain felt excitement bubble up within her. Fae and mortals living side by side, the ultimate goal she and her sisters had devoted themselves to in the past few months after the war. Velaris had already opened up its borders for Fae and humans from all over the continent, but Adriata seemed to be just as ready to thrive from the alliance.
They saw Fae walking around the tents, talking to their human friends, and Elain gaped when she spotted children – faerie and mortal – playing and squeaking in joy. She grabbed Azriel by the arm then, pointing towards the showcase of trust and peace, feeling herself tearing up at the image. Azriel smiled his soft smile, the one she found endearingly cute, and watched the scenery with Elain by his side.
Given his reserved and closed off nature, Tarquin wouldn’t have been able to recognize what Azriel felt, though Elain knew. The shadowsinger enjoyed the mingling between human and Fae just as much as the Made female – going so far as to let himself be ogled by the inhabitants without fading into his shadows.
Quite the contrary, his shadows could not be seen during the time they spent in the mortal camps. Azriel forgoing his own shadows and the eternal knowledge they provided him, was a sacrifice Elain knew to appreciate. He was so obviously Fae, with his towering, dangerous-looking frame and the glorious wings – mortals were staring as it was. Many seemed to be extremely wary, even hesitant to go about their days after seeing the mighty Illyrian, with his many Siphons glowing the brighter for the increasingly heating sun.
As much as Elain was thankful for Azriel, trying to spare these people from being frightened of his shadows, she couldn’t help but feel sad, too. For Azriel was the kindest Fae she had encountered, and Elain had never been scared of him or his shadows. Much less of his gorgeous wings.
In fact, Elain realized, she had always felt drawn to the shadowsinger – with his scarred, beautiful hands and the stories within his eyes she so clearly saw from the very beginning.
The more they became acquainted with the camps, the more Elain was convinced that there was next to nothing they could do here. Adriata – and Tarquin – was kind to her mortals. They would be safe here, just as Feyre had predicted. And as they finally left the part of town where the camp was located, she felt as light and relieved as she hadn’t for a long time. Azriel seemed to be on board with her.
Tarquin having just bid them goodnight, they now walked through the High Lord’s palace toward their respective rooms. “We could talk to them tomorrow and see if they need anything else,” Azriel suggested, tugging on his lower lip with his fingers while in thought.
Elain adjusted the hand she had looped around his arm and averted her gaze from Az’s lips. It had become a habit for him to offer her his arm, and it always made her think of the very first day in Velaris when he had led Elain to the garden to try and bring her some peace.
“I talked to some of them today,” she mused. “They seemed well supplied. I don’t think there’s anything we could add.” With a shrug of her shoulders, Elain added, “And I don’t want Tarquin to think we don’t trust him with these people. The relationship between Night and Summer is still timid. Prying more than we need to might demonstrate mistrust, and that, we can live without right now.”
Azriel cast her a twinkling glance, while they passed several doors and turned into the hall with their rooms located right across from each other. Rhys had sent their bags of clothing a day prior to their departure and Tarquin had assured everything was accommodated already. So all Elain had to do was to throw herself onto her bed and sleep the exhaustion of the day off.
“I always knew you’d be perfect in matters of court politics,” he admitted, quite with mischievous fondness doing so. Elain blushed.
“Ah, you’re charming me, spymaster,” she hummed, squeezing his arm in playfulness, earning a private little smile from Azriel. Her heart leaped at the sight; he gifted those grins rarely someone who wasn’t her. Maybe Mor, Elain contemplated, though discarded the thought immediately, lest her heart would weigh down her chest after such a successful day.
“I am inclined to agree, though,” Azriel said, returning to the matter at hand. “We should trust Tarquin handling the situation. He seems to be making effort anyway.”
Elain recalled the beautifully organized camp, with its ornate tents and own little market containing fresh fish and vegetables. There was definitely effort there.
They had reached their rooms in the meanwhile, coming to a stop in front of Elain’s door. It had been quite the hot day in Adriata; despite her light clothing the pressing heat had left Elain’s skin sticky with sweat. She hoped to find a bath waiting for her before a well-deserved night’s sleep. Yet with her hand still around Azriel's arm, Elain frowned.
“Are we returning home tomorrow then,” she asked, silently cursing herself for finishing their task this fast, “since we’re done with the mission?”
Azriel faced the middle Archeron, her hand sliding off his arm. Elain’s fingers briefly brushed his hand – his scars – and a whiplash of heat surged over her body at his touch. Her skin was covered in goosebumps she tried to ignore.
Azriel’s brows furrowed, he scratched his neck. “We could, if that’s what you want.”
Elain felt herself deflate in disappointment. Did he want to go home already?
“I suppose we could,” she mumbled, not quite meeting his eyes. Azriel was silent for a few moments. Then, with slight nervousness caressing the tenor of his voice, “Or we could scout the city – see what Adriata really has to offer for a few days.”
Elain looked up in surprise and, what was impossible to hide, increasing excitement. “You mean like a vacation?” she asked somewhat hopefully. There was a mild blush high on Azriel’s cheekbones, Elain noted in delight. Endearing.
Azriel cast her a rather shy but still mischievous glance and nodded. “Like a vacation.”
Elain started clapping her hands eagerly, a bright smile blooming on her features. Seeing Azriel’s lips turn into his very own, very unique grin brought the blush to her face as well. She stifled the urge to run him over, and hug him down right then and there. Opting for a more calm and mature response instead, she folded her hands neatly in the folds of her peach-colored gown and stared up at the male through her lashes.
