#azriel lemon | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

prythianpages · 5 months

Text

ACOSM | The Night her Father found out her secret

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: angst, mentions of violence, blood, dead bodies

summary: the High Lord of the Night Court discovers his daughter's little secret. He does not take her sneaking off to train with the Valkyries lightly and decides to punish her for it.

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on them, you can find the masterlist for it here. I'm currently watching The Witcher and Yennefer is my fav character. the fact that she has purple eyes reminded me of Rhysand's sister so now I can't help but picture her as Val, hence me using her in one of the pics above.

The air buzzed with anticipation as they circled each other, eyes locked in fierce determination. Zeila, a seasoned Valkyrie instructor, initiated the first strike. Valeria, her dark membranous wings stretching proudly, deftly parried. Their blades danced in a symphony of skill and grace.

Despite Zeila’s experience, Valeria’s proved a formidable force. A quick succession of well-executed maneuvers caught Zeila off guard. Her sword fell from her grasps clattering to the ground but the warrior did not falter. With a grin, she unsheathed her daggers and Valeria did the same, throwing her sword to the floor.

They danced around each other, eyes sharp and focused. It was Valeria who threw the first strike, lunging forward with precision. She was at a disadvantage as she only had one dagger and Zeila two but she did not let this deter her. Zeila countered swiftly, her dagger slicing through the air grazing Valeria’s leathers, drawing a hiss of pain as it left a shallow cut on her arm. Undeterred, Valeria pressed on. Her keen eyes assessed Zeila’s movements, searching for an opening. When she found one, she disarmed her instructor in a swift maneuver. Before Zeila could react, Valeria had her backed against the training ground’s boundary, dagger gently pressed against her mentor’s throat.

A hushed pause settled over the training grounds as the surrounding Valkyries assessed the situation. Zeila’s eyes gleamed with pride rather than disappointment as she bore witness to Valeria’s skills and dedication that shined as bright as the full moon above them. She grinned. “Well done, Valeria.”

Valeria, panting but radiant, lowered her weapon in disbelief. The realization of her victory, not just in the spar but in the eyes of her instructor, overwhelmed her with a whirlwind of emotions. The look Zeila was giving her was one she had previously yearned to find within her father.

Zeila had taken her under her wing, not caring that she was the High Lord’s daughter. She saw her as Valeria, a girl with a determined and unwavering spirit. She understood that Valeria’s path to training was not a smooth one, given the tempest of her fate as a high fae. So Zeila devoted every opportunity to guide her and it was through her and the other Valkyrie’s relentless support that Valeria transformed. She, who once faced the storm, had become the storm itself. This training session was more than a physical exercise. It was a moment of growth and validation of all the years Valeria trained.

“Looks like someone brought you a gift.”

Valeria turned around, her gaze finding Tanwyn and some of her other Valkyrie friends. Her heart swelled at the small pastry, a lemon cake, in Tanwyn’s hand that was topped with two lit candles. One for each decade of her life. “Happy late birthday,” Tanwyn smiled.

“Thank you.” Valeria’s own lips curled up into a smile as she took the pastry into her hands. Noctis, who had been persistent in accompanying her tonight, squeaked in delight and returned to her shoulder.

Valeria pursed her lips, preparing to blow the candles but there was a sudden gust of wind. She watched as the flames died out, eyes widening in horror as a familiar cloud of darkness began to engulf the training grounds. It wrapped them in its cold embrace, prompting all Valkyries to draw out their weapons, senses on high alert.

There was a thundering sound and in the blink of an eye, a figure appeared that had the blood draining from Valeria’s face. Both her wings and Noctis’s began to quiver.

It was her father. He had found her.

The Night Court’s throne room was bathed in twilight. Tall, obsidian pillars, adorned with intricate carvings of celestial motifs, reached toward the vaulted ceiling. As Rhysand walked through the vast room, he couldn’t help but notice the delicate mist that hung in the air.

He came to a halt upon the dais, where his father sat upon his throne.

“Ah, Rhysand.” The High Lord greeted with a smirk, his violet eyes flickered with an emotion Rhysand couldn’t quite place. “My son.”

“You called for me?”

“Yes.” His father replied. “I was hoping Valeria would be with you.”

Rhysand frowned. He rarely ever asked about his sister’s whereabouts. “She’s with Cassian. They’re shopping for the upcoming Starfall.”

“Interesting.” His father said with a hum. He inclined his head slightly to his left and in that subtle motion, the air seemed to dance with translucent waves. As the glamor fell apart, a crestfallen Cassian came into view. “Cassian was just telling me how Valeria was at the library with Azriel.”

He then gestured his head to his right and from the shadows emerged Azriel, maintaining an unwavering composure that echoed stoicism. “But he has been with me all day.”

Rhysand shrugged yet the discerning gaze in his eyes subtly revealed a crack in his normally composed facade–a fleeting trace of concern. His powers reached out toward his friends and they let him in their minds, allowing him access to their thoughts. They mirrored his concerns but neither of them knew of Valeria’s whereabouts.

“Perhaps she is with Mor then.”

“Morrigan is in Velaris alone.”

“Then Mother–”

“Your mother has been in her room, working on dresses for Starfall. Also alone.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows furrowed and a surge of panic quickened his heartbeat. His hands instinctively folded together in front of him. “So where is Valeria?”

“I’ll tell you where she was.” The High Lord’s voice rang taut and rough and it was then that Rhysand recognized the look in his eyes. It was one of pure rage. “She was with the Valkyries.”

An eerie silence filled the throne room. Rhysand’s eyes were wide and he turned to his friends. Azriel remained stoic but there was an icy rage lurking within his eyes and Cassian’s fists were clenched at his sides as he glared at the High Lord. There was another haunting realization.

“Oh, you didn’t know either?” The High Lord’s voice carried a taunting tone, accompanied by an almost amused expression that played across his features. “Your little sister was sneaking off to train as if she were a Valkyrie herself.”

After another moment of silence, the High Lord spoke again. “Would you like to know where your sister is now?”

Rhysand’s throat tightened. “Where?”

The High Lord leaned back into his throne with a malevolent smirk that sent shivers down Rhysand’s spine. “Learning a very much needed lesson in Windhaven.”

As if following an otherworldly cue, the ground beneath them quivered and the mountains themselves seemed to shift. A low chuckle escaped the High Lord, his eyes gleaming in the face of such an overwhelming power, failing to recognize that it was not Rhysand who had made the Night Court tremble.

Valeria’s ears were ringing and her breath hitched at the sight of five heavily armed Illyrian males surrounding her. Her wings were taut, one of them curling inwards over Noctis, her dear bird. She had no weapons herself. Her dagger had fallen from her grasp at the Valkyrie’s training grounds and she didn’t have enough time to reach for it before her father had roughly grabbed her and winnowed them to Windhaven.

“You want to be a warrior?” Her father had seethed into her ear. “Go ahead then.”

He had pushed her to the ground in front of the hungry and malicious Illyrian males. “Have at her. This one needs to learn her place.” He had said before winnowing away.

She rose to her feet, eyeing each of them. She recognized one of them. He was the only one among them that bore no siphons. His eyes were cold and spiteful as ever. Mallory’s father.

This would not be a fair fight. She was outnumbered and unarmed but she refused to let the fear that surged through her body surface. She would not yield to it. She turned her head toward the bird on her shoulder, her eyes were pleading. Go. Noctis blinked back at her, his dark eyes twinkling with defiance. He refused to leave her side.

Mallory’s father was the first to step forward, a wicked smirk etched onto his face. The blade in his hand gleamed as it was directed toward her. “You thought yourself untouchable because you were the High Lord’s daughter but it is he who brought you to us. It’s going to be fun breaking you.”

“Let’s start with her wings.”

The one who last spoke was the one who lunged at her first. She dodged his strike with ease and grace and then kicked him, sending him crashing into one of the other Illyrian males.

“You will not take my wings from me.” Valeria snarled as she tucked her wings behind her and stepped into a defensive stance–one she learned from Cassian.

Mallory’s father chuckled. “You’re outnumbered.”

The four Illyrian males lunged at her, their siphons glowing. She punched, kicked and threw tendrils of silver light their way. Noctis flew from her shoulders, his beak piercing and pricking at their eyes to allow Valeria the upper hand. She didn’t scream as blades pierced her skin, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her pain.

Valeria managed to steal a dagger from one of them and swept it across his chest, sending the Illyrian male staggering backwards. “You bitch,” he growled before lunging for her again.

Distracted by the bleeding male before her, she didn’t catch the nod the two males approaching from behind her shared. She found herself pinned to the ground before she could even react properly. She squirmed and fought against their hold until a third male came from behind. One of them grasped her hair and yanked her head up, forcing her to look up at Mallory’s father.

Noctis let out a croak in warning as Mallory’s father approached her, flaring out his wings as he perched himself on her shoulder again.

“How embarrassing it must be.” Valeria choked out, blood trickling from her mouth. “To know that it takes three strong Illyrians, siphons and all, to hold me down.”

When the fingers digging into her pierced into her skin and Mallory’s father’s eyes flickered with uncertainty, she almost grinned.

“Do it now.”

She heard it before she felt it.

The haunting sound of a blade slicing through her wing. The blade drew back and it was then that the fear within her surfaced for a fleeting moment as she watched Noctis fall from her shoulder. He fell to the ground silently, blood trickling from the gaping wound at his throat. Her own blood began to splatter on the ground beside him from the wound in her wing.

She could not bring herself to cry or scream. She could not afford to at the moment so with an unwavering determination, she pushed all her grief and hurt away until only one feeling remained. Anger.

Her father thought her to be weak. He had taunted her, believing that she could not withstand the storm of Illyrian rage. But he had forgotten that she was a half breed. Illyrian blood coursed through her veins too. She would not fall victim to this storm. She would not falter. She would not yield.

She looked up, past Mallory’s father, at the night sky above them. The moon was full and shining brightly. It seemed to cast its ethereal glow upon her, sparking a feeling she had never felt before. Thirst for revenge. For blood.

The moonstone wrapped around her neck glowed intensely and her pupils flared, capturing the reflection of the full moon within their depths.

There was a scream and then the hold on her was faltering. She took advantage of it, pushing the three Illyrians away from her. She swore the ground beneath her trembled as she rose to her feet, gaze fixed on Mallory’s father.

Tendrils of pure and raging moonlight were snaking around him. They wrapped around his legs, his arms, his neck. They were burning and suffocating, clinging onto him as they anxiously awaited their master’s next orders.

“Witch.” She heard one of the males hiss under his breath.

Valeria allowed her silver tendrils to continue as her powers surged through her veins. She had never felt them like this before. So strong, so intense. It almost scared her to know what had been lurking within her.

The tendrils began to move over Mallory’s father. The ones at his neck snaked up and slithered into his parted mouth. She could see them glow from within him and she watched as he fell to the ground. Screams of agony escaped from the male as more of her light flooded into his mouth. He writhed on the ground while the other males froze in terror.

Mallory’s father fell silent and still as the tendrils of light that had swarmed into him were now surging out from his mouth and eyes. They rushed back to Valeria, slithering up her arms and she was surprised to find that they were warm and loving.

She turned to the remaining males with a wicked gleam in her violet eyes. Her silver tendrils were radiating from her glowing body. The male who had sliced through her wing and killed Noctis was the first to drop his weapon and run.

“Where are you going?” She called out, taunting him. “I was just getting started.”

Her silver tendrils whirled after him and Valeria took delight in the way they wrapped around the male’s ankles and yanked, forcing him to the ground. They dragged his screaming body until he was laying at her feet with such force that the rocky ground beneath cut through his leathers and pricked his skin. One of her silver tendrils brought forth the male’s weapon and Valeria took the dagger into her own hands with a thankful smile before hurling it toward the male and silencing him, the dagger tearing into his throat just as he had done to Noctis.

The remaining males growled at her, their siphons glowing so bright that they burst as they rushed at her, unaware of the beast they had unleashed within Valeria. She brought them all down one by one, using both the dagger and her powers.

When the last male had dropped to the ground, her knees gave out and it was only then that she released the scream that had been lingering in her throat.

Azriel’s heart was at his throat. He could feel everything she was feeling. He reached out toward that golden thread–that connection between him and Valeria–but he could not get a hold of her. He couldn’t reassure her as he did before. All he could do was feel her pain, her hurt and it drove him insane.

He desperately clung to that fine thread, urging it to lead him to where she was as he landed in Windhaven with Cassian and Rhysand by his side. His shadows were rushing from his side, diffusing into the chilling night.

“She’s close.” Azriel said as his shadows picked up on her scent. “The training grounds.”

A sudden, piercing scream followed his words. Its abruptness resonated through the cold Windhaven air, making their skins crawl and Azriel’s blood run cold. Valeria, Azriel’s shadows screamed in his ears.

A chilling and terrifying scene was before them. Five Illyrian males were strewn across the training grounds, their mouths agape–a telltale sign that they had died screaming. The scent of burnt flesh was strong and Rhysand’s eyes darted around them in fright. They all had matching injuries with the exception of one. Blood was seeping from their eyes and mouths and their exposed skin was marred by burnt marks while the one exception had bled out from a gaping wound at his throat.

“Valeria.” Rhysand breathed as he spotted her.

She was in the center of the dead males, hunched over on the ground as she hurled, her chest heaving. Her body was glowing so bright that Rhysand had to squint his eyes. He rushed toward her, dropping to the ground besides her as he heard Azriel and Cassian arrive.

Azriel’s shadows darted toward her, desperate to assess her injuries–to know how badly she had been harmed. His shadows were able to break through her protective light and Azriel’s knees nearly gave out as they returned to him and curled against his ear. Cassian’s eyes were wide and he moved to confirm that each of the males who had hurt her were dead.

“I didn’t mean to kill them all. I just wanted to hurt them, to scare them away but then something came over me.” Valeria’s voice was shaky and frantic as she sobbed. “They wanted to–my wings–Noctis–they–”

Rhysand let out a curse as he spotted the dead carcass of her beloved bird, his heart breaking at the sight. His touch was gentle and soothing despite the rage he felt within as he held her head in his hands, bringing her fearful gaze to his.

“Father–he brought me here–he wanted to–I was–I'm so sorry–I only wanted to–”

"Shh, it's okay."

Valeria’s cries and broken voice were soul-crushing. Azriel’s body was shaking and his wings prepared to take flight but Cassian, who sensed his intent, was stopping him. With a firm grip, he led Azriel to where Valeria and Rhysand were kneeled on the floor instead.

Rhysand’s eyes bore into Valeria’s. “You’re safe now.”

Valeria’s eyes continued to dart around her, her breathing ragged and uneven. Her tears blurred her vision but she could still make out the silhouettes of the dead bodies. She had killed them. All five of them.

“You’re safe now.” Rhysand repeated, pulling her trembling body into his arms. He rested his hand on the back of her head, pressing it to his chest to keep her from looking at the scene around them. “It’s alright.”

Yet the vulnerability in his eyes betrayed his words and as he locked gazes with Cassian and Azriel, he found that a shared sentiment of unease painted their expressions. This was the night the High Lord unwittingly forged three formidable enemies.

A/N: after writing this I feel kind of bad for making rhysand's dad so evil but I don't want to defend him at all in this au bc he's an asshole. anyway, it was kind of fun writing Val's powers and also her Illyrian urge to kill awakening in her. sorry there wasn't much Az x Val interactions. just one more imagine and we're done with the collection of Val's early life. I don't have the name up for it yet bc I wanted it to be a little bit of surprise but any guesses as to what the theme will be? 👀 i've left subtle hints lol

tag list: @justrepostandlove , @kemillyfreitas, @thelov3lybookworm

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #acotar #acotar angst #azriel angst #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand's sister #azriel x rhysand's sister #azriel imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x oc #rhysand imagine #cassian x reader #cassian imagine #acosm

223 notes · View notes

redbleedingrose · 5 months

Note

This idea popped into my head while making my coffee this morning. How do the batboys like their coffee? Do they like the specialty drinks or just a good cup of coffee?

I could honestly go both ways. Like some morning I just want a cup of coffee with some cream and sugar but some days I want a specialty drink that will give you a cavity by just looking at it lol

OH MY GOD!!! I LOVE THIS!!!

Coffee/Latte Orders of the Bat Boys and Vanserra Bros

Rhysand

I think it depends on the day but Rhys gives me Cold Brew vibes. He needs the espresso for sure with all his high lord activities! But he absolutely adds oat milk to it, because he does not want plain black coffee.

I don't think he likes the actual flavor of the cold brew, he def drinks it in the morning because he needs it to function, but later he would drink homemade caramel cappuccino.

And I think he wakes before you, so he will make you a cappuccino as well. He always sits himself at the edge of the bed, watching you sleep peacefully for a couple of minutes while sipping on his cappuccino, thinking about all the things he is grateful for, before leaning down to brush your hair out of your face and pepper kisses all over your face.

Once you wake up, and you give him his "proper kiss," he will leave you to continue his work, your piping cappuccino set on your beside table for when you're ready to start your day.

Cassian

Cass does not give me a cuppa joe kinda male. He likes his water and fruit juices and smoothies.

He drinks water throughout the day, especially because of the amount of training he does. He has one of those huge water bottles that has all the water he is supposed to drink in a day, and he carries it around religiously.

He def gets one for you and will check in on you throughout the day and remind you to drink your water, especially if you are behind on your water intake. He is the kind of male to make it into a contest between you two, just to make sure your competitive ass gets enough water.

He also appreciates putting strawberries, lemons, cucumbers, pineapples in his water so that the fruit can infuse its vitamins into the water.

And the smoothies are his morning meal. He adds protein powder, fruits, and greens into these and he loves them. He feels super refreshed by them, and will try to convince you (and his brothers) to give them a try, and they turn out to be pretty good when he makes them. If you attempt to make them, they kinda taste like grass in water.

Azriel

Az screams black coffee. He drinks his coffee hot, plain and simple. He uses this dark roast blend that is very traditional to the Illyrian mountains. His mother used to drink coffee like that, and I think it would remind him of her, and thus, he drinks his coffee black. He is proud of it too, smh.

I think it helps him poop, poor male is chronically constipated from stress

When he meets you, he teases you for adding milk and sugar to your coffee, but once he gets a taste of your coffee, he may or may not sneak in a sip or two from your mug when you aren't looking.

You both like to start off your days sitting on the balcony, steaming cups in hand with Az's wing wrapped around you to keep you warm, and you watch the sunrise together.

It tends to be really quiet in the morning hour, and it is a special time for you and Az to kinda soak in the peace and allow for your mating bond to glow as the bright as sun.

Lucien

Luc is for sure an oat milk chai latte girly pop.

He also appreciates a matcha latte here and there. I think he likes the earthy flavor, so if he is not feeling chai (which is very rare), he will go for the matcha. If he is feeling extra spicy, he will drink it iced.

I think the spice of the chai latte really brings him back to all the good times in his childhood, when Eris would sneak little five year old Luc some caffeine through the chai.

I think if Luc were to drink coffee, it would be a caramel apple flavoring that comes around only during the fall seasons in Day Court.

I feel like Lucien would be the kind of male who wants to support small businesses, so he would go to different cafes throughout the court to try their chai lattes and would bring you home a fresh pastry and warm coffee. It's especially fun for him when you wake up early and join him.

Eris

Er's coffee order is interesting and complex, just like the male himself.

He likes to drink Autumn-spiced mocha lattes. It is an espresso with steamed goat milk, chocolate, cinnamon, and other spices. It actually is incredible, and he gets it every morning with a warm almond croissant for breakfast.

He likes his goat milk. I don't know why, but he does. Fucking sexy ass weirdo

Later in the day, he will have a honey cream latte which is an espresso with steamed goat milk and honey. His afternoon drink is not because he needs the energy, but I think he likes to have a warm drink in between lunch and dinner.

You usually join him in the office, warm latte in hand with your own drink, and you sit together on his green velvet couch, his free arm around your shoulders playing with strands of your hair as you discuss your day and plans for the night.

When you're done with your drinks, you will take his empty mug back to the kitchens, but not before he kisses you.... and attempts to bite your cheek off.

he loves your cheeks, what can I say?

Masterlist which severely needs updating

#rose answers #acotar #acotar fanfic #acotar headcanons #rhysand x reader #rhysand acotar #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris acotar #lucien x reader #lucien acotar #lucien vanserra #rose rambles

175 notes · View notes

tadpolesonalgae · 5 months

Text

Mer!Azriel x human!reader: The Dregs of Tragedy

A/N: Something about writing Az as a creature other than Illyrian just makes him end up being so cold and cruel and I have literally no idea where that comes from?

Warnings: Bitta’ blod, Az saves reader in a way, you have an awful husband in this

Word Count: 4,970

-Part 2-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“If your husband hears you talking like that, he’ll string you up with the rest of them.”

You flinch at the imagery, but stay firm—were you even a fisherman’s wife without nerves of steel and a stomach made of iron? “I don’t care what you say. It’s barbaric either way.” Joanne shakes her head, hair pulled back from her face as the carving knife splits the fish’s head from its body. “It’s barbaric what they do to us, sweet lass. A sailor’s death will never be kind, but to be dragged below the waters by those clammy hands is not a fate I would wish on many.”

Quirk a brow, lips tugging up at the edges. “Would Hildebald be among those few many?” You ask, making the fishmonger’s wife shoot you a sharp glare.

“Do not ask me to speak poorly of him. The gods listen between breaths.”

“The gods lay back while we are beaten and bloody,” you say, carefully lowering your voice. “I fear them as much as you do, but I will not succumb to terror. Virtues protect me, I carry honour close and pray to valour for my husband’s safe return, but that does not mean I would be unhappy should he be snatched from my side.”

Joanne runs her eyes over you appraisingly, face carved deep with age lines, hair wispy and grey. “Listen closely, lass,” she instructs, “we have little power in what happens to us, don’t squander the hand you’ve been dealt, for many others would gladly take your place. Your husband works hard at sea, and has been parted from his gold to pay for you—and we all know your father put an unreasonable dowry on your head.” Her misty sea-foam eyes flicker about, on constant edge should the wrong ears catch the conversation. “Just be grateful for what you have, lass. Look to the skies and you’ll go falling over your own feet,” she hisses, a clear end to the conversation.

You open your mouth to speak back—just because he’s paid for you doesn’t mean he can bruise you bloody—but her watery blue eyes skip over your shoulder, just as a hard, heavy palm settles atop the skin, pulling you in close to a tall, strong body, trained and battered from the seas. “Fish for supper?” He asks jovially—it must have been a good sail. Turn into him, like a creature seeking protection from a vastly superior beast, tilting your head to peer up at your husband. “I got a fresh loaf from the bakers so I was thinking of a soup,” you say, pushing up onto your tiptoes to deliver a chaste kiss to his rough skin, coarse hairs scratching your cheek. “They even added in a fresh lemon to go with it all.”

Light, sharp blue eyes cut to you, something passing behind them that has your stomach sinking. “Of course they did,” he mutters, “it’s in their nature to covet another man’s catch.” He shakes his head, arm tightening around your ribcage almost painfully. “Joanne, you can accompany my wife to the bakers from here onwards,” he drawls out the order like he’s stood behind his ship’s wheel. He turns back to you, fingers stroking along the underside of your breast, eyes glinting. “A hag ought to even out the balance of your beauty,” he murmurs, and you attempt not to cringe as his hot, fishy breath fans across your face.

Instead you dip your head in a demure show of embarrassment, ducking away from the smell. “You find me beautiful because you spend your days at sea with only fish to admire,” you dodge the compliment like you’re expected to, the picture of humble grace. “I assure you, I am nothing much at all.” That seems to please him, squeezing you a little too tightly. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the town,” he says, greasy hand stroking your side. “That is why you are mine. I would not have picked you out if there was a better catch.”

You paste a shy smile onto your lips, tucking away a stray hair over your ear, gripping the wicker basket tighter.

The night will be unpleasant but blessedly short.

————

The surf is calmer today, fog rolling across the grey-blue landscape.

You shouldn’t be down at the cove so early in the morning, but you hadn’t wanted to sleep beside him for a moment longer. Desiccated, scratchy skin pressing to your back, a meaty arm pressed around your waist. So you’d come down to the alcove to clear your head, allowing the crips, salty air to clear your mind before the day ahead. Though sailors will soon be passing by, so you can’t afford to wait too long.

Release a heavy breath, staring out at the deep blue of the ocean, long since desensitised to the scent of brine and seaweed that makes inlanders cringe. The waves are slight, appearing almost still as you survey the view. Had it not been for the steady babble and crush of water, you might have believed the world to be frozen.

Your mind drifts to tales of the mer, stories told to every child to encourage fear and awe into their hearts. Of their cold and clammy hands, capable of pulling fully grown sailors from the docks should they stand too close to the edge. Of their damp, bluish skin, like an eel’s on their chest and arms, but scaled and sharp on their long, thrashing tails. Of their razor-sharp teeth, used to shred and tear at their prey before finally doing away with the catch.

But more than any other feature, folk melodies revolve around their deadly song. Said to be sung so sweetly it could lure any sailor to wish for his end to be at their cold, wet hands. To be dragged below the water’s still surface into their dark and murky layer, fed enough air to be kept alive and aware but never enough to resist as the flesh is torn from their bones.

You move forward, walking along the rickety platform, wanting to look down into the water at the end of the pier, despite the danger you’ve been warned about. The water is still high, but has already begun draining away, the tides lowering. You hum absently as you approach, an old tune that’s often strummed around celebratory bonfires, logs crackling and embers burning bright against the wet blues and greys of the sea-town.

Something catches your eye, ripples coming out from beneath the pier you’re stood on.

Brows furrow, and you walk forward quietly. Maybe a sea creature is hiding beneath the platform. A smile tugs at your lips at the idea—you’d like to see more of the animals when they’re alive instead of with their head severed into a slimy, bloody basket.

You lower to your knees as you come to the edge, muffling your steps so as not to scare it away, if there really is something there.

Peer over the ledge, gaze going to one of the two beams supporting the platform.

Eyes latch with coal black, ringlets of damp, silky hair curling over blue-tinted skin.

Lips part in a scream as you jerk back from the edge, scrambling away before it’s spindly hands come groping for your legs. Heart pounding, you thumb free the small dagger from a dress pocket, gripping it between trembling hands as you frenetically eye the waters below. Waiting for it to attack one side of the pier…to try and drag you under so it can feed on your flesh.

Breath clouds, tendrils curling from your lips as you tremble, replaying the depth of blackness in your mind, the deathly tint of its skin, the unnatural beauty of the lethal creature.

Nothing.

Utter silence.

Shakily, you get to your feet. Had you imagined it? There’s no way.

Heart pounding, you again make your way to the ledge, prepared to toss yourself back should its hands suddenly rise from the water. Swallow, gripping the dagger tight as you shift closer, enough to see a head of dark, slightly curled hair. No doubt the drying sea salt bringing out the waves.

Ease a shuddering breath as you again meet its eyes—charcoal black and utterly depthless. Designed to see in the deepest parts of the mighty ocean. That’s when you notice the tinge in the waters surrounding— him. It’s a male face. Dark lashes, smooth skin, cropped hair.

Eyes dart back to the sea, bleeding red around him.

You note the fishing wire that’s gotten him tangled to one of the beams upholding the platform.

He’s been caught.

Lips part in relief—he can’t hurt you. And yet— “You’re not singing…” you murmur to yourself, eyeing the soft-looking mouth of the creature.

Features coil, twisting themselves into something frighteningly fitting as lips pull back from teeth—dozens of tiny, shredding teeth, set in two neat rows with noticeably protruding incisors. You flinch back on instinct, but remaster your fear, reminding yourself he can’t move. Swallowing, you thank the gods for your iron stomach as you return to the edge. Dagger still gripped tight.

The wire has wrapped itself around his torso from what you can see—probably having gotten tangled first with the creature’s tail, then only constricted tighter as he tried to escape. Much like seaweed.

Brow tightens as the waves continue washing at the shore—the ocean’s draining. What will happen to him, if he doesn’t break free? His lips look dry now you’re peering closer, lines running beneath the stunning black of his vicious eyes. They can survive without being submerged in water for days, but the wire… How long has he been here for?

His mouth opens, and you freeze, tales of their deadly song returning, but instead of the painful melody you were expecting, what comes out is a rasping screech. Garbled and furious—a wet hissing noise, as if he’s seething his warnings.

There’s wire against his neck. Already slicing deep against the powerful column of his throat, stopping much of the noise escaping. You stare down at the creature, tangled and caught. A mighty beast that’s been stripped of any way to protect itself. You wonder if it fears or loathes the helplessness. Perhaps a little of both.

You peer into its eyes, the vicious fury contained within, like he’s already promising to repay the pain you’ll inflict on him tenfold.

Your throat rolls as you stare at him. He’ll die if you leave him—it’s a miracle of some kind he’s managed to remain undetected for so long, though you suppose not many people come down here. But what if someone else finds him?

A queasy feeling tightens around your throat as you imagine the tide sweeping out, gravity pulling the weight of his body down into those slicing wires, forcing him to rest in the tangle until the water returns to yield him to near weightlessness. But what if one of the sailors finds him?

You know what they’ll do. What they already do to the mer they catch. How they’re mutilated, then strung up in the air for the salty winds to whip at, for birds to peck at, slathered in fish blood and other small carcasses to draw creatures in. Sometimes fires are lit beneath their long, powerful tails. Slowly cooking them alive.

Hadn’t you been protesting against the brutality just the other day?

The mer struggles again, water rippling as he writhes, so certain he can break the man-made wire holding him. So desperate to do so.

You look around once…twice. Check no sailors have yet begun to pass over the paths that lead beside the shore. Slowly lower to your knees, gripping the dagger. Black eyes pick out the steel, and he thrashes more, hissing violently as his features are again carved into that picture of grizzly vehemence. Exactly how the stories have told them to be.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say clearly, slowly. If he’s smart enough to capture and kill fully grown sailors, he should have something to pick up on tone. Some kind of sense that will tell him it’s better to let you near than to go through with the fate he’s seemingly been dealt.

He hisses again, still baring those teeth at you, but he’s no longer struggling. No longer bringing the wire deeper into his body. It’s a good start. You just need to make sure he doesn’t grab you once cut loose. What a foolish way to go.

You breathe deeply as you move closer, reaching forward.

His muscles tense, tension tightening his shoulders as the blade nears him—it would be easy for your hand to drag the steel across his throat, but the very idea makes you uncomfortable. Watching murder happen and doing it yourself are still very different. You don’t think you could quite stomach that.

“I need you to keep still,” you say gently, clearly. If he makes a sudden movement with the blade so close… You slide it beneath the wire, placing the sharp edge to the restraints, pulling in attempts to get it to break. He hisses suddenly, and you realise it’ll be cutting into his throat so you change tactics, gently sawing until it snaps free.

The mer coughs, wet gasps being hauled down into no-doubt powerful lungs, spluttering as his gills spasm violently.

You can only allow him a little time before setting to work on the next one, further below the water, binding his shoulders tight to the post. Settle closer to the platform, aware of how his eyes silently track every angle of your movements. Whether to make sure you don’t attack, or to plan his own, you don’t contemplate. Just reach deeper, aiming for the next wire. Repeat the gentle sawing motions until that too snaps off.

A gush of relief washes over you as his upper body moves free from the bloody mess, but then he hisses and jerks back, pressing to the beam. His noise sounds strained instead of violent. A noise the product of lacerating pain. There’s most likely more wire tangling his tail, but— you can’t reach that.

The unearthly face tilts, dark eyes boring into you with urgency and— Great Gods. Hunger.

“What are you doing down here?”

You flinch at the rumble of your husband’s voice and the creature goes preternaturally still. As if he also recognises the sound. You could swear his skin leeches of the bluish tint, becoming colder and more translucent. The dagger drops from your hands, bouncing loudly on the wood of the pier. Settles at the edge, and you jerk away, turning to face the towering man approaching you.

Panic grips you as you spy a broad, pale blue hand rising silently from the water. Reaching for the blade.

You shift, angling your body to block him from your husband.

“I wanted to see if I could see the sea bed,” you explain hurriedly, managing what you hope is an appropriately embarrassed smile. “Sadly the tide’s in, so I think it’s too deep. Do you know when it’ll be out again?” You ask, trying to distract from the position he’d found you in. His brow narrows, heavy boots clunking over the rickety pier. “You shouldn’t be so near to the waters,” he mutters, moving forward and you hastily get to your feet, the dagger gone from the platform.

Bruising, meaty hands roughly grip your upper arms, forcefully turning you to face him. The smell of grease and hot fish washes over you and you fight your cringe. “Yesterday it was the bakers, today it’s the seas,” he mutters, “it’s not right for you to be this close to—” Follow the direction of his gaze, down to the edge of the pier.

He pushes you to the side, allowing him to galumph past, staring down to the post the mer had been tied to.

Watch his bulky silhouette as hands pull into flesh-beating fists, your bones already aching. “Is everything okay?” You ask softly, shaking your head to yourself. “I’m sorry for taking so long to make breakfast—I got sidetracked on my usual pathway. Let’s return home.”

He doesn’t move, the world silent save for the steady wash of waves at the shore. Your husband turns then, brows pulled into a hateful bunch atop sea-roughened skin. “Why were you peering into the waters?” His voice is low and blunt, eyes sharpening to glacial blue, regarding you with a hint of suspicion. You smile, “I told you, I was looking to see the bottom but the tide’s not yet out.”

Heart is pounding—could he have already known the mer was there? The bluish skin had almost drained, as if paling with fury.

Then he’s walking to you with intent, hands brutally gripping your upper arms, tight enough the bones trembling beneath his sailor’s grip. “Why were you peering into—”

Something gleams over his shoulder, grazing the muscle of his bicep as your dagger flies past, blood spitting onto the deck as the blade lodges into the wood. Cold blue eyes freeze, snapping from the weapon dug into the pier back to you. “That’s yours,” he accuses, lowly. “You set it free, didn’t you?”

“I don’t—”

His hand smacks across your cheek before you have time to prepare, the corner of your mouth stinging as something hot trickles down your chin. Lips part, raising your fingers to the drip-drop of blood.

“You set the damned thing free,” he rages, practically snarling with fury. Before you can do anything against it, he’s turning, gripping you so tight you’re afraid your arm will splinter. “Björn! Bertram!” He bellows, calling to the sailors that are no doubt beginning their morning routines. He’s muttering to himself, about capturing it again before it can get too far out to sea, dragging you along behind him.

You stumble, tripping up as you go, almost bumping into him as you’re roughly pulled back along the pier. He whirls on you then, backhanding you hard enough you almost careen backward. But his meaty hand is encompassing your throat, strangling tight as he pulls you close enough for his greasy, fishy beard to coarsely scratch your skin. “Stupid, foolish hag,” he snarls out, “you’ll be strung you and up cooked alive for that.”

Your stomach churns as you struggle, nails clawing at his knuckles, scratching deep enough to draw blood, more of it drip-dropping onto the rickety pier. You gasp for breath, rasping and clawing at his hand until he snarls, shoving you back. Tripping over your skirts, the back of your head smacks against the wood hard enough to have your vision blurring, white spots dancing through your view. Billowing grey clouds wash overhead, looking about to rain down.

Weakly, you push up from the damp platform, in time to see your husband pluck the dagger from the ground—what had tripped you up. Eyes flash with fury, flipping the hilt menacingly as he advances, drawing out the fear. You whimper, scrambling back until your hand slips over the edge, almost sending you tumbling into the murky depths. “I should have known,” he spits out, “there were whispers about your thoughts. I should have paid them more mind.” The dagger glints in his hand, so quickly turned to your own throat.

“I’ll take my time with you,” he mutters, “take the fingers that cut the fish free.” Flips the blade in his hand as he towers over you. Muscles coil taut, unable to move, unable to fight as the steel glitters beneath the overcast light. He moves to grab you—to take your fingers, to cut you up.

A deafening screech sounds, rasping and raw, then a pale blue shape leaps from the water. Jaws are unlocked to a monstrous angle, neat rows of sharp, flesh-shredding teeth bared as that giant tail thrashes with the force to propel him clean from the water. The muscled weight of the mer crashes into your husband, knocking him from his feet as he’s stolen beneath the water’s surface faster than you can blink.

The sea ripples in his wake, then calms to nothing, continuing to lap at the shore, hiding all traces of the deadly attack.

“Mer!” A bellowing voice roars, and your eyes are dragged to the beginning of the pier, two hulking sailors—Björn and Bertram—stood among the heavy, rolling fogs that have seemingly thickened out of nowhere. Their weighty boots thud on the deck as they begin storming forward, weapons gripped tight in case of another unseen attack.

Your heart beats in your mouth, fear and panic sweeping you under as you freeze with terror. You shift to move back, but have forgotten you’re already at the edge, hand slipping back over the ledge of the pier.

Eyes go wide, unable to scream as powerful, cold-blooded hands wrap beneath your arms, hooking over your shoulders and you’re dragged down beneath the sea’s surface. Water swallowing any trace of struggle as it seals overhead.

You thrash and writhe, hands shoving out as you try to free yourself from the iron grip of the mer that’s dragging you down to his sea bed. He turns you around, then cold, soft lips are settling over your own, breathing fresh air into your lungs. Tasting slightly coppery. You don’t question how it’s possible—they’re creatures of magic—just greedily gulp the extra seconds of life down as you feel his powerful body ripple with motion, muscle working as the large tail propels you deeper into the ocean, stolen away from the sea-town you’d grown up in.

Fear seeps into your blood as images of his tiny, shredding teeth flash through your head, the charcoal of his large, onyx eyes.

You should never have risked freeing him. He’s as cruel as the songs warn.

————

Spluttering as you break the surface of the underwater cave, your eyes ache from being squeezed shut for gods know how long.

Gulp down air to fuel your panic driven heartbeat, briny salt water stinging as tears drip down your cheeks. You quickly blink them away, unable to dry your eyes thanks to the cold water having soaked your clothes, down to the bone. His tail moves in strong motions, keeping the both of you afloat, yet he hasn’t bitten down. Mouth remains shut, as if waiting for you to ready.

Peel open your gaze, instantly latching onto his dark eyes, glittering black as he watches you silently. The oddly shaped ears either side his head twitch, looking like the webbed feet of some of the marine birds you’ve seen. Birds that have feasted upon mer flesh when it’s been strung up to be picked at.

As soon as you can manage, you’re trying to writhe away from the creature, but the stories haven’t done their strength justice. It’s like being held by stone, muscle as unforgiving as the cold, jagged rocks the surf crashes upon. Dread sets in, spiralling your mind as you thrash against his grip, desperate to spare yourself from the horrible fate of his gently prying teeth.

“Let go of me,” you plead, trying to squirm out of his hold, eyeing the hewn rock that makes up the underwater cave, seemingly being kept in an air bubble. Gaze returns to gleaming black in time to see as a transparent film blinks across his eyes, making you startle, yipping as you flinch away in horror. Teeth catch on the edge of your mouth with the recoil, reopening the small wound, courtesy of your husband, vision again blurring with the sting.

You struggle as he starts moving, but he’s pushing you toward the ledge of the rocky cave, not dragging you below—deeper into his layer. Breathing stutters as your back presses into the jagged rock, his blue-tinted hands spanning your hips, turning you around and pushing up from the cold sea. You scramble away so quickly you graze your knee on the sharp rock, splitting skin as blood begins seeping into your skirts.

Wince at the pain, but push as far back as you can, finding the stone now to be surprisingly smooth, as if carved away. Breathe heavily, shivering against the icy temperature of the submarine cave, hugging your limbs close by as the mer watches silently. Tears helplessly drip down your cheeks, teeth chattering as you try to put a stop to your crying. You’re a fisherman’s wife, for goodness sake. Were a fisherman’s wife?

Throat rolls as you push back into the smooth wall of the cave. “What did you do with my…with Alaric?” You manage through trembling jaws, lungs spasming with the cold.

The question appears to aggravate the mer, lip curling at the name alone. “He’s alive,” the male rasps, throat straining to create the syllables of speech. You stifle your surprise—yes, you’d known they could sing, but you’d assumed it was in some ancient tongue, fitting for their ancient species. Swallow down your fear, curling tighter in on yourself. “Why have you brought me here?” You manage, voice thick and scared even to your own ears.

He swims closer, resting powerfully muscled arms upon the rocky ledge, tail swaying idly behind him in the lagoon. It’s then you truly take in the cave he’s brought you to, kept alight by luminescent greens and blues, crystals lining the ceiling, the sea lighting up with every small movement, as if mixed with melted moon wax. Tendrils of breath curl before you in misty swirls, teeth chattering more as shivers wrack your body, not all of them solely from the frigid air.

“You saved my life,” he rasps, jaw resting atop his forearms as he watches you.

“So you trap me in a cave?” You manage, trying to fight off the feeling of your fingertips beginning to frost over. He merely blinks at your question, that translucent film sliding back and forth just beneath his lids. “So I saved yours,” he correctly neutrally, a hint of arrogance in his dark eyes.

Brows knot together in confusion as you stare at the male. “You—… You’ve trapped me.”

“Your husband would have killed you,” he rasps, cold eyes sharpening with what you can only assume is hatred. “I saved you.” You shake your head, unaware of your lower body. “You took him because you were hungry. It served your own purposes.”

Incisors glitter beneath the icy blues of the cave, gleaming as his lip curls. Extends his arm, cold-blooded fingers stretching out as if to grab you. “Shall I return you?”” You huddle close to the wall, curling away from his deathly touch. “I’ll freeze to death if you take me through those waters again,” you hedge. “Besides, you might change your mind along the way, and—” You cut yourself off, noticing the red of his tongue. Swallow, hoping it’s not left-over blood.

His ears flutter, noting your gaze, lips pulling back as he swipes the flesh-roughing muscle over gleaming teeth. “And?” He asks, quietly taunting as the edge of his mouth quirks. As if daring you to voice the dreadful tales of his kind. Your lips purse, instead turning your attention to trying to contain your warmth. The mer shifts, as if about to slide back into the water.

“Wait!” You call out, having him pause, glittering onyx eyes turning once again to your figure. “Where are you going?” You ask, unable to entirely keep the fear from your voice. “Away,” he answers in that still raspy, raw voice of his. “I’ll be back,” he adds with a croon, tail swishing beneath him, arms running through the water as if revelling in being reunited on friendly terms. Panic sets in—if he leaves, he might never return. Might very well forget about you entirely. Leaving you to freeze in a subterranean sea cave, rotting away with the grime and stale water, all alone.

“Why did you bring me here?” You ask frantically, not wanting to be around him, but not wanting him to leave either. You don’t want to die here.

Ears twitch again, watching you silently, observing like he’s waiting for a sign to show. He returns to the ledge of rock leading down into the freezing waters, again settling himself atop the hewn stone. “You know what he does to us. What you all do to us,” he rasps, close enough for you to pick out the still-healing slices on his throat. “You know how you hate us, and you know how they hate anything that does not hate with them. You knew how they’d hate you too. So why meddle?”

Skin prickles at the intense look he’s giving you, feeling as though judgement is being passed.

“I didn’t want your death on my conscience,” you mange, lips long numb from the biting temperature. He blinks slowly, the only shift in expression he shows, the rest of his features blank as a still day at sea.

“Don’t try to escape. You’ll drown yourself,” he rasps bluntly, pushing away from the ledge, returning to deeper waters. “Just wait. I’ll return.”

The mer swims to the middle of the pool, dark eyes gleaming. “Eventually.”

Then he’s swallowed in a flash of silver, darting away to one of the submerged tunnel openings, navigating his way out to open ocean. Stomach tenses, listening to the laboured heave of your breaths and the quiet hush of waves. Curl tighter into yourself, praying he returns before the warmth entirely leaves you, already unable to feel your legs or hands.

Teeth chatter in the quiet of the cave, leaving you to wonder how far below land you are.

How deeply he’s already buried you.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

Az Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x yn #mermaid au #mer!azriel #azriel acotar #azriel fic

307 notes · View notes

bluelancess · 3 months

Text

Untouchable | Elriel fic part 1/3

Summary: The inner circle is having one of their usual dinner parties, during which Azriel can't help but shoot death glares to Lucien across the table, Elain is the only one who manages to calm him down.

Tags: secret meetings, forbidden love, secret relationship

—————————

Read on AO3.

—————————

Chapter 1: This is falling in love in the cruelest way

The Townhouse was exceptionally quiet today, the only sound filling its empty walls came from Elain’s soft humming in the kitchen. It was a melody she had heard a couple of days back while strolling along Velaris’ farmer’s market. She thought it was sweet, sounded almost a little magical to her ears, she had stopped on her tracks to give her full attention to the street performers, marveling at the way their expert fingers played the instruments, and at how they could attract a large crowd after only playing a single enchanting note. She was most definitely not doing the song justice, but humming helped her keep her mind away from dangerous black holes that always threatened to swallow her whole, the same way baking and gardening did.

She was adamant on never letting her mind take her away again.

Ever.

Elain put the final touches to the delicious meal she was cooking for dinner, and cleaned the palms of her hands on the front part of her light-blue apron. Roasted rosemary potatoes, grilled chicken with lemon zest, honey and mustard, various vegetables she had seasoned earlier; broccoli, peas, a tomato salad with basil and olive oil.

Cooking kept her busy and occupied most of the time. And it filled her with joy to be able to be helpful in any way she could. Besides, today was one of the Inner Circle’s weekly dinner meeting. Rhysand made it almost mandatory, and considering everyone was busy doing their own thing nowadays, having an afternoon where they could catch up on everything else other than work-related subjects, was a refreshing change.

Elain had dessert finishing baking in the oven, a blueberry crust pie she was going to serve alongside some vanilla ice-cream and whipped cream, when Nuala and Cerridwen entered the kitchen, both walked as silently as a ghost would. It used to perturbe Elain at the beginning, them being so silent, but with time she had gotten used to their presence, their company.

“The table is set,” Nuala said. “We can finish up here.”

“Thank you,” Elain smiled at her, and slowly removed her apron. Cerridwen extended her hand towards her, so Elain could hand her the clothing item covered in flower. “Is Feyre still asleep?”

Nuala nodded softly. “She and the babe, both.”

Elain chewed on her lower lip, concealing the smile that had formed after picturing the image in her head. Feyre lying on her bed, Nyx resting on top on her chest, the tiny wings tucked in, his little chubby hands holding onto Feyre’s gown like he used to do when he slept in that position as if scared Feyre might put him in his crib as soon as he fell asleep.

“I’ll go change,” Elain told them both, “then I can check up on them.”

“We’ll clean up here.”

“Thank you.”

With that, Elain exited the kitchen, and took slow, soft steps towards the stairs. She had already chosen the gown she would wear for dinner. A lavender satiny dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, with hug shoulders, long slit sleeves and a cirde skirt that reached a little under her ankles that flowed when she walked, making her her feel like a real-life fairytale princess. It was her favorite dress as of late. She hadn’t worn it for other people yet, she was waiting for an special occasion.

This seemed like the right time.

Considering Az would be here any minute.

Just thinking about the Shadowsinger brought a wave of unbearable heat cursing through her, warming up her cheeks, her neck, her ears. She needed to learn to control herself, if she wanted whatever was going on between them to remain private.

Any time she stopped to remember they way Az had looked that one night he came knocking on her window at three in the morning, her whole body shivered, the memory carefully stored in a special place in her heart. It had been the night everything shifted, everything changed, for her. For Azriel.

No one knew about it.

No one could.

Elain had been awake twisting and turning on the sheets, as per usual since their moment at the Winter Solstice, that cursed night that some days, the bad days, she wanted to desperately forget. Forget the way he had touched her and made her light up with so much want, so much need… She had never felt so alive before. Only to end with him pushing her away, such a regretful look in his eyes, telling her that it had been a mistake. But then… there were the good days, those days were she thought about him and hoped, prayed to whatever had interest in hearing her pleas, to have a second chance. To ask him all the questions roaming her head. All the doubts eating at her.

She never imagined he was feeling the same way.

But then, as if he were almost as desperate as her, he’d come in the middle of the night, looking like he’d also had been tossing and turning, so many sleepless night catching up to him. She opened the window with her heart on her throat, and he whispered to her to come with him. Only for a moment. He begged with his eyes, a desperation that was so painfully palpable, Elain’s whole chest squeezed at the sight of it.

Breathless, she took his hand that night.

It was the first time he took her flying, just for the fun of it. They had made it a habit now. He would knock on her window, she would open it, and he would scoop her in his arms, kiss her brow and marvel at her laughs when he would take off, holding her close to him, showing her the sky. It was those moments, that made Elain feel like she was actually free.

Elain opened the door to her bedroom, and froze at the threshold, her brown eyes going wide, her traitorous heart beating so fast it reverberated in her ears.

Azriel brought his index fingers to his lips and it was pure luck she didn't scream when she saw him; sprawled on her bed, boots still on, his wings so big they barely fit the mattress. She licked her lower lip, feet glued to the floor. He looked at her like he wanted to eat her alive, and Elain’s cheeks warmed up. He chuckled, darkly, softly and motioned for her to come forward with his hand, she shook her head like she couldn't believe what he was doing.

After taking a deep breath, Elain quickly looked over her shoulder before closing the door behind her. She didn’t have time to give a single step, before Azriel got to his feet, and closed the space between them in two exact and calculated steps.

“You’re insane,” she breathed, lifting her head to look at him in the eyes, he was so tall, it never stoped amazing her, so tall, and so beautiful. Azriel hands went to her cheeks, holding her so gently as if he were scared to hurt her.

“I missed you,” he simply replied, lifting a shoulder, one of his thumbs caressing her lower lip, his face getting nearer to hers, she could almost taste him. After a couple of weeks meeting in secret, delighting herself with his company, Elain had realized that Azriel liked to tease her. So much. He liked to take things so painfully slow, until she was barely breathing and begging him to touch her, to kiss her, to give her everything. “Just thinking about the fact that I have to sit on that dinner table, unable to touch you for hours, was driving me crazy.”

Azriel left a phantom kiss on her right cheekbone, then moved to the bridge of her nose. Elain closed her eyes at the contact, savoring the feel of him. Her hands roaming him from his shoulders, down to the muscles of his chest. She loved the way his Illyrian leathers felt under her fingertips. She dreamed of the day she finally would have the opportunity to peel them off of him.

But she couldn’t. They couldn’t.

Not yet.

It was too risky, everyone would to know they had been together, their scents would mix, there would be no denying it. And although Azriel was usually cocky and confident when it came to the fact the he most definitely would win a blood duel against Lucien, she couldn't even fathom the idea of Az risking his life in that matter for her. Az kept distributing tiny kisses along her face, like he wanted to pain it all with his lips. It was certainly torture having to wait until they were finally free to fall into the lust consuming their bodies, their souls. But she was completely sure it’d be worth the wait.

“So you decided to cheat and get a little taste before dinner?” She asked, and he hummed, as he kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the right corner of her mouth. So soft, so gentle.

“Hmm,” he muttered, “I was actually hoping you wanted to skip dinner altogether.”

“Because that wouldn’t be suspicious.” He kissed the left corner of her mouth now, and a groan left Elain’s throat, Azriel ignored it and moved down to her jaw. “How long have you been here anyway?”

“About half an hour,” he replied, voice low, no more than a rumble, but she heard it perfectly, felt it everywhere. He kissed right under her earlobe and Elain bit her lower lip hard, tying to conceal the moan escaping her. “You smell so good.”

She melted against him the the words, reality crashing into her like a hard wave. Remembering where they were, who that house belonged to.

“Rhys could get home any minute,” she breathed, he groaned at the name of another male leaving her mouth when he was licking up the column of her neck, her hands grasping his uniform as if she needed it to remain standing. Cauldron, he was killing her.

“I don’t care,” Azriel replied, sucking gently at the sensitive, pale skin, his hands angling her head, exposing her neck just the way he wanted, the way he needed. “Maybe I should just leave a mark right here,” he whispered, and gently kissed right under her jaw. “Everyone can come to their own conclusions.”

“You wouldn’t.” She teased him, somehow, for some reason, the idea sparked something in her, something feral. She wanted him to claim her, to show everyone that she was his and he was hers.

That they had chosen one another.

Damn the consequences.

“Someday I will.” He told her, making it sound like a threat. He couldn’t hide the smile of surprise when she let out a breathy moan, as if she could just picture the idea in her head and loved it.

Elain was about to just grab his beautiful face, get on her tippy toes, and steal a long kiss from his lips, when Azriel stepped away from her, so fast she almost lost her balance. A knock on the door had her spine straightening, her heart jumping.

“El, are you there?” Feyre. It was her sister’s voice, still sleepy from the nap she had been taking with Nyx.

She turned around, the door was behind her, she had been pressed against the wood by Azriel's solid body. She swallowed hard, running her fingers through her hair, her face, her neck, she could still feel Azriel lips on her skin, the wet strokes of his tongue, the little painless bites. She was definitely flushed.

She looked over her shoulder, Azriel was nowhere to be seen, but in the corner of the room, right under the door that connected to her dressing room, a little shadow was peaking, sharp like a knife, as if getting ready to attack if she needed it to.

“Elain?” Feyre knocked again, and Elain forced herself to take one, two long breaths before turning the knob and opening the door.

“Sorry,” she told her sister. “I was about to change my clothes. They’re covered in food... you know, from cooking and all that.”

Feyre yawned, her eyes were glassy and her cheeks rosy from sleep, Elain tried to block the view of the inside of her rooms, just to be sure. But Feyre ignored it, putting one of her hands on her sister’s shoulders and going inside, to lay face first on the bed.

“Dinner smells so good,” Feyre murmured. “I’m so hungry the smell woke me up. Also, Nyx started to cry. He was hungry too.”

“You had a good nap?” Elain asked, her voice sounded strange even to herself, but Feyre didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary.

“Yes, I needed it.” After a beat, Feyre sat on the bed and looked at Elain, the relaxed look on her face from the last couple of seconds going away in a blink. “Actually, I came to talk to you about something.”

Elain took a couple steps towards her sister, sitting beside her on the side of the bed. “What happened?”

“I just spoke with Rhys, mainly to asked him what time he was coming home for dinner, and he mentioned to me Lucien is in the city. He came because he has some reports he need to give Rhys, and …” Feyre grimaced, she looked worried, almost guilty. “I know it makes you uncomfortable, so I told him to not even think about bringing him tonight before asking you.”

Elain couldn’t hear anything. Couldn’t breathe.

She hated this. Hated that cursed mating bond so much.

All she wanted was to be free of that male, but it was like he didn’t know when to give up. No matter how many hints she sent his way, or the fact that she made it her mission to stay as far away from him as possible. He wouldn’t budge.

She couldn’t understand how he could continue to pursue her, knowing that it wouldn’t get him anywhere. Lucien couldn’t be so naive to believe she’d change her mind with a couple of expensive gifts and awkward dinner parties where he didn’t even make the effort to see her, understand her.

But, even if she wanted to say no, this wasn’t her house. Not really.

It was her sister’s, and her mate’s. She was living there because they were kind enough to let her. Because they cared about her, yes, but that didn’t mean that sometimes, she wished she could have something that was entirely hers.

Just hers.

“Lucien is your friend, I don’t want you to not invite him because of me,” the words tasted wrong on the mouth, and the shadows slowly started gathering in the corners of the room, like steam from a boiling pot.

“Are you sure?” Feyre’s face changed, glowing, “You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to, I don’t want to ruin your night.”

“You won’t. It’s fine.” She tried to give her sister a smile. The truth was, at this point, after everything Feyre had done for her and their family, Elain was willing to do, to endure, absolutely anything for her sister. It was the least she could do.

No sacrifice seemed great enough. Not after everything Feyre had lost, suffered through for them. For her.

She could be an adult and enjoy one evening with Lucien. Put on a smile, pretend everything was perfect and delicious, and she was happy. Because she was happy. More than ever. She just had to remind herself that once the dinner party was over, and the guests went home, she could return to her little room, and maybe, just maybe, Azriel would be waiting for her.

And if he was, she’d ask him to take her flying.

Feyre threw her arms around her sister and kissed her temple.

“Everyone is getting here in fifteen minutes.” Feyre stood up from the bed and walked towards the door. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Elain closed the door as soon as her sister left, and rested her forehead on the cool wood. She felt the spymaster presence at her back, his eyes piercing, his shadows surrounding the four walls of her rooms like he wanted to keep her there, all to himself.

“Did you know he was on the city?” She asked softly, turning around to see him standing right outside her dressing room.

Azriel shook his head.

“Rhys ordered me to take care of other business today,” he replied, his voice lethal, scarred hands curling into tight balls, shoulders tense. She approached him, and softly put the pads on her fingers in his hands, willing them to relax, to open up for her and let her in, hold her.

“It’ll be okay.”

“I can’t stand it,” he groaned. “I can’t stand the way he looks at you. The smell—“ Azriel took her hands into his, closing his fingers around hers tight, the muscle on his jaw flexing.

“It’s not easy for me either.”

“Then let’s not go,” he looked at her like he wanted to whisk her away, show her everything, run and run until no one knew who they were. "Let's go somewhere else, just you and me."

“Az…” His name sounded so charged coming from her lips, like a prayer, a promise, the sweetest of secrets, something she only said when it was the two of them, alone. “We can’t.”

He let out a long sigh, and rested his chin on top of her head.

“Don’t ask me to be nice, then,” he said.

“I wasn’t going to.”

“Good.”

————————————

this is going to be a 3 part little one shot so enjoy <3

#pro elriel #elriel #elain x azriel #pro elain #azriel x elain #acotar #azriel #elain archeron

107 notes · View notes

vacant--body · 9 months

Text

stay with me pt 4

part one, part two, part three, part five

warnings: ANGST, graphic description injuries

✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖° ✧˖°

Something was wrong. Azriel didn’t know what, but he could no longer feel Ophelia as strongly on the other side of the bond. Her presence was just a flicker of energy, like a spark that refused to light.

“We’re moving in. Now.” He quietly growled.

Mor, Cassian, and Nesta had all deliberately disobeyed Rhysands instructions to not enter the Autumn Court territory without his permission. They would all surely pay for it.

But at this moment, he didn’t care what Rhysands punishment would be. He could cut off Azriels wings, set his hands alight, and throw him into the Sidra and he would take it. As long as he got Ophelia back. He was beyond grateful that his friends were risking their own lives and Rhysands wrath to find her too.

His shadows cast the corridor in front of them into darkness, snuffing out the fae lights lining the walls. They moved silently, as a unit. Quickly and quietly taking out any guards that they came across. What was more blood on Azriels hands? As far as he was concerned they were all complicit in this crime.

Gaining access to the Forest Palace wasn’t easy. It had taken them entirely too long. They had to wait for changing of the guard and had to slaughter their way through just to get in. It was messy and harsh, but they did it all without raising alarm.

Azriel led them through twisting and turning hallways, going farther and farther down into the lower levels. He didn’t know where he was going, it was just a feeling. He could feel that tug at the bond growing tighter and further down they went.

None of them questioned him, and thank the Mother for that. He wasn’t sure how he would respond. They all were calm and quiet around him since departing from Velaris, as if a single word would set him off.

He supposed it would. After departing the River House, he had flown out into the forest and taken out several acres of trees with his siphons before collapsing. He had been trembling, barely containing the anguish and rage that was crawling under his skin. It was nightfall before Cassian found him, telling him that they were leaving to find her.

Suddenly, the feeling in his chest exploded into a frenzying warmth, spreading across his body. Azriel halted in front of a small, dingy cell, and his friends stopped at his heals.

“What is it?” Mor whispered.

The metallic scent of blood was so overpowering that it almost masked hers. Almost.

He would know that combination of scent anywhere. Jasmine, lavender, and chamomile. With just a hint of lemon. Before it had calmed his wildest nerves. Now, it ramped them up, dreading what he would find in there.

In two strides, he was at the door. He grasped the lock on the cell and the faint blue light of his siphons illuminated the space. He barely heard the metal hit the ground as he flung the door open and rushed in.

What he saw would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Ophelia was slumped against the wall, hands chained above her head. Small, precise cuts littered her mostly naked body. Deep burn scars around her neck, wrists and ankles. The only thing that covered her was a red see-through chemise. No. The chemise was white. It was stained red. With her blood.

And Azriels heart stopped beating at the sight of the dagger embedded to the hilt in Ophelia’s side.

“Cauldron-” Cassian gasped, coming to stand beside him.

“Help me.” His voice was tight, despair laced in every word. Azriels eyes stung with unshed tears. No, he couldn’t do that. Not here, not now.

If she didn’t make it-

Cassian braced Ophelia up, mindful of her wounds, as Azriel broke the chains around her wrists. He stooped down and took her small broken form from Cassians arms, careful of the dagger. A soft, broken whimper came from the bloody mass that was Ophelia. It shattered his heart even further.

But she was alive, she was still alive.

“We have to get her back to Velaris.” His voice was raw, full of the promise of death and bone deep despair.

“Winnowing could move the dagger around.” Cassian responded quietly, looking down at her.

“We could take her to the Winter Court-” Mor started.

“No.” Azriel snarled. “She needs to be home, not in some frozen waste land.”

“But the risk-”

“I know the fucking risk!” He was starting to panic now. It was rising to the surface, the pressure building and building against his too tight skin.

“Whatever the decision, it needs to be made now. We have company.” Nesta hissed from the front of the cell.

“Go to them. I’ll meet you back at the River House.”

His shadows swirled around them, Cassian disappeared from sight, his brothers eyes full of sadness and quiet rage. He knew he would make them pay for what they did.

In the cold emptiness, he brought Ophelia closer to him. Praying to the Mother that she would make this, she had to make this. If Azriel needed anything in his life to go right, it was now.

Azriel swore to the Mother and to the Cauldron that when she had recovered, he would tell her everything. About his messy emotions, the feeling of how unworthy he was to her, and that they were mates. He was hers.

But oh, the Mother was cruel.

His feet hit the solid ground just outside the River House, the world swimming back into focus. Panting, he looked down at Ophelia.

His mate.

She almost looked like she was sleeping, if it wasn’t for the agonizing pain he felt on the other side of the bond. It was so intense that he momentarily swayed before reality gripped him by the throat. The dagger was no longer there. It laid several feet away in the grass.

The panic he had been barely keeping at bay finally bubbled over.

Blood was pouring from the wound, fast. Too fast. Gasping, he went to his knees, laying her in the damp morning grass. His scarred hands pressed into her side attempting to staunch the bleed, but it was no use. Blood seeped past his fingers, coating his hands.

Rhys. Rhys I need you.

“Phia? Phia, I need you to open your eyes.” He whispered.

“It hurts.” She whimpered. The pain he heard from her snapped something deep and vital in his head.

“I know, I know sweetheart.” Azriels cheeks were wet with the tears he had been holding back for weeks. No- years.

“Azriel?” Her eyes fluttered open, squinting up at him. “You’re here.” She sounded so relieved, he wondered if she thought this was a dream.

“Yes, Phia. I’m here with you. Now stay with me, help is coming,” He sobbed.

Rhysand!

She muttered incoherently, and it wasn’t til later til Azriel would realize what she was saying.

Stay with me.

The familiar scent of Cassian, Mor, and Nesta invaded his senses, momentarily taking over the smell of blood. He heard one of them cry out, felt their grief slam into him. But he couldn’t look away.

He whispered small encouragements to her, begging and pleading with Rhys in his head to fucking hurry.

Almost there.

“He’s almost here Phia. Just hang on.” His eyes swept down her body, examining the wound. It was ghastly, deep and jagged with infection just starting to set in. Mother, how long had that been in there?

He looked back up to her face and his gut twisted. Her eyes were shut, her lips unmoving. “Hey, hey! Do not shut your eyes. Please,” A painful sobbed ripped from the depths of Azriels chest. “Please open your eyes!”

“So tired.” She whispered, struggling to open her eye lids. “Az, I’m so tired.”

Hands suddenly replaced where Azriels were. Someone was talking, shouting at the others but he wasn’t sure who it was, and he didn’t care. Maybe it was Rhysand, or was it Feyre?

Moving carefully, he cradled her head in his lap. The back of her scalp was sticky with blood, the entire ground around them was drenched in it.

“Stay. Stay here with me.” He whispered to her, smoothing her hair away from her sweaty and sallow forehead.

“You’re my mate.” Azriel choked out in broken sobs. “Ophelia you’re my mate.”

She inhaled to speak, but her chest stilled

The bond went silent.

And Azriel screamed.

168 notes · View notes

princess-tulip-writes · 2 years

Note

Could you write a blurb with Azriel where the reader either hasn’t had sex or ha only had really bad sex so Azriel just shows them everything?! Love your writing!

“don’t worry, baby, i’ll take real good care of you.” he mumbled against the skin of your neck as his lips covered the area with loving kisses.

“what if i can’t cum?” you whimpered back.

azriel’s lips stopped moving, and his once closed eyes had shot open.

“why wouldn’t you be able to?”

you pondered on telling him for a moment, debating weither or not the topic of your past lovers and experience should be brought up at this second.

he shifted before rolling off of you and gently plopping down onto his side next to you. a scarred hand cupped your face softly, as if signaling you to turn your attention to him.

“hm?” he hummed, awaiting your answer.

you swallowed thickly at him, anxiety creeping into your throat.

“i don’t know.” you shrugged. “what if i just can’t?”

his brows furrowed at your lack of information. what was it that you weren’t telling him?

“are you a virgin?” he asked softly with a loving undertone to his voice.

you blushed at the question, and hesitantly nodded.

for a moment, you swore you saw a flash of love in his eyes, but it left as soon as it arrived. he cracked a small smirk.

“baby, that’s okay. i don’t mind at all.” azriel cood, his hand moved from the frame of your face and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “but, why are you worried about cumming? have you ever tried before and failed?”

your whole face heated up this time. sure, you’ve touched yourself before, and made yourself cum plenty of times, but everytime you tried to take the next step, and have sex with someone, they could never make you cum.

since you were a virgin, every male would try to rip one orgasm out of you before actually going inside of your tight cunt, just to make it more pleasurable for the both of you. but, every man failed. therefore, you would always call it quits after the hour mark rolled around and your clit was tired of being probed at.

at first, you assumed that the first two men were just very bad at making women orgasm, so you went to a dear friend of yours that you knew very well made lots of women scream out in pleasure.

but even he failed.

so, you came to the awful conclusion that you were broken and were going to die a virgin.

“i-i don’t know. i mean, of course i’ve touched myself, but-“ you couldn’t find the right way to put it without sounding crazy. “i don’t know.”

“come on, sweetheart. just use your words.”

your stomach leaped with arousal.

“i think i’m broken.” you whispered shyly, your gaze falling onto the ceiling above you.

silence fell for a moment, before he let out a chuckle.

“baby, i assure you, you’re not broken.” he smiled at you, a light hearted one. “why do you think that though? have you never made your self climax?”

he was persistent tonight.

“yes.”

he nodded. “good, see— not broken.”

you didn’t know how to explain your situation with him, without feeling judged. but this was azriel you’re talking about, not some random person. this was your mate. he would never judge you.

you took a deep breath before confesssing.

“no one else can make me cum. not even cassian.”

he erupted in a fit of laughter at the last part, just imagining the look on his brother’s face when he found out that he failed at making someone orgasm, had him almost crying in amusement.

you frowned. “are you laughing at me, azriel? please don’t.”

the softness in your voice caused a pang in your mate’s heart, immediately making his laughter stop.

“i’m sorry, my love. i swear i wasn’t laughing at you, sweetheart. i was just laughing at cassian not satisfying you, is all. he probably didn’t even think to try other methods other than one.” a smile still rested on his lips, but his words were laced with a sweet ambience.

you fell silent, contemplating if you wanted to go through with tonight or if you just wanted to curl in a ball and shrink.

“i promise, that i can show you many ways to feel good, darling. so many ways to make you squirm and your legs shake before i even put myself inside of you. i can make you feel so good…” he trailed off before his eyes flicked to yours. “if you’ll allow me.”

something in his voice had you convinced and you even felt a slight tug on the mating bond as he spoke. he was being truthful, you could feel that.

“okay.”

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel smut #azriel blurb #azriel x reader #azriel acotar #azriel lemon #azriel fic #azriel headcanons #acotar smut #acotar blurb #azriel x reader smut #a court of thornes and roses #azriel 🌷#the bat boys 🦇

548 notes · View notes

boldlyvoid · 2 months

Text

A Court of Seeds and Sight

Elain x Azriel

Summary: After 6 months apart, Elain sees the way Lucien looks at her new, healthy, body and it reminds her of her mother. The look of disappointment. The look of never being good enough. A reminder that she's spent most of her life letting others make choices for her. she decided in that moment that she's hand enough. While standing up for herself, Lucien suggests they dissolve the bond, letting her go free.

What happens when she's staying at The House of Wind to recover and the male she's dreamed of, the male she's wanted to pick for herself for over 2 years now, is there with medicine and goods to help her feel better?

Warnings: light fatphobia, severing a bond, made-up lore (i had fun making it up) hurt/comfort, the house of wind is my favourite character in this, First kiss, first times, oral sex (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, new bonds snapping into place, lovemaking, rough sex

Word count: 10.6k

She knew he was there the moment he walked into the house.

There was a little tug on the bond, the first she’d felt in 6 months now. Where Lucien lived in the human realm, as well as his visits to the spring court, both places brought him out of the bounds of their bond. She went most of the year without feeling him, having heard from him through her sister and her mate, but Elain hasn’t felt him.

And what a blessing that had been.

She has been working in gardens all over the city, bringing florals to the night court in a way that keeps their traditions in mind. She’s made hanging flower baskets for lamp posts, displays for windows as well as potted trees and bushes on the street. Bat Orchids, black Dahlia, Persian lily, and Dark Dimension. Black and blue and purple roses. Hollyhock and Hellebore. All darker flowers, but the feeling is still the same. She wanted to bring life and beauty to the city that changed everything for her.

When she’s not in the garden covered in dirt… she’s in the kitchen covered in flour. Both activities include help from her favourite fae.

Azriel, ever the traveller, albeit for work, was always bringing her back either a packet of exotic seeds or a new recipe from a cafe or hotel he visited. She’s planted everything, either in her greenhouse outback or in little pots scattered around the house. She wanted them to last, and the best way to do that was to keep them in their desired environments. Food-wise, he mostly brings home recipes for pastries and baked goods. Only a few times has there been a savoury dish, which she made for the whole family for dinner, upon Az’s request.

The tug on the bond pulls her away from her baking, she’s working on lemon pastries. A fluffy, puffed pastry with lemon filling and a delicious icing drizzle on top. She makes them in a variety of flavours, this one happens to be Azriel’s favourite.

“Can you watch these for me? Take them out if I’m not back when the timer goes,” she asks Cerridwen and Nuala. They both nod, knowing where she’s going, as they also feel everything going on in the house, stronger than she ever could.

She makes her way towards the main entrance, wiping her hands off on her apron, she’s only going to greet him because it’s right. It’s a nice thing to do. She doesn’t like him more than an acquaintance, he’s her sister's work partner… he’s important to their court but not to her heart. And she feels awful about that. But she’s heard the stories, she knows that not all bonds are happy. Most of the people she’s met have horror stories about how much their parents hated each other, but the bond needed them together to procreate. Because the cauldron knows what offspring will change the world. Like Rhys himself, his parents were not meant to be, but the world needed him.

She could put up with Lucien, she could tolerate him. She just couldn’t imagine sharing a bed or making children with him. He may be her “soul-mate” but he is not her type. He was not the male she would willingly choose if she had the choice.

“Lucien,” she smiles at him.

He looks her up and down, taking a step back to do so. But it’s not in the usual way he looks at her. He’s taking in how much she’s changed in the half a year he hasn’t seen her.

She’s put on some weight. For the first time in her life, she has had the luxury to do so. Eating well, lounging in the sun, reading in her room and cuddling with her nephew. She’s not working out like her sisters, she doesn’t have a job that requires her to be able to kick ass in a moment's notice. She’s done what she’s always wanted to do; put a little meat on her bones. And she loved it.

“What?” She asks, slightly offended.

“Nothing… I’m just surprised,” he explains, unable to stop staring. “You’ve… changed.”

And it’s not the good kind of staring. His eyes are sharing with her more than she would ever hear leave his mouth. This isn’t the fae he’s been imagining in his daydreams these last few months. His look is one of disappointment, wondering why the Cauldron would match him with someone he’s also not attracted to.

“Need I remind you that I own my body, it’s not for you to ogle or have an opinion about,” she spits, feeling the fire in her blood, having never related to her older sister until this very moment. “I never wanted this stupid bond, I don’t need your opinion of me. I’m happy, I’m healthy and I’m blessed to be able to reach this size, so if you don’t like it… you can fuck right off.”

She honestly can’t believe those words just left her mouth. But she stands a little taller, glad that it did.

He can’t believe it either, “the apple doesn’t fall far in your family, does it? I never even said anything and yet you were ready to pounce on me like a wild animal. Like that human side of you is still perfectly intact.”

“I understand we have to keep things cordial for the court, however, if I never had to see you again it would be a day too late,” she continued without a second thought. “My sister and the high lord need you and your alliance, I understand that perfectly, but I am not a pawn. I am not here to keep the peace. I trust you’re a good man, that you can keep up the alliance even if things between us aren’t good.”

“Then let’s get this retched bond removed then, shall we? The last thing I want is to be shackled to someone who could never even give me the courtesy of pretending to love me,” he spits right back.

“We can do that?” She asks, shocked she never knew it was an option.

“We need a priestess and a few days rest, but it can happen,” he explains. “Do you have a preferred priestess or shall we just walk into the nearest temple and see who’s available?”

“I’d prefer Merrill a the House of Wind.”

Knowing she’s a strict witch of a fae, from Nesta’s stories, there was no one else she wanted to sever this, no one else she wanted to deal with Lucien than her.

—

Rhysand and Feyre winnowed them in, having spoken to both of them about the risks of separating the bond as well as what this would mean for the court. Lucien agreed to stay emissary, his only request was that he stay in another house, paid for by Rhysand when visiting and that they meet there or at the house of Wind for meetings, so he didn’t have to see Elain again. They understood perfectly.

“We’ll be back in an hour,” Feyre explained, a hand on Elain’s arm, wishing her luck. She simply gave her sister a smile in return, showing she was ready, albeit a little nervous.

The happy couple flew off after that, leaving the others to start their quiet walk to the temple inside the mountain.

Merrill meets them at the door, pissed off as usual. She blinks at them, arms crossed, “I have cleared the temple for the next hour while we do this, no matter how much it stings or the emotions you are feeling, the male must be gone when the hour is up. This is a safe space for the priestesses who live here, I am not ruining it for them. No matter who you are.”

“I understand,” Lucien agrees, no real fight left in him.

Inside the temple, they walk past rows and rows of pews towards the front, where a rock is draped with a light blue silk runner and topped with two cups of tea and a book.

“Do you know the risks?” Merrill asks.

They both nod, having learned from Rhys that severing a bond wasn’t a difficult act, it was the after-effects that were the most challenging. They could feel sick, possibly emptying the contents of their stomach and unable to consume more. The headache from losing the bond can be anywhere from an annoyance to mind numbly painful and there is a chance they could slip into a year-long melancholia. Sleep helped, but not by much as the cauldron often retaliated with terrible dreams that would keep them up.

They were both willing to do whatever it took to get rid of this thing.

“Are you absolutely, 100% sure, you want to dissolve the bond?” Merrill asks, staring them down. The stone above her hood shone in the faelight. Glaring at her. This was real, this was serious, and there was no going back.

Elain nods, “Yes, I’m sure.”

“I just want her to be happy,” Lucien shares, solemn and defeated.

“Alright,” Merrill just pushes through. “Join hands. I’m going to say a couple of prayers, then you’re going to drink the tea and you’ll feel it happen. It can be painful, like holding a metal wire as it snaps, it can whip you as it ricochets.”

That made her swallow sharply, she wasn’t sure she was ready to hurt again, but if it meant freedom— then the hurt would be worth it.

Taking Lucien's hand in her own, it feels weird to touch him for the first time since they were bonded by the cauldron. It starts the moment they grip each other's hands, she has no idea what Merrill is saying, it’s in the old language. It sounds beautiful, but she has no idea what it means. She can feel it, there’s a hum that rushes through her and

She’d never experienced an earthquake before, and yet the way her body shook during the prayer had her concerned that it was not just her rumbling. It feels as though the whole world is reacting to the bond being severed. She tries her hardest to keep a brave face, standing on wobbly legs is difficult, however, the shaking stops as soon as the prayer is complete.

Merrill hands them each a cup of tea, allowing them to stop holding hands for a moment. Pulling away doesn’t feel as intense as she expected it to. If him simply leaving a room used to make her heart ache, physically separating should’ve felt more intense. The prayer essentially numbed the feelings. The tea would snap the bond. The priestess continues her chants while they drink, all but chugging the warm liquid down. It tastes very earthy, almost as if she was drinking bark and dirt… she never even asked what it was before they did this.

They both look disgusted as they bring the cups down, staring into each other's eyes, unable to hear the other's thoughts but it was evident. That tea was gross.

They wait for Merrill to finish her prayer and then it happens.

The snap isn’t as intense as she expected. It feels like walking through the woods and tripping over a root. It pulls from the earth and breaks against the ankle, leaving a welt, but nothing more. No sprain, no twist, just a slight ache. She’s able to walk away from it.

She looks at Lucien once more and there’s nothing there. Her heart doesn’t flutter, her mind doesn’t race… she simply looks at him the way she would look at a stranger on the streets. He’s just there.

“How do you feel?” Merrill asks.

“Fine,” Elain answers while Lucien bows his head.

“Terrible,” he whispers. He reached up to hold his temples, “what was that?”

“Olive tree bark tea,” she explains. “Olive trees are a distant cousin to ash trees. it’s not as potent or deadly, it gets the job done.”

“Can I leave now?” Lucien asks, turning away from them the moment Merrill starts to hum in agreement.

She doesn’t hurt at all. Her heart is fine, her head is silent… she’s just empty.

“Thank you, Merrill,” she gives the priestess a small smile. “I appreciate you taking time out of your day for this. Is there anything I can do to repay you?”

“I’ve heard rumours that your family recovered the harp. In my previous research, I was developing a theory that there are multiple universes stacked on top of one another, upwards of 26 universes, actually. I heard the harp has 26 strings. I would like to study it. Can you put in a good word with the High Lord and Lady for me?”

She nods, “I’ll see what I can do. That sounds very interesting, I’m sure they’d want to know more about these other universes as well.”

“Be well, I’m doing the dusk service tonight if you need anything, you’re welcome to join us,” Merrill shares a rare smile and then she leaves, heading off into the back rooms of the temple.

Elain starts the trek back to the balcony, where she’s meant to meet Feyre for her ride back to the river house. Lucien is staying at the townhouse, he’ll be leaving with Rhys first. She’s given him more than enough time to leave by now. But she doesn’t want to. Leave that is.

She sighs, resting a hand against the wall, “Would you be alright if I stayed here for the time being?” She asks the house.

In response, the lights flicker down the hallway, telling her to follow. She follows their lead, all the way to the bedroom she used to occupy when she first arrived in Velaris. Only it’s different, it’s brighter. There are plants and flowers on the tables, hanging from the veiling and vines wrapped around the 4 poles of her bed. Speaking of, the sheets are a beautiful pink, soft silk and topped with the fluffiest pillows. There’s a book on the bed, beside a tray of chocolates and a bottle of her favourite wine.

“Oh, I love you,” she swoons, holding her hand over her heart. “This is the most beautiful spot to recover. You are so wonderful to us.”

The house simply sent a warm breeze her way, wrapping around her face and shoulders as if to hug her.

Within seconds, she can hear footsteps approaching her room and she knows it’s her younger sister by the way she floats down the hall. She stops at the open door and smiles, “You’re staying here, correct?”

She nods, “how’d you—

“You dislike nothing more than feeling like a burden, here you can recover alone with the help of the house,” Feyre smiles, knowing her too well. “I packed you a few outfits, mostly sleepwear because I don’t expect you to leave the bed for a while. I will be here in 3 days, waiting in the entryway around mid-day, if you’re there I’ll bring you home. If not, I’ll give you another 3 days. Send word if you need me.”

“Thank you,” she reaches out to take the suitcase but the house handles it for her. Taking it with its magic, the house puts everything away and sets out a fresh set of sleepwear on the bed as the bath starts to run in the other room.

“You’re in very good hands,” Feyre approves. “I love you, and I’m proud of you, I hope you know that.”

“I know,” she smiles back. “I’ll see you soon.”

Once Feyre is gone, she closes her bedroom door and heads right to the bathroom. Her book, chocolate and wine are now on a little side table near the bath. The bath smells of roses and jasmine, the bubbles float over the room as they escape the tub, the lights are dimmed, and everything is perfect.

She strips, gets into the bath and just sighs. “I expected to feel awful,” she shares. “I just feel free.”

Her glass is filled with wine then as if the house is telling her to just lay back and enjoy the freedom. So she listens, she takes the wine in one hand, the book in her other, her eyes raking over the summary.

It’s a romance, one she knows that either the house loves or Nesta does, either way, it’ll be raunchy and delicious. The main character is a florist, she has just escaped a terrible relationship with a man who didn’t appreciate her. Thinking she’ll be alone for the rest of her life, something unexpected blooms with the man who delivers her orders once a week. She hums, it sounds quite interesting, so she flips to the first page, takes a sip of her wine and settles into freedom.

—

Before she knew it, the bubbles and wine were gone, and the bath water was still warm thanks to the house, as she reached the middle of her book. Hours pass, her body is pruned from the water and limp from how relaxed she’s become. She sighs, “Can I have a bookmark?” She asks The House.

On the table by her empty wine glass, a clear, acrylic rectangle with dried flowers trapped inside appears. Around the flowers are gold flakes, her name is engraved into it with gold. It’s beautiful. “Thank you.”

She gets out of the tub, and dries off with a beautifully fluffy towel only to walk naked back into her room to don her silky underclothes and slip into bed. “May I please have some soup… something creamy and hearty?”

Then, a beautiful creamy soup appears on a tray on her bed. She stirs her spoon around, noticing the bits of broccoli, shredded carrot and cheese and cubed chunks of potatoes. All her favourites. And then she notices the bowl, it’s a crusty sphere of bread hollowed out to hold the soup. “Thank you, this is exactly what I wanted.”

She devours the soup, peels apart the bread bowl and savours the remnants of the creamy soup on the crunchy bread. It’s life-changing, she feels full and warm, happier than she has felt in a while. A little drunk from that whole bottle of wine, however, the bread offsets it. The tray disappears once she is done, and her book reappears on the bed. Candles are lit around the room, the curtains are still open to let in the last of the daylight while the faelight over her bed brightens just enough for her to read.

She’s another 3 chapters in when there is a knock at the door.

“Come in?” She says, unsure who would be home. Nesta and Cassian are in Illyria training younglings for the next week.

The door opens slowly and quietly, the shadows bellow at his feet and she knows instantly. Her best friend has come to check on her.

“Az,” she smiles. “I didn’t know you were back tonight?”

He smiles right back at her, “I went to the river house, I left the new seeds I found in the greenhouse. Nuala told me where you were…”

“I’m okay,” she assures. “It didn’t hurt. Did you know they used olive tree bark in a tea to do it? Apparently, it's in the ash family, it’s not enough to maim but it did the trick.”

“I did not,” he looks instantly worried. “I did, however, bring you something…”

“Come in,” she beckons him in closer. Closing her book and resting it on the bed, she pulls her sheets up over her chest to keep her modesty and watches as he sits on the edge near the end, resting against the post.

“I went to see Madja,” he explains, pulling a few things out of the inside pockets of his jacket. “This is the same headache powder you gifted me, well, a new one, but the same kind. And these are ginger candies, they’ll help with any nausea you may feel. Have you eaten?”

She nods, “The House made me some lovely soup.”

“Good,” he nods, looking down at the bottles in his hands with a smile. “I’m going to be sleeping here tonight, you know where my room is?”

“Just above mine,” she points upstairs.

“Exactly… ask the house to make my lights flicker 3 times and I’ll know you need me, you don’t need to leave the bed if you don’t wish to,” he explains. “I’ll leave these here. You should get some rest.”

“Thank you, Azriel, I really appreciate you.”

His smile is remarkable, “this is what friends are for.”

His shadows leave the room first, leaving him to place the bottles on her night table and saunter off after them. As soon as the door is closed again, she waits to hear him retreat upstairs but it’s impossible. He’s so quiet, he stalks around like a cat on the prowl no matter where he is. So after enough time has passed, when she knows she’s alone again, she sighs. “He’s so… wonderful.”

The house blows a wind that shuffles the pages of her book to what she expects is a random page, only it’s not. The love interest brings the main character flowers she doesn’t sell in her shop, something exotic and new just for her to behold. For no reason other than he wishes to see her smile. And suddenly she gets it, why the house picked this book for her out of the entire library both private and the extensive one below them.

“There is such a remarkable light cast upon him,” she swoons. “It’s no wonder he’s followed by shadows.”

A second book appears on her bed.

‘Bonds, Mates and Why The Cauldron Fates Them.’

She’s quick to pick it up, flipping towards the first page, she starts to read as fast as she can absorb the knowledge. She should’ve looked for a book like this long ago, should’ve asked questions about bonds and how they come to be and how they dissolve. She always just assumed it would be there until one of them died… she never wished that upon him, never once. She just assumed that was how it would end.

Turns out, the cauldron makes such bonds either because it knows the union will be fruitful, that the children they’d bring to this world will be of great power or importance. Children like Rhysand, he was born to be a leader while his parents could barely stand each other. Meanwhile, Cassian’s father stepped out on his bond mate, doing the foulest thing a male could do to a woman and creating one of the most important warriors to grace the world in the last 5 centuries.

The bonds aren’t set in stone, while they can be wonderful and loving and everything two faes could ever dream of… they could also be awful. Like Lucien’s own mother and father. Beron is an awful man, controlling and mean, it’s unknown if he’s abusive but from the stories told. The atrocities that he’s committed, it’s not a far stretch to consider that he hurts her. The Lady of the Autumn court is strong, she’s stayed put and dealt with what the cauldron forced upon her— even in those 10 years she was with the Lord from the Day court. She stayed, she raised her children and she’ll be free when Beron dies.

Maybe that’s why Lucien let her go. Why he would suggest dissolving the bond rather than dealing with it for the rest of time? Sure, he was already close to 500 years old, he could live to be 500 more and he was not going to shackle her to himself the way his father did to his mother. She needed to find a way to thank him. Maybe in a century when they got over this, she’d send him a fruit basket. Or a new fur throw.

The more she read, the more she understood.

It’s not unheard of for someone to have 2 bonds in their lifetime.

After the death of the first mate, a second bond can snap into place. It’s happened to young widows and widowers alike, bringing them a second chance at happiness for the rest of their time here. Other situations in which a bonded couple gets bonded to a 3rd fae are more unlikely, but it still happens. Polyamorous bonds are rare to come by, seen only once or twice in a millennia, they can include upwards of 5 fae, at least in recorded history. She couldn’t even imagine how that would work.

There was still hope for both herself and Lucien. He could get another bond, he could find his true soulmate out there… or he could just love someone and be loved the way he deserves to be loved without a bond. It’s not the end all be all. Maybe he’s meant to be with Vessa? Or Vessa and Jurian… they all live together most of the year, and he loves them quite a lot. Anything could happen now that he’s also free.

Bonds snapping into place at first sight is common, that’s what happened with herself and Lucien. Others exist your entire life and you don’t know until the snap reverberates through you, like what happened with Feyre and Rhysand. He knew it longer, he could always feel her out there, it wasn’t until she started to fall in love with him that she began to understand what it was. That the bond was meant to be there. They were meant to be.

Nesta and Cassian had a similar situation, the bond lingered from their first meeting and became stronger on the battlefield when she called after him. Grew more powerful after that first kiss when he thought he was dying… it wasn’t until she accepted it, until she announced with her whole being that she loved him, that it snapped into place for good.

Azriel’s never had a bond. He loved Morrigan for centuries to no avail. He slept with countless fae… he’s gotten close to Elain herself, so close she thought he would kiss her. So close she could smell how much he wanted her. Only for something, or someone, to scare him off.

Rhysand didn’t often go into her mind, it was typically Feyre who did. Often to share gossip or wish her goodnight from the other side of the river house. But Rhys was in Azriel and Cassian’s mind often. Barking orders, sharing jokes and simply catching up. He loved his brothers, but he loved his court more. She suspects that’s why he was so… so official while speaking to her and Lucien this afternoon. He was willing to do anything to keep Lucien in their good graces, to keep him as emissary.

What wouldn’t he do?

She puts the book down, breathing heavily as it all hits her. He only called their almost kiss a ‘mistake’ that day because Rhysand was in his mind, telling him to back off, so that he didn’t have to pick between Shadowsinger and Emissary when the fight for her hand officially broke out. Because he would always pick his brother, he just didn’t want to have to.

“How long after breaking a bond can another emerge?” She asks, watching as the house flips the pages of the book to the near end. The light shines on a specific paragraph more than the others and she knows she has her answer.

Within moments of a mate's death, a new bond could snap into place. It’s happened in recorded history a handful of times, usually during war. A male would pass and his female, working in the infirmary, bonds to a wounded soldier. A female passes from sickness and her mate, standing beside her lifelong friend at the funeral, bonds to the only person who loved her as much as he did. Sometimes the second bond is stronger than the first, sometimes it’s the more important bond. The first mate was to teach a lesson, the second was for a lifetime of happiness.

She feels her heart in her throat, her breathing still heavy, her thoughts racing to all the possibilities. Was this why she was so drawn to Azriel? Why she never bonded with anyone in all his years? Why it didn’t hurt when the tether snapped on her end, unlike Lucien's instant pain?

Before she can even register it, she’s up and moving, out of the room and down the hall. Up the stairs and around the corner. The house makes the lights flicker, drawing Azriel out of his room in an instant, and having them meet in the hallway.

She keeps walking until they’re millimetres apart. She places her hand on his chest and looks up into his dark and stormy eyes. “Tell me the truth.”

“About?”

“Why was it a mistake?”

“You know,” he breathes. “The seer always knows.”

She just smirks, “I will not talk down about your high lord… but sometimes he’s a royal pain in my ass.”

He just smirks, “he spent centuries perfecting that quality.”

She lets out another sigh, being this close to him just feels so right. Like there’s a magnet pulling her towards him. “Please tell me you feel it too? I don’t want to skirt around it for months like my sisters did.”

“I’ve felt it for almost 3 long years now,” he whispers, his voice so low it reverberates through her, going right to her core.

“Tell me about it?” She requests, “I want to know your mind, I want to know how you think. Walk me through it.”

He picks her up then, making her squeal slightly, “I will tell you in the comfort of your bed, where you should be.”

Around the corner, down the stairs, through her hallway and into her bedroom. The books have been removed from the sheets, and more candles have been lit while the lights have been dimmed down low. He places her on her bed, waiting for her to pick a side before getting in himself, “where should I start?”

“What you felt when we first met?”

“I thought you were so strikingly beautiful when I entered your house the first time,” he explains. “Like Cassian, I already knew I would do anything for Feyre’s family, but the way I would kill for you… that scared me. I hadn’t felt so strongly about a female in— maybe ever? I loved Morrigan, I thought she was beautiful. She is beautiful. But you, you changed everything about how I feel. I was noticing the beauty in everything after you, I was stopping to sniff flowers and following scents on the street just to bring you a baked good just so I could see the joy on your face. There is nothing I love more than seeing joy on your face.”

She blushes hard, “I feel the same about you. Making the recipes you bring me, showing you how the seeds have bloomed into flowers, those are the best moments of my life.”

“Even in the worst moments of my life, all I could think of was you,” he whispers again, almost afraid to admit that. “When you were taken, everyone warned me I might not make it back. They thought it was a suicide mission… I knew I would get you back, if not for me then for your sisters.”

“I have never experienced Rage like I did during the war,” she shares. “Kicking that beast off you, feeling your blood on me, it scared me. what I could do if you died.”

“I think I’m pretty indestructible now,” he teases. “I’m not going anywhere on you.”

“Until you have another accident in the middle of nowhere,” she pushes back. “I’m never going to ask you to not be the spymaster, but I will ask that you always, always make it home to me.”

“Home?” He asks as if he wants to know where that is.

“we could get a little tent and live in the woods for the rest of our lives and it would still be a home because you’re there beside me,” she assures him. “But I was thinking… I love the river house. I love my friends and the kitchen and my garden. I’d like to be there every day, no matter where we end up living together.”

“I can ask Rhys if I can build a home on the property, a little 2-story house, just big enough for us, so you can walk over there every day,” he offers. “I have more than enough funds to build a castle, too, if that’s what you prefer.”

She just smiles, “We can live in the townhouse, or maybe even the house of mist until it’s ready… I have a feeling if the bond snaps into place, we’re going to be just as bad, if not worse than the others.”

He laughs, that beautiful hearty laugh she doesn’t get to hear often. Not unless they’re alone or everyone is drunk… before he can reply she sighs, “I love you. I really do.”

A blush creeps up his face, “I love you. More than I can explain, I love you in ways I never thought possible for me.”

“It’s possible and it’s happening,” she whispers, moving in closer to him. She cups his cheek, staring into his eyes. “I’m just so glad it’s me.”

“Me too,” he whispers back, a thickness in his throat that lets her know there are more emotions buried behind his stern exterior. “Can I ask… can I ask what happened that made today of all days, the day that you decided to leave him?”

“He looked at me… and I saw that same look my mother used to have. You see, I never had the privilege of being my own person, growing up. I had to stay skinny, I had my eyebrows plucked and my hair had to be long and I wasn’t allowed in the garden because pretty girls don’t get dirty. When she died, I had 3 years of peace. I didn’t go to as many balls, I wasn’t interacting with the princes and dukes she wanted to marry me off to. It was just me. And I put on weight. Just a little, enough to not see my ribs and round out my face. But it was a weight that I chose to gain. It kept me warm, I liked filling out my dresses. And then we lost all our money and I went back to starving.”

She watches his face as he catches on, he looks her over, “You’re so healthy now, you’ve just made yourself even more beautiful, somehow. As if that was even possible?”

She gives him a little smile. “I know, and not in a conceited way. This is how I prefer to look. I like having strong arms from carrying around bags of soil and heavy cement planter boxes. I like having thick thighs and a tummy and I like that my cheekbones aren’t as striking anymore. I love looking in the mirror and seeing myself now. Because I got to make the choice to look like this. I get to wake up every day and make choices for myself.”

“And the bond, it wasn’t your choice.”

She shakes her head, “it reminded me of my mother. She always wanted me to marry well. And what’s better than a male who’s the heir to not one throne, but 2?”

He sighs, “I wanted to tell you there were more choices out there. That you didn’t have to suffer through it.”

“I have words for Rhys when I get back,” she assures him. “He watched not only his mother but Morrigan, get pawned off to men who didn’t love them. He’s seen the hurt first hand and yet he wanted me to stay with him, to endure a loveless life, simply so He could have a better connection with the human queen. I don’t know if he didn’t realize it, or he's so used to thinking of the greater good that my happiness wasn’t on his radar, but it hurt. It hurt to see both my sisters so happy in bonds they chose, with males who love them, while I didn’t.”

“I snapped at him that night, after our almost kiss. I never thought it was fair that there are 3 of you and 3 of us and yet only two from each family got to be happy.”

“I’ve felt that too,” she admits. “I never wanted to try and make it work with Lucien. I was just going to be cordial with him until the time came when I had to have his babies or… and I never wished for this, but I knew he’d pass away at some point and I’d be free to love someone for real.”

Before Az can even validate her feelings, she continues. “And then he showed up today, I felt his presence and I went out to greet him and he looked me up and down the same way my mother would. I could read it in his face that I was no longer the female he dreamed about, I wasn’t the same fae he envisioned all these months he was away. And something snapped in me. That fire that lives in both my sisters just spewed out and I lost it on him.”

Az smiles, “yeah? I heard the house almost shook.”

She shakes her head with a smile, loving when he teases her. “In that moment, I only thought about myself. For the first time in my life, no one was standing in front of me to protect me or talk for me or anything. For the first time in my life, the words I needed came to me and I said them. I didn’t want him. I had never wanted him. I was put into this body against my will, I was bonded to him against my will and I was suffering for it… and I thought about all those seeds you brought me. How they were never meant to be here, most of them have never been in the night court, even clipped in a bouquet. But I managed to grow them, give them life, feed them, protect them and help them flourish. I wanted to flourish, too. So the second he said we should get the bond dissolved, I jumped on it. I had no idea it was a possibility, either it was kept a secret from me or it just hasn’t been done in so long that no one thought to mention it— either way, I wanted it. We did it. And now, I’m free.”

“And you always will be free,” Az assures. “Even if we don’t bond, even if this pull that we feel for each other is just love… I shouldn’t say just. Love is so powerful on its own. There are millions of couples in this land who love each other without a bond. I want to love you for the rest of my life, in whatever capacity you want from me.”

“I would enjoy being Mrs. Shadowsinger,” she teases, making him laugh as he pulls her in close. She tucks her face into his neck and breathes him in, “If we don’t have a bond, I still would like to have a huge, disgustingly expensive wedding. I want everyone in the world to know I picked you. That it was my choice to pick you, it was my choice to let my heart keep loving you the way it desired to.”

He soothes his hands down her back, kissing the top of her head. “It feels like a dream… hearing you say all these things.”

She pinches him, making him roar as he slightly shoves her away. Elain giggles, so abundantly happy it’s pouring out of her. “See, you’re awake.”

“And you’re a menace,” he retorts.

She pushes him so he’s flat on his back and straddles his hips, looking down at him, “I have dreamed about teasing you like this for years now. Making you blush, reminding you how loved you are, making you feel so happy that your shadows turn pink.”

He laughs, “We could try.”

“I want to kiss every part of you. I want to know every scar and freckle and tattoo. I want to know your body as well as I know my own… but we can’t tonight.”

He understands, “Are you feeling okay? Headache or nausea? Are you tired?”

She shakes her head, “I haven’t taken the contraceptive tea since I was a human… since I gave my maidenhood to my previous betrothed.”

He takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, “And you haven’t bled since becoming fae?”

She shakes her head, “I never really had them as a human either. Madja said that was likely because I was so underweight, now that I’m healthy, it should happen in a few months.”

He nods, “so tomorrow, or the next day, when you’re feeling up to it, we’ll go to the apothecary and get what you need.”

“Aren't they open all night?” She teases, making him smirk. “I’m kidding, we can go tomorrow.”

Just then, a steaming cup of tea pops up on her night table. “Oh, mother?” Elain stares at it and then back at him. “Is that—“A warm breeze brushes past her, a silent yes from the house. “Is it from Nesta’s collection?” Another breeze. “How fast does it take effect?”

A book drops on the bed, turned to a page that starts with the world ‘instantaneously.’

“She is amazing,” Azriel compliments.

“My sister?”

“No– well yeah, but,” he laughs. “I mean The House.”

“How do you know they’re a she?”

“The way they take care of us, the motherly touch, the love… no male soul could compare.”

The house takes the book back, leaving a chocolate that Elain knows to be his favourite in its wake.

“Do you have a name?” Elain asks, now sitting against the headboard with the tea in her hands, “I always want to thank you, but I don’t know your name.”

Another book appears on the bed, the title of the book is ‘Nameless.’ It’s a book about creatures who’ve lived on this earth so long that memory fails to recall their names.

“So take some time, look through all the books in this house and pick a name that suits you. You have the choice now,” Elain explains. “Pick a name and we’ll make sure everyone refers to you as such.”

More candles are lit around her room, and rose petals are on her bed and around it. The curtains are drawn, the fire roars in the corner fireplace… and they’re suddenly alone.

Elain chugs her tea, drinking down every single last drop, he sighs once it’s gone and passes the cup to Az to place back on the night table. “I’m nervous.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “But… I’m more nervous for a bond than the lack of one.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know how to ask for a week off,” he teases.

“Well… we could just stay here, have the house lock the doors knowing Rhys can’t winnow in, we just don’t have to leave for a week.”

His eyes get darker as he crawls over her, resting between her legs, holding himself up with those deliciously strong arms of his, he looks like a feral animal about to pounce. “I like the way you think.”

“Go easy on me?” She whispers, visibly nervous now. “I’m practically a virgin again, it’s been so long.”

“Don’t worry,” he assures, leaning in to press a kiss to her cheek and then her nose. Her eyes close and he takes a moment to kiss both eyelids. “I’m going to treat you so well, my love.”

She blushes, “are you going to kiss me for real, or what?”

He balances on one arm, cupping her face gently, he watches her close her eyes as he brushes his nose against hers. She feels as if time stops, she’s frozen in anticipation for what feels like forever until his lips are on her.

It’s then that the magnetic pull becomes something more. Stars explode behind her eyes, she wraps her arms around him so tight, pulling him flush against her body as if she can’t get him close enough. Their souls become one, she is his and he is hers.

He wraps his arm under her, pulling her in just as close. Her legs wrap around his hips, pressing his groin flush against her heat. His lips part, introducing her to his tongue, she hums into his mouth, not yet confident enough to moan… his hand slips down from her cheek, over her breast, noticing the hardened peaks of her nipples. He palms them, trying to entice more noise out of her.

She’s heard from her sisters just how sensitive the Illyrian wings are, so she reaches up, running her fingers over the silky membrane as seductively as possible, making him shiver… he grinds against her, hard in his sleep pants. That’s what makes her moan against him. Knowing she’s contributing to his pleasure, that he wants her just as bad as she wants him.

She brushes over his wing again just as he pinches her nipple between two fingers, moaning in tandem this time. He kisses the side of her mouth, along her jaw and down her neck, leaving her to pant as she stares at the ceiling. This is real. This is happening. She has Azriel in her bed, soon to be inside her, too. Her whole body heats up at the thought, wetness pools between her legs and within moments, Azriel’s kisses become nips and sucks, his tongue and teeth on her neck, leaving marks as he feels down her sides towards her hips and pulls her up against his hardened cock once more. He grinds against her, slow yet forceful, showing her exactly what is to come.

“Az,” she whines, face pink as her sheets, she can’t believe how needy she feels and so fast. “Please? Touch me, please? I need you. I need to feel you. It’s been too long.”

He smiles against her, fiddling with the hem of her sleep shirt, “can I take this off you?”

“Gods, yes!”

He sits up on his knees, pulling her forward, he slips the top off of her and tosses it to the floor. She lays back down and she watches his eyes rake over her makeup upper half, “sweet mother…”

“Your turn,” she breathes. He looks at her confused so she sits back up, gripping his shirt in her hands. “I want to see you.”

He simply grips the front of it and pulls it, tearing it off his back, she hears the sound of the seams ripping and the cotton tearing before the fabric is chucked on the floor beside her shirt. She presses her hand to his bare chest instead, the tips of her slightly chilled fingers running over his heated abs, down towards the tuft of hair leading down and disappearing under his pants. “All of you,” she adds.

“You first,” he interjects, getting her to lay back once more, she lifts her hips as he starts to tug at her bottoms, freeing her from the fabric.

He’s quick to kiss her stomach, spreading her legs before she can make him take his own pants off to make things even. He kisses her all the way down, over her mound towards her hip and then the crease where her leg meets lip. Breathing her in, his eyes roll back in his skull, “fuck,” he groans. “Can I? Please?”

She nods as if her head is on a spring, dying to experience this. She’s read about it, dreamed about it… she all but pushes her hips against his face as he drags his tongue along her sex. She moans, back arching off the mattress, she grips her breast and allows him to continue however he sees fit.

He kisses her most sensitive spot, sucking on it gently before lapping up her wetness, sticking his tongue deep inside of her to gather it all up. His nose bumps her clit as his shadows come up to play with her. Black swirling smoke circles around her breasts like mini tornadoes, playing with the hardened peaks of her nipples, she drops her hands to her sides, gripping the sheets for dear life as she feels him everywhere.

In the 2 years she’s been left with just her own hand and imagination, it’s never been this easy for her to feel her climax approaching. It usually took a while, multiple imaginations, moving positions, adding more fingers… but Az, tongue deep inside of her for this short amount of time, has caught her stomach aflame. The heat spreads through her whole body, the blood in her veins feeling like molten iron on a mission. She reaches out for his hair, holding on tight as her climax rips through her. She’d never been so loud in her life, letting go, feeling it all so intensely, she didn’t even care to try and be embarrassed, not when she looked down between her legs to see that beautiful smirk on his face, the shadows clearing out once again.

“Holy fuck?” She says between gasps for air, feeling as though she just ran up all 10,000 steps to this house.

He just laughs, deep and lustful, “I didn’t know that word was in your vocabulary.”

“It’s reserved for moments like this,” she teases right back. “When I’ve been thoroughly fucked by the best lover in the world.”

“Don’t let your sisters hear that, I can’t imagine the fight that would break out trying to compare us all,” he teases, returning to his knees. His cock hard as a rock in his pants, he starts to push the fabric down, freeing the monster.

“Please, don’t mention my sisters when you’re that hard,” she groans. “Gods… I’m going to be impaled on that thing.”

He laughs again, maneuvering out of his pants, they end up on the floor with everything else. He gets as close to her as possible, grips his cock and rests it over her, allowing her to see just how deep he would be able to get. A shiver runs down her spine, “You really do have the biggest wingspan…”

“Hey, don’t talk about my brothers when my cock is on you,” he says through a smile, clearly just saying it to even the score.

She just shakes her head, laying back, still worn out from that first orgasm, “Mother almighty, please make it fit.”

“It’ll fit, especially now that you’re nice and relaxed. That’s the key part, you stretch better if you’re relaxed,” he explains, pulling back. “It might be easier if you’re on top, too.”

“and that doesn’t hurt your wings at all, laying on your back?” She worries, sitting up as well.

He shakes his head, “No, they’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” she smiles, reaching up to take his face in her hands, she pulls him in for another kiss. Missing the way his lips feel against her own, tasting herself, she knows it from her own curiosity, she hums into his mouth.

Her hands slide down his chest, over the trail of hair leading to his cock. She grips it at the base, letting him bite her lip in surprise before she starts to stroke him. She pulls away enough to look into his eyes, “what’s more sensitive?” She runs her thumb over the head, gathering the precum that’s been leaking since she had her legs wrapped around him. “This or your wings?”

“I don’t know,” he breathes out, deep and dark, his eyes going basically all black, blown out with lust for her. “The only being who’s ever touched my wings is the healer…”

“Well then, I have some experiments to do later,” she assures, letting go of his cock before taking him too far. “Lay back for me?”

He nods, listening to his lady.

Resting his head against the pillows, his cock laying back against his stomach… those big majestic wings spread and the tips hanging over the edges of her bed. She marvels over him. Taking in the sight, she sighs, “You’re more beautiful than I ever dreamed.”

He blushes slightly, “I’m glad you think so.”

“By the time I’m done with you,” she says, hiking a leg over him, resting her heat over his cock. “You’re going to believe me when I say you’re beautiful. Handsome,” she leans over him, cupping his face before pushing his hair back, “everything I’ve ever wanted and needed wrapped up in one. You are going to feel so loved.”

“I believe you,” he whispers back, unable to find his full voice in his surprise.

She hovers slightly, gripping his cock once more, “ready?”

He nods, “are you?”

She just smirks as she angles him towards her entrance and begins to sit down. The stretch is glorious, she takes him inch by inch, forgetting how to breathe the deeper he goes, she rests both her hands on his abs and stares at him, mouth agape. She lets out an exasperated breath, “holy gods…”

“Take as much time as you need to adjust,” he assures her it's okay, biting his lip. She can tell he wants to thrust, he wants to take advantage of the tight, wet heat wrapped around him currently.

She waits half a minute, the longest half-minute of his life, and then starts to pull back. His hands find her hips, helping her as she pulls off his cock an inch, barely, and grinds back down. Finding her own rhythm, he simply guides her hips alongside her own movements, “That’s it, sweet fuck, you feel so good.”

“You’re one to talk,” she grips her breast again, head tipping back as she rides him, “this is glorious… but I need more.”

“Tell me,” he growls. “Tell me what you need and I’ll be it for you. Forever.”

“I need–” she stops to bite back a slight moan, still riding him to the best of her ability. “I want you to fuck me, I can’t— I want to lay back and let you have your way with me.”

“Okay,” he agrees, sitting up slowly, he wraps his arms around her and maneuvers himself onto his knees without ever pulling out of her. Her arms were quick to wrap around his shoulders, holding on tight as he moved them. He rests her back, her head at the foot of the bed, still wrapped around her, he looks into her eyes, “How hard?”

Her hands trail down his shoulders, admiring his tattoos. She looks down at his chest, down to where they’re connected, and then back up to his eyes, “slow at first… I want to savour this. Making love to the man of my dreams for the first time. Our first time.”

He pulls out ever so slowly, more than she was able to on top of him. She feels him leave, the emptiness left in his wake… and then he pushes back in. Starts to explode behind her closed eyes, her head once again thrown back. She grips his arms tighter as he does it again and again, hitting a spot inside of her that she never knew existed. He’s so deep, filling her perfectly, she can’t believe any of this is real.

“Az,” she gasps his name as he picks up the pace, leaning in, he tucks his head into the crook of her neck and covers her in kisses, sucking gently, afraid to leave any marks, even though she heals fast and has 3 days of uninterrupted peace lined up.

She doesn’t hold anything back, moaning as loud as she wants, running her nails over his shoulders and back hard enough to draw blood. It feels too good to care, she’ll put some cream on him later… but for right now, she lives in this euphoria and doesn’t give a fuck about anything else. It’s just her and Az and two impending orgasms that might bring the mountain down.

There’s a hammering in her chest, a pang that contracts and expands with each thrust. It doesn’t feel like her heart, it’s not her lungs, either. Sure, she’s breathing heavily the faster he goes, but this is entirely different. This is… this is 10 million times more intense than when he tumbled from the cauldron and looked at Lucien the first time. This is a bond that she knew was there, buried deep inside of her, waiting to be awoken when the time was right.

She’s so close, she’s right there, but she needs more. She wants to reach between them and rub herself but she also wants to keep holding him this close, “Az, can— holy fuck, can you,” she starts to ask him for help, too overthrown by passion. “Shadows, down there,” she simplifies it.

He nods against her. “Yeah,” he breathes, hot and heavy under her ear.

She doesn’t see them, but there’s a presence between them, the same twisting, tingling feeling dances around her clit as it had her nipples. Ghosting over her, adding just enough pressure to push her to where she wants to be, she pulls his face out of her neck and slams her lips against his. Breathing him in, becoming one.

While her bond with Lucien was described as a metal wire, cold and formed against her will… the feeling of this new bond coming into existence is so much brighter. Lighter, full of life, love and happiness. It drapes over them like ivy and wisteria taking over a house, blooming eternal purple, white and pink blossoms all around them. Growing wilder as the years go on. She was covered in him, he was covered in her. This was how it was always meant to be.

He pulls back just enough to rest their foreheads together, breathing against one another now, he holds her tighter, “Mine.”

“Yours,” she agrees. Letting another few thrusts pass before she adds, “And you’re mine.”

“Yours,” he whispers. “Forever.”

“Forever,” she repeats as the feeling returns.

Heat builds and builds, swirling in her gut, mimicking the shadows she’s engulfed in. Wrapping her arms around him tighter, she brushes over his wing, making him whine. She does it again, pushing him to the edge alongside her. He’ll catch them both when they fall. Her stomach drops, her eyes squeeze shut, her body goes limp as pleasure pulses through her with a high-pitched, repeated moan as she rides it out.

And he’s gone then too, filling her up, she feels his cock twitch with each rope of release, only elongating her own orgasm. It’s everything she’s ever wanted, him, all of him, inside of her, making her his for life, and hopefully in whatever comes after.

He slumps against her, she can take his weight just fine, it actually feels wonderful. Crushed by his safety, his big delicious body pressed to her own. Wrapped around each other so tight they’re like a ribbon tied in a knot. Breathing heavily as they come down, that pang in her chest still strumming away.

He kisses her cheek, over to her ear, along her jaw and down her neck, she wonders if he’s feeling it too. “Az?” Hesitation in her voice.

“I know,” he whispers. “It happened for me too.”

She holds him even tighter somehow, tears slipping past her eyes as she lets out a sob. Happier than she could ever imagine being. He struggles to push out of her grip, holding himself up to look at her with genuine fear in his eyes, she just shakes her head, “I’m fine, I’m… I’m so happy.”

Tears blur his own vision, she watches one of them slip out, roll down his cheek and land on her chin. She just cups his face, brushing off the wetness. “You’re everything to me, everything and then some. You’re my favourite friend, my lover, my confidant. My test dummy, my best reviewer, supplier of my seeds—

“In more ways than one now,” he jokes, having to make it funny before he really sobbed.

She laughs too, “You make the world so much brighter for me.”

“Really?”

She nods, “you are the sunshine to my flower, you make me flourish and grow and love being alive… your light is so bright, of course, you have a shadow.”

By the look on his face, he never ever thought of it like that. “Thank you,” he lowers his head, brushing their noses together, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The kiss they share is… everything. Full of love and respect and wanting. Lust and need and friendship and yearning. Every emotion at once, so strong, it knocks the wind out of both of them, causing them to pull away enough to breathe, mouth to mouth. Sharing their souls, trading them back and forth, learning them more intimately than ever before.

“Mine,” he whispers again.

“Mine,” she reminds him, owning him just as much as he owns her.

A second wave washes over them, another round of need. He’s not as gentle this time and she’s perfectly okay with it. Flipping onto her stomach, he absolutely rails her, fingers digging into her hips while she screams into the mattress.

He’s definitely going to need that week off.

—

When things settle a bit, when there’s nothing left to come out of him and she’s barely able to stop her legs from shaking, the house drops two of their favourite danishes on the bed. Allowing them to make it real, to accept the bond before anyone in their lives can make an opinion of it.

He takes one, she takes the other, and like a couple on their wedding day, they bring it to each other's lips, arms crossed, and they feed one another. The beating in her chest steadies out, becoming one with her heartbeat as she swallows the pastry down. Her heart and his beat the same, sharing a rhythm, bonded to each other, forever.

She just smiles at him, “It’s real now.”

“It always has been,” he assures. “I knew from the moment I met you that this was going to be the outcome, and I would’ve waited 500 more years for it to happen.”

“Well, now we get those 500 years to be happily in love,” she adds, face dropping a bit, “Forever will never be long enough.”

“No it won’t,” he agrees, putting the pastry down and cupping her face again. “Let's make it count.”

She nods, “you know… I still want a big wedding.”

He laughs, “I do too. I want everyone and their mother to know you chose me.”

“And I would choose you again, over and over, in every universe. Always.”

He steals another kiss, having to do something to stop himself from crying. It’s a dream come true for both of them.

“Of course, the seer’s dream would come true,” he whispers against her. “I’m just blessed to have been the dream.”

“Hopefully we can make them all come true,” she teases, smirk on her face. “I’ve had some… rather colourful dreams about you.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm, we’ll have to explore them all this week.”

“I’ll fly down and tell him I’m not available this week, the second the sun comes up,” he assures.

“Take me with you, I want to see the look on his face when he realizes what happened,” cheeky as ever. “Maybe we should all take a week off, see who comes back the most relaxed.”

He laughs again, “well one couple has a kid, the other is with the Illyrians, I think we’ll win.”

“And thank the mother for that,” she leans in for another kiss, unsure how she could even sustain another round but her lust for him overpowers logic.

This was going to be a long week.

A/N: the house picked the name Anvita: who bridges the gap, who connects home and heart.

54 notes · View notes

furrylightphilosopher · 3 months

Text

Lucien: I could eat a horse. I'm famished. I will die if I don't eat something in the next 5 seconds!!!

Elain: Here *throws a baguette at him*.

Azriel: I am hung-

Elain: CASSIAN DON'T YOU DARE STEAL THAT GRAPE. IT IS FOR AZRIEL. HE SAID HE IS HUNGRY. I REPEAT IT IS FOR AZRIEL!

Cassian (later to Feyre): It was a SINGLE grape for f*uck's sake.

Azriel (whispering): It was kinda hot when she scolded Cass.

Elain ( in the kitchen): Oh Mother! I forgot to make lemon pie.

Nuala and Cerridwen (In the background): She literally made 37 different dishes.

#elriel #pro elain #pro elriel #feyre archeron #elain archeron #elain x azriel #acotar #cassian #azriel

79 notes · View notes

nikethestatue · 3 months

Text

A Match Baked In Heaven

Chapter XII

The Moan

“I want buns of steel. But also, buns of cinnamon,” Elain Archeron muttered, as she pulled out a pan of cinnamon buns from the oven. It was a strange choice, but this was Feyre’s favourite treat, and Elain felt that she owed it to her sister on her birthday.

Elain was running late. But there was a lot to do.

Feyre had changed her mind at the last minute, and they weren’t going to a Moroccan restaurant anymore. Instead, the restaurant was catering, the party was at Feyre’s loft, and Elain was tasked with making desserts. And there were thirty people invited, though with Feyre’s friends, it was quite possible that many more would drop by.

Now, Elain was running behind. She had to make a cake too, because Feyre requested her cake, and not one from a bakery. Elain was pretty proud of the cake, though she had no idea how she was going to transport it and carry it, but she wasn’t concerned about the logistics right now.

“Piglet, you are being very rude,” she told her pug. Predictably, she received no response.

As she mixed icing sugar, lemon juice and double cream for the icing, she continued, “That’s fine. It’s entirely up to you if you want to play introvert today. However, don’t expect treats then. You can’t be a glum introvert and still want treats.”

To that, Piglet expanded a mournful moan.

“No,” Elain said. “I don’t even know if you’ll get your Advent Calendar treat today. Unless daddy wants to give it to you, don’t count on me.”

Piglet looked sadly at his calendar, sniffling and barking weakly.

In about ten minutes, he raised his head, but didn’t get up. But Elain knew why–because in the next moment, the doorbell rang.

God she was running really, really late!

Wiping her hands with a towel, Elain fluffed up her hair–she wasn’t even sure why she was doing that–and went to the door.

When she opened it she was faced with not one, not two, but three men.

Three giant men. They looked wild, and dangerous, and beautiful. Not the men of this age or this time. They seemed ancient and powerful, like the warriors of old.

Not to say that they were dressed in armour or anything.

In fact, all three were wearing identical black suits, which probably cost as much as a downpayment for a house, and white shirts, open to various lengths on their brown, muscular chests.

Elain whooshed out a breath.

Her lady parts did a funny squeezie-squeeze, especially at the sight of Azriel Night, whose dark golden skin contrasted gorgeously with the white shirt and the black tattoos that snaked from under the collar of his shirt.

“Gentlemen,” she said at last. “Please, come in.”

“Ready for us, beautiful?” Azriel smiled and winked at her.

“Yeah, all three of you…”

Initially, Azriel self-invited himself to be Elain’s date to the birthday party. That was followed by him telling her that he’d be bringing Rhysand as well, since Rhysand needed to be introduced to Feyre. But, apparently, Cassian was also ready to party, since he was standing right here, smirking and looming over everything and everyone.

“Brothers, let me introduce you properly,” Azriel announced, once they were inside. “Lady Elain Archeron, my future wife and the future mother of my children.”

“Ohmygod,” was all Elain managed to breathe, her eyes wide and her cheeks red.

Cassian chuckled under his breath.

“Az is mental. Don’t mind him,” Cassian waved his hand, as he shouldered his way in.

He was strikingly handsome in a rough, lumberjack-chic kind of a way. Big. At least 6”6. He was probably a Viking or something like that in the past life. A Fae General. A chieftain, who’d smear himself in paint and fight the enemies with all sorts of terrifying weapons. He looked mighty fine in his bespoke suit, but it seems like all these modern trappings were little more than a nuisance to him, and he’d be just as comfortable in some fighting leathers.

“Hi Elain!” he boomed, looking around and whistling softly. “Nice digs, Lady. I’ve seen castles that aren’t as fancy as this. Is it too late for me to become a matchmaker?”

Elain smiled and he pulled her in for a quick hug.

“You are my future sis-in-law apparently!”

“Oh god, Cassian, not you too!” she moaned.

“Step aside, Lothario,” Azriel hissed at him and Cassian laughed.

“I’d be worried too. He knows I am irresistible to the ladies,” he announced proudly.

“I am positive that Lady Elain can resist you.”

With that, the third man, a lithe, tall, slender, muscular specimen, with an aristocratic bearing, a bit of a posh sneer, and an impressively beautiful face, pushed past Cassian and then gently took Elain’s hand and brought it to his lips.

“Lady Elain Archeron. Allow me to introduce myself. Rhysand Darling.”

“Just Elain,” she told him, but curtsied nevertheless, adding, “Lord Darling.”

He smiled. He reeked of elegance and good breeding.

“I’ve been looking forward to meeting the woman who’s bewitched my surly brother.”

“I am not surly,” Azriel threw with a frown.

Elain reached for him and then took Azriel’s hand in hers.

“He is alright,” she approved, smiling at him. “He’s grown on me.”

“I believe you know my mother and my sister,” Rhysand commented, as he clasped his hands behind his back and circled the formal living room and the parlour, admiring the art on the walls.

“Kandinsky,” he muttered to himself.

“I do,” Elain confirmed. “Lady Selene and the Duchess are members of the Women’s Institute, as are my sisters and I.”

“Wait, what?” Cassian gaped at the two of them. “You know each other? You know Selene?”

“We circulate in the same places,” Elain said vaguely.

Scowling, Azriel growled, “Yeah, with the Queen, right?”

“Her Majesty was a member of the Institute as well. The Sandringham Chapter to be precise,”

“You met the Queen?” Cassian gawked at her like she suddenly started juggling fire balls.

“Elain is a Lady,” Azriel said with a sigh, looking somehow depressed about it.

Elain held his hand in hers and gently rubbed her thumb over his pulse. When Azriel looked at her, she was smiling at him and that smile managed to calm him down somehow. Like Elain didn’t care about the difference in their upbringing, and she liked him for…him.

So Azriel smiled back at her and then whispered, “you aren’t even ready yet.”

“I’ve been baking.”

Azriel smiled excitedly and said, “I can’t wait to eat it! You know, matchy….Ours, is a match baked in heaven.”

“You are so ridiculous, I love it!” Elain stared at him, but then couldn’t help but laugh.

“I am not ridiculous! I am right,” he argued.

“Where is the little beastie with the bows?” Cassian looked around, seeking out Piglet.

Azriel frowned and also twisted his head this way and that way.

“Where is little matey?”

Elain pursed her lips and then pointed to the sofa in the family room.

“There he is. Being dramatic.”

And after a pause, added, “and RUDE! We have guests, and you are being absolutely rude!”

Azriel rushed to the pug.

Piglet was still dressed in his onesie, laying on the sofa arm, unmoving.

Depressed Piglet

“Pinky, my lovie, what’s wrong?” Azriel cooed, stroking the pug’s back.

Piglet didn’t move and just lay there listlessly, his little short legs draped over the sofa arm. Azriel nosed into his back and whispered, “what’s wrong? Daddy is home. I’ll take care of my boy.” He then picked Piglet up and cradled him to his chest.

“He is depressed,” Elain threw, while Rhysand watched Azriel fuss over the dog with amusement.

“Depressed?!?!” Azriel gasped. “Why? What made him depressed?”

Elain crossed her arms on her chest, and said, her voice laced with disappointment.

“We went to the vet today: to get Piglet’s longevity shots. It was a substitute vet–not his usual one–so he gave him a check up too.”

“Is he okay?” Azriel exclaimed in fright. “Is he sick?!”

Rhysand snorted a laugh at Azriel’s reaction. Azriel didn’t even look at him, while flipping him the bird.

“Whoa, is the doggo okay?” Cassian also asked, worried.

“He is fine. But the vet said that he is,” she took a piece of paper off the counter, and read out loud, “mildly anxious, highly spirited, overweight, overall well-adjusted, but with an extreme case of separation anxiety.”

As she repeated the diagnosis, Piglet released a tragic howl, before burrowing into Azriel’s neck.

“And he’s been like this ever since we came back.”

Azriel rocked Piglet back and forth in his embrace, kissing the top of his head.

“Don’t listen to the stupid vet. You aren’t overweight. You are just plump. And that’s okay. You are built for feed, not speed.”

Rhys laughed again, shaking his head at the ridiculousness of the scene.

“And it’s okay to have separation anxiety. I am anxious every time I am separated from Ellie. And from you.”

“What exactly are longevity shots?” Rhys asked, cocking his head.

“They are illegal!” Elain announced proudly.

“Illegal?”

“Yes. They are stem cell shots. Not legal here. But I am not having my dog die–ever. So he gets his longevity shots every six months.”

“Must be a pricey enterprise?”

“It is. Three thousand a pop. And I don’t care. It’s worth it.”

“Worth it,” Azriel agreed, and then gently pulled Piglet away from his neck and looked into his big, sad eyes.

“Baby boy, do you want to go to a party?” he asked. “Do you want to be the star? You'll wear the nicest outfit and you’ll have so much fun there. Everyone will be loving on you. What do you say?”

Piglet sniffled, clearly needing more encouragement.

“There will be snacks,” Cassian added.

“Yes. And cake. And maybe chicken nuggies! They are your faves!”

“He likes chicken nuggets?” Rhys asked, chuckling.

“They are chicken meatballs, but we call them ‘chicken nuggies’,” Azriel explained.

And then, he started signing. And dancing. With Piglet dangling in his hands, Azriel sang to the tune of Jose Feliciano’s ‘Feliz Navidad’:

Please feed the dog

I am so hungry

I don’t wanna starve!

I want a bucket of chicken nuggies!

And a slice of meatloaf

Everyone stared at him, slack-jawed.

“Jesus Mary and Joseph,” Rhys whispered in horrified awe. “Do we need an intervention?”

“Don’t get in between a man and his dog,” Cassian warned.

The dog meanwhile, bobbed his head to the song, finally coming to, and returning to his normal self.

“Did he get snacks today?” Azriel asked Elain. “He looks a little thin.”

“Yeah, he lost 5 kilos because he didn’t have snacks today,” she threw tartly, still displeased with Piglet’s attitude and behaviour.

“Okay, can we at least do the Advent Calendar?” Azriel pleaded, while Piglet slipped from his hands and then trotted happily to the huntboard and got on his hind leg, waiting for his daily treat.

“Oh, really? Now he is ready?” Elain asked dryly, staring Piglet down, who turned away from her and towards a much safer Azriel. And he even sweetened the deal with a smile, grinning at his dad, and showing a full row of his tiny little crooked teeth.

“He is ready!” Azriel announced excitedly, and then there was a whole argument between him and Cassian over who is going to break the slat and take out the treat. Cassian won, because he declared that he ‘never gets to do it, but Azriel gets to do it all the time!’ With that, he broke the seal, took out a small chewable treat shaped like a bone and broke it in half, before Azriel could stop him.

“Oh no!”

“What?” Cassian asked, alarmed, while Piglet crunched on half the snack.

“You don’t understand…it’s dog maths,”

“What?”

With a deep sigh, Azriel explained, “If you break a treat into two, that actually means zero treats. Or, for example, when dinner is at 7 pm, but you serve dinner at 7:02 pm, that means that you are two hours late. Though if you serve dinner at 6 pm, you are also two hours late.

“Anything that is human food is also dog food, but dog food is only dog food. In addition, human food is not counted towards food or snacks, therefore, it could be consumed in unlimited amounts.”

Rhys was shaking with laughter, while Cassian was clearly doing some complex calculations in his head, as he listened to Azriel. He fed Piglet the second part of the treat, and then confirmed, “So this means he did not receive a treat at all?”

“Exactly. A broken treat does not count as a treat.”

“I am adopting dog maths for all my maths,” Rhys decided right then and there.

Elain was watching the brouhaha with a shake of her head, before she asked, “May I count on you three, gentlemen, to undress him, put this tie on him, and then put his coat on.”

She handed Azriel a brown chequered tie and a Burberry jacket for the dog, but he in turn handed it to Cassian and said, “I am going to go help my girl out.”

It’s not that Elain needed help exactly, but she didn’t mind it either. Cassian looked at the dog attire uncertainly, gnawing on his lip, and then told Rhys ‘you are helping’.

“He likes to escape,” Azriel offered helpfully, as he ran after Elain up the stairs.

The moment the other two men were out of sight, he lifted her in his arms and pressed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply.

“I’ve missed my girl,” he murmured, dragging his nose over her jawline, up her cheek, kissing her softly and slowly.

“Azriel,” she moaned into his hair, grabbing the back of his neck.

“Let’s fuck off and not go to the party, send Cass, Rhys and pug, and stay in and fuck?” he proposed, hope shining in his eyes.

She laughed softly and said, “I think my sister might be a bit affronted if I didn’t attend her 25th birthday so I could stay home and fuck, as you put it.”

“Who, Fey? Fey wouldn’t care!” he blew his cheeks, “she is our shipper!”

“What?”

“She ships us hard. Wants us to be together!”

“Is this your dark romance lingo?”

“You should join the dark romance revolution,” he suggested. “You can join our Book Club,”

“Wait, you have a book club?”

“Yes, we do. But shit, you can’t! No girls allowed,” he shrugged apologetically.

“You have an all-men Book Club where you read dark romances?” she asked incredulously.

“Yeah. We are not sexist or anything. We read romances and smut.”

“You just said that no girls are allowed in your Book Club. That’s the definition of ‘sexist’.”

He frowned, thinking, while he deposited her on the floor in their bedroom, and plopped down on the bed himself.

“Oh yeah. Oh, well, a little sexist. But not super sexist.”

“Oh, well, phew. As long as you aren’t super sexist!”

Rolling on his side, and propping his head, he gave her a heated, lascivious look and said,

“Come on, strip, baby. Show me what you are wearing!”

“Since when did our relationship include stripping?” she pondered, as she disappeared in the walk-in closet.

“Not yet, but it should include plenty of stripping,” he decided. “I am all stripping-ready and if you’d like me to, I can strip right now.”

“Oh, no doubt,” Elain didn’t seem surprised.

Downstairs, it seemed that the two humans lost control of the situation pretty quickly. There was banging, suspicious crashing, curses and little claws clacking frantically on the floor. Cries of ‘hold him!’ and ‘shit’ and ‘why is he so fast’ peppered the commotion.

Azriel was smiling, listening to the chaos. He did warn them.

“This? Or this?”

When he glanced at Elain, his jaw dropped. Everything was forgotten.

If the house was on fire, he wouldn't have cared.

Because his naughty Elain came out, holding two hangers in her hands, and wearing nothing but a tiny, lacy, baby blue lingerie set. It hugged her generous form very deliciously and was basically see-through, which made Azriel swallow audibly. He asked for stripping and well, here they were. He could clearly see her full breasts and the pink nipples beneath the gossamer-thin material. And the way her knickers wrapped around the round hips just so…the firm, but ample thighs…

“Nu!” she pressed.

“What?” he asked, looking dazed.

At that point though, Piglet tore through the bedroom. He looked a proper state. Half of his onesie was hanging off his body, and he zoomed wildly around the bedroom, diving under the bed, before emerging and repeating his frantic circle.

From downstairs, they heard Rhys’s disgruntled holler, “What is this dog on?! What’s in the longevity shots? Cocaine?! I bet it’s coke!”

Elain stood there, almost naked, laughing, while Azriel devoured her with his eyes.

Piglet stopped his zooming and gave the situation an assessing gaze, looking whether any serial killers needed sorting out. Having not found any, he gave everyone a victorious bark and then bounded out the bedroom and down the stairs.

“Hold him on the right!” Cassian shouted.

“He is too fast!” Rhys screamed back, “how’s he so fast when he only has three legs!”

“Bribe him with a strawberry or a piece of cheese!” Azriel yelled in turn, not taking his eyes off Elain.

She grumbled, “how many men over 6”5 does it take to dress a three-legged pug?”

Azriel sat up on the bed and whispered, “Come here, baby.”

“Why do I feel like if I do, then we might not be leaving here at all?”

“You might be correct, but maybe, just maybe, if I touch some of these fleshy soft bits,”

“WHAT? Fleshy soft bits??” she gasped incredulously, while Azriel’s very long arm wrapped around her hips and he pushed her closer.

“Such,” he kissed her, in fact, soft belly, “fine,” another kiss right below her breast, “fleshy,” and his lips landed on the side of her waist, where it curved sensually and where he licked a path down to her hip, “soft,” and he lightly bit the spot just above the lacy band of her underwear, “bits,” and he inhaled so hard with his face against the mound of her sex that a satisfied, raw groan of pleasure reverberated deep within his chest.

Elain almost fainted, when suddenly, he wrapped his mouth over the lips of her pussy, biting them gently through the material of the underwear.

“My god,” she gasped, not knowing whether to push him away, or to pull his face closer and into her slit.

He dragged his tongue against the seam of her folds, and muttered hoarsely, his voice rough and harsher than usual, “do you know how much I’ve dreamt about eating your pussy? How much I want to watch you coming on my tongue?”

“My god, Azriel,” Elain managed to growl out, while he filled his huge palms with the flesh of her round ass cheeks. His thumbs stroked her skin, while he kissed her thighs, around her belly button, before gladly sinking his teeth into her breast and biting her nipple.

“I will be your god, my beautiful Elain,” he promised. “Once I make you come, you’ll understand the definition of ‘my god’.”

“So confident.”

“Oh I am.”

He pulled back a bit, and told her, “Gotta confess. A nice bare pink pussy is my kryptonite.”

“I suppose I fit the bill then?”

“You do. You always do.”

She picked up the two dresses that she had dropped on the floor and showed them to him again.

One was a wintry, knit dress, which no doubt, would look mighty fine wrapped over her form. The other, was a much more formal dress, in some ways sculptural, made of some type of heavy satin. It was cream, tailored and spectacular.

“This is more practical,” Elain said, lifting the knit dress. “I can wear it with tall boots and I think it would look nice,”

“No,” he said flatly.

“No?”

“You aren’t going to look ‘nice’. You’ll look stunning. ‘Nice’ is not for Elain Archeron. It’s not for my girl.”

She bit her lip adorably, considering his words, while he was watching her like a hungry hound.

“I do have these shoes that I’ve been dying to wear, but they are open and it’s December.”

“Bring the shoes,” he ordered simply. “You’ll put them on there.”

“Okay,” she agreed, though it didn’t seem like she needed a lot of encouragement.

…Downstairs, Cassian had Piglet in some kind of MMA headlock, while Rhysand was attempting to put the jacket on the pug.

Small wins: they succeeded in taking the onesie off. And Piglet had a tie around his neck, even if it was all skewed.

The jacket was proving to be a challenge.

“You two seriously cannot be trusted with a dog,” Azriel lamented, watching the pathetic display.

“Fuck, Elain,” Cassian gasped. “You look…wow. You look really beautiful.”

Azriel immediately wrapped a possessive, proprietary arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“Thank you, Cassian,” Elain smiled and then snapped her fingers.

With frightening ease, Piglet broke out of Cassian’s hold, showing that he was just indulging them and that they never stood a chance. He also grabbed the jacket out of Rhys’s hands and trotted to Elain, handing it to her.

“Are you going to be a good boy tonight?” she asked, as she dressed him in about 47 seconds. “It’s Aunt Fey’s birthday and you have to be nice to her. She’ll want to give you hugs,” at that Piglet sighed, “and you have to give her hugs.”

Piglet led the charge, and when he saw Dev and Dev asked to ‘shake’, he shook with him. Azriel was carrying the birthday cake, internally freaking out. That was a heavy responsibility. Rhysand was charged with carrying the cinnamon buns and the pastries. Somehow, Cassian ended up without a task, however, once they piled into the car, he was responsible for holding Piglet in his lap. Elain carried and touched nothing other than her purse.

“Camden then?” Dev confirmed with Elain.

“Yes,” Elain nodded, sandwiched between Azriel and Rhysand, and feeling a bit overwhelmed by the amount of testosterone in the car. The most amorous sensations came from Azriel’s side, whose scent she wanted to drown in. The heat of body, the muscular arm that pressed into hers, the very sight of his gorgeous throat which she wanted to kiss and lick and bite had her squirming in her seat, pressing her thighs together. Azriel gave her a side glance and smirked.

“You feeling okay, baby?” he asked lightly.

“Oh, just splendid!” she assured him tartly.

“You sure? You seem a bit squirmy there,”

“Oh, quite positive. Just setting in,” she offered him a fake smile.

“Anything I can do to help you? Settle in, that is?”

“Doing okay on my own,”

“It would seem so. Perhaps you’ve been doing it on your own for a bit too long…and might require a helping hand after all?”

Cassian squinted at them, stroking Piglet’s head, looking absolutely and hysterically ridiculous holding a dressed up pug. Elain kept averting her eyes from the two of them, because she knew that she was about to burst into laughter.

“Is this some kind of sex talk?” Cassian asked suspiciously.

Rhys smiled a brief smile, and it occurred to Elain that nothing much escaped this man.

“Ellie doesn’t do sex talks,” Azriel told him.

“Hmmm…sounds like sex talk,” Cassian insisted. “Will there be girls at this party?”

“Quite a few,” Elain nodded.

“Okay, maybe I’ll hook up with someone.”

“You are not going there to hook up!” Rhys warned him.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not an American frat party where you are going to be shagging someone in an empty bedroom. We are going to a birthday party. And we weren’t even invited!”

“I was invited,” Azriel argued.

“Technically, you weren’t,” Rhys argued. “You are going as Elain’s date.”

“Oh.”

“Then what am I?” Cassian wondered.

“Piglet’s date,” Elain joked. “Listen, it’s fine. You were all technically invited. Feyre wanted to meet everyone. She is quite taken with Azriel already. I am sure you’ll impress her as well. Now, impressing my older sister Nesta might be a little more difficult.”

“Oh yeah?” Cassian instantly leaned forward, as if the challenge of impressing Nesta intrigued him.

“Nesta is…complicated,” was all Elain said.

“Is she as beautiful as you?” Cassian queried.

Elain got all adorably pink and flustered and Azriel gave his brother an unimpressed look.

“Nesta is very attractive,” Azriel growled, stroking the side of Elain’s neck with his thumb. “But no one is as beautiful as Elain.”

Elain lit up like a Christmas tree at his words, blushing and smiling and trying to hide, but he only kissed her temple and held her closer.

When Rhysand heard ‘Camden’ he did not expect this. He wasn’t exactly a Camden type of a person, so he wondered if he’d stick out like a sore thumb in the Camden crowd. He was an Old Etonian. But when they arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief and reminded himself that the Archerons weren’t exactly poor. They stopped next to a sprawling refurbished industrial building. It was old London brick–dark and dirtied with age, which gave it character. There were a couple of huge windows, now brightly lit up, and behind the house was a canal and a little dock. This was nice.

Cassian got out first, and Piglet confidently trotted to the door and barked, announcing his arrival. Azriel was last, holding on that cake like his life depended on it. Rhysand smiled. Azriel was such a good boyfriend. Who would’ve thought? But he turned out to be the exemplary boyfriend, who was utterly obsessed with Elain. To an unhealthy degree, in Rhys’s opinion. Azriel already marked his body permanently with all things Elain. If this didn’t go well and ended in a way that Azriel wasn’t expecting, well…it would get messy. Hearts would be broken. Dreams would be shattered. Tattoos would have to be removed or covered up…

The door opened and a tall, very slim woman stood in front of them. That she was Elain’s sister was obvious. But her face was sharper, the eyes a steely grey-blue, long golden brown hair tied into a no-nonsense chignon at the nape of her neck. She wore a simple pearl-grey dress, well-tailored, but without frills, and a huge diamond and emerald brooch, a la the late Queen.

For a moment, she just stood there, assessing them all with an unflinching gaze.

“Are you Nesta?” Cassian suddenly stepped forward, his attention wholly on the willowy, busty beauty in front of him.

“You are late,” she said instead, ignoring him.

“We aren’t!” Elain argued. “The party doesn’t start until six and we have plenty of time to prepare.”

Cassian wasn’t deterred and announced, “I am Cassian!”

“Congratulations,” Nesta said. Then, she asked Elain, “What is this? A reverse harem?”

Before the confused Elain could answer, Cassian asked excitedly,

“Oh, a fellow reverse harem lover?! Very nice. What’s your favourite book?”

Nesta gave him a puzzled, but intrigued look, while he continued, undeterred,

“Mine is “The Kings’ Wife’! What’s yours?”

“‘Forget-Me-Not Bombshell’,” she answered flatly, surprising everyone. “Obviously.”

“Obviously.”

Behind Nesta, they heard an excited voice, and an exclamation, “Elain, this cake!!! Oh my goddess! It’s crazy beautiful!! Piggy! Come…Come! Give me hugs! Come to me, my good boy.”

Piglet muscled his way between the sea of legs, and hopped towards the birthday girl, being a good boy, just like he promised.

She sat on the floor and accepted him in her arms, taking off his coat.

“Welcome everyone!” she said loudly.

“Thank you for having us,” Rhys said ahead of everyone. He wasn’t sure why.

And then, her eyes landed on him.

Feyre. What a name.

A gently lovely girl, with blue eyes and brown hair, and a scattering of visible freckles all over her nose and cheeks. Not a beauty like Elain. Not as striking as Nesta. And yet…

“I’ve heard your voice,” she suddenly said, her luminous eyes firmly planted on Rhys’s face.

“Pardon?” he stuttered.

“It was like you called me,” she continued, “and I heard you. Your voice. Across the hills, calling me. I think it was in a dream,” she laughed nervously. “But your voice was very distinctive.”

“Well, then I am glad that I am the man of your dreams. Literally.”

At that, Feyre laughed, but it was nervous, as if there was a grain of truth in his voice.

Rhys continued,

“Happy birthday, Feyre darling.”

She got up from the floor, still holding the pug. Piglet looked between the two of them with a smug look on his squished face. Like he knew something they didn’t.

“Are you Rhysand?” she asked shyly.

“I am Rhysand,” he confirmed. “You’ve heard of me?”

“I have. Apparently, I’ve also heard you. Welcome.”

Like her sisters, Feyre also wore a plain dress, of deep dark blue velvet. It was simple, but form-fitting, exposing her elegant neck. She didn’t wear any jewellery and at that, Rhys smirked and reached into his jacket pocket. He stepped closer to the birthday girl, ignoring all the curious stares from his brothers and her sisters, and then took out a flat black box and handed it to her.

“For you.”

Feyre blushed prettily and looked up at him from under her long lashes.

“A gift? For me?” she repeated, taking the box from him.

“A pretty gift for a pretty girl,” he smiled, smoothly opening the lid and suddenly taking out a…crown. A diadem.

Nesta stared at the gift, and so did Cassian, and even Azriel, with complete astonishment.

It was a delicate band of white gold, shaped like a branch, studded in places with tiny diamonds and lapis lazuli.

“A crown for the lady.”

Rhys smiled at Feyre, whose eyes were as big as saucers and then gently placed the diadem upon her head, effectively crowning her.

“Well, now it’s perfect.”

“I…my…I can’t…” Feyre began to babble frantically, but Rhys only offered an indulgent smile and said, “of course you can. Now, did you know that Piglet loves me and allowed me to dress him?” he lied.

“Oh no way! Really?!” she exclaimed, totally falling for his bullshit. “He could be so standoffish. And if he wants to zoom…well, then you can’t even catch him!”

“No?! You don’t say?” Rhys pretended to be shocked, while offering her his arm.

She took it easily, still clutching Piglet to her, her eyes never leaving Rhys’s face.

“May I tell you something?” she requested.

“Well, of course! What is it?”

“I think that you are the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen,” she gushed. “And I thought that Azriel was handsome,”

“Well, he is another pretty face for sure. But not as pretty as mine,” Rhys winked at her, and they disappeared inside the huge loft, joking and laughing.

“Did he just give her a tiara?” Nesta questioned in disbelief.

“Yeah…who needs soup when you can just get a tiara,” Elain agreed.

Turning abruptly to Cassian, Nesta said, “Help me please.”

“With pleasure,” he grinned.

“I’ll let Elain take her coat off, but please bring the cake into the kitchen,” Nesta commanded, picking up the boxes with buns and pastries, while Cassian lifted the cake.

“Be careful with your bear paws,” she warned him sternly.

“Well, don’t stress me out!” he threw back, and they also disappeared inside the cavernous house, sniping and bickering playfully.

“Well, I don’t know what just happened there,” Azriel twirled his finger in the direction of his brothers, “but something did.”

Feyre’s place was wonderful, though very different from Elain’s. The floors were dark, old wide planks, the walls–exposed brick, shiplap, stucco, there were beams above, and soaring ceilings, impressive windows and all sorts of interesting industrial touches.

“I like our house better,” Azriel decided easily, after he looked around.

Elain smiled at his bluntness, finally taking off her coat. She sat on the arm of the sofa, and unzipped her boots. They were in a small sitting room, where Feyre usually watched TV. Just behind the wall, they heard laughter, clinking of glasses, and the arrival of more guests. Excited compliments of ‘Feyre, look at your tiara!’ ‘Fey are you wearing a crown?!’ ‘Feyre, you are a proper high noble lady’, ‘Should we call you Lady Feyre?’ and so on. They also heard Piglet squealing and galloping around, yelling wawabawa akwakwaka which was his usual call for snacks. Since he was ‘depressed’ earlier today, his snack consumption was quite low compared to his daily snack load.

It was only when Elain turned her head that she gasped and recoiled.

Because Azriel…

He was…

Well…

He was on one knee in front of her.

“Hi,” he smiled at her, seeing her shocked face.

“What…what are you…ohmygod…what are you doing?!”

She was literally hyperventilating.

Clutching the front of her dress, she was gasping like a fish, her face flushed.

“Elain, will you,” he began asking solemnly,

“YES!” she cried out, eyes wild. “Yes,”

“Give me your pretty foot,” he continued nonchalantly, smirking to himself.

“Wait, what?”

“Your foot, pretty girl,” he extended his hand out.

“You don’t want to…” her voice faded into a whisper.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“You sure?”

“I am sure,” she hissed.

“So, you don’t want me to ask you to marry you?” he confirmed, while he took her foot and then pulled out her fancy high-heeled open toe pumps from the bag, and slid one on.

“No!” she shouted.

“No need to yell, beautiful,” he told her, working on the complex tie and clasp of the shoe.

On his knees

“I am not yelling,” she pouted.

“So you didn’t get excited when you saw me on one knee?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think that maybe, just maybe I’ll pull a ring out?”

“No!”

“Hmmm. You seem a bit upset, sweetheart.”

“I am not upset,” she folded her arms on her chest, as she bit her lip aggressively, trying to stifle the tears that threatened to fall.

“So you don’t want to marry me?” he pressed.

“No!” she repeated yet again.

“Hmmm,” he gave another annoying hum, and then took her left hand and squeezed her ring finger, before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “And you don’t want a big diamond ring on this pretty little finger of yours?”

“No!”

“Okay, I am a little sad, as I was planning to stop by Cartier, but if you aren’t interested,”

“You are not going to do it!” she argued petulantly.

He shrugged, “who knows…But seeing as you aren’t interested anyway,”

Quickly she amended, “I am not not interested…”

“Oh no? Because I did think that you looked a bit devastated when you didn’t find me proposing.”

“I am not devastated. I was just surprised,” Elain insisted stubbornly.

He tied her second shoe and then bent to kiss her ankle.

“And if I did, propose that is, what would my Cinderella say to her Prince?”

He wrapped his big, warm hands over her bare legs, rubbing the backs of her knees slowly, as he waited for her answer.

“I don’t know! Can I say ‘yes’ after knowing you for 2 months?”

“You can say ‘yes’ after knowing me for two hours,”

“You called me a cow, and a prissy bird or something like that in the first two hours of our meeting,” she glowered at him.

“You implied that I couldn’t get it up,” he reminded her quickly.

“Ergh, I didn’t mean it,”

“Because I can certainly demonstrate–me getting it up pretty well,” he offered.

“So you keep saying.”

“And you keep denying me the opportunity,” he scolded, before kissing her hand again. “Look at me,” he ordered, and then lifted her chin, so their eyes met. “The truth is, at the end of the day, you are the one person I want to come home to. You are the only person who I want to tell about my day. You are the one who I want to share my happiness with, my sandnes, my frustrations. So, I’ll ask you, Elain Archeron. And you better say yes. Because there is no getting rid of me.”

Elain wiped her tears with her first. She didn’t even know why she was crying. Probably because she loved him. And the thought of him not asking her to be with him forever did in fact, devastate her.

“Why are you crying?” he asked gently.

“I dunno,” she admitted, wiping her tears again.

“You don’t have to cry. I am yours. I am.”

“You don’t have anyone else?”

“Nah…” then he stopped and looked at her guiltily, adding, “Well, I do…” he paused mysteriously and Elain gasped in silent horror.

“You do?!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah…”

“Who is she?”

“Oh, it’s a he,” he said immediately, grinning at her. “He is furry, likes snacks a lot, has three legs, snores and zooms,”

Through her tears, Elain smiled and then pushed him.

“Are you just going to traumatise me for the rest of the night?” she demanded, finally getting up.

“Do you like me on my knees in front of you, Miss Archeron?”

“That’s the least you can do for putting me through all this nonsense,” she looked down at her legs, her sexy shoes, and sighed.

“You are gorgeous. A girl of my dreams,”

“Apparently, that’s Rhys–he is in Feyre’s dreams,” Elain said dryly.

“Yeah, he is the girl of her dreams,” Azriel nodded and then rose up, while Elain laughed.

Cassian sat in an armchair, observing the revelry in front of him. He swirled his whiskey lazily around the tumbler, feeling mellow. He wasn’t exactly drunk, but he was under the influence for sure. It was a good feeling. The party-loving pug had arrived about fifteen minutes ago, definitely also under the influence of something, because he yawned widely and then raised his front paws, asking Cassian to pick him up. It looked like Piglet had decided that Cassian could join his secret and exclusive pug-pack and Cassian was only too happy to oblige. Now, Piglet was snoring blissfully, his head resting on Cassian’s thigh. Taking his pug-protector duties very seriously, Cassian scowled at anyone who attempted to disturb the sleeping pup, and considering his size and general appearance, no one dared to contradict him.

“Hey Nes,” he called out. “Come sit with me.”

Nesta, who was walking by, gave him her typical icy look and snapped, “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Nes?” he smiled playfully. “Alright, sweetheart. Whatever you say.”

He patted the seat next to him. It would be a snuggly fit for the two of them, since he took up so much space.

“What do you want?” she demanded, but he noticed that she didn’t exactly walk away.

“Come, sit with me. I’ll tell you a story.”

“I don’t want stories,”

“Sure you do, my prickly rose.”

“You are overly familiar, Mr. Night,” Nesta sipped her white wine, but Cassian reached out and held out his massive hand to her. And Nesta…Nesta…took it. He pulled her to him gently and she stepped closer, before he wrapped his arm around her waist and to her utter dismay, placed her next to him. Piglet moved onto his side, but didn’t wake up.

“The little beastie is tired,” Cassian murmured, his expression soft.

“What do you want, Mr. Night?” she tried again.

“You remind me of Elain,” he noted simply. “She is mad formal as well.”

“I don’t know you at all!”

“You can find out more. Whatever you want.”

“What do you do?” Nesta asked, squirming next to his massive, muscular body. God he was handsome. Azriel was handsome, hands down maybe the most handsome one out of the three–and that was saying something. Rhysand–not her type, but undeniably beautiful. But this one–objectively, he was probably the least classically handsome, yet to Nesta, he was simply stunning. Everything she didn’t know she liked he possessed. This size of his, the muscles, the strong features, the jet black silky hair tied into a haphazard bun.

“I am a sports agent,” he answered. “What about you?”

“A barrister.”

“I should’ve guessed. Here is what I think, Miss Archeron,”

“What?”

“You are a very successful, very beautiful, very lonely and very misunderstood woman,”

Nesta jolted in her place, her pale face colouring angrily, her brows knitting together at the audacity of his words. His expression remained calm, almost placid, though, unlike Azriel, this wasn’t a placid man. Undeterred he continued, “And I am guessing that you are knocking on 30 pretty soon, and you aren’t very happy with where you are in life. It should’ve been different, right?”

She attempted to get up, but he held her down, and tsked,

“Before you storm away, let me tell you something,”

“Leave me the hell alone!” she snarled. “You uncouth, rude bastard,”

He chuckled.

“Uncouth, huh? Cute. The Archeron girls are adorable. Now, look at them,” he jerked his head towards the crowd. Reluctantly, Nesta followed his gaze, and watched Elain and Azriel seated next to each other on top of the radiator cover, eating what looked like ice cream. Well, he was holding the bowl, but he was feeding Elain, who was licking the spoon, before he dunked it back into the ice cream, and took a swipe himself. She rested her head on his shoulder, both of her hands wrapped securely around his upper arm, holding onto him like she couldn’t let go.

It struck Nesta then–how relaxed Elain looked. Elain was always a little bit tense, unless she was with Piglet. She was especially tense around Eris, always worrying about his opinion, always desperate to please him, always seeking his approval, or a rare compliment. Elain worried about her figure, having been told by their mother that she was chubby and that she’d never get married, because men wanted a slender wife. Elain was insecure, old-fashioned, but bold and entrepreneurial, which made for a confusing combination. But never did Nesta observe Elain looking so…content. Happy. At ease. She held on to that big, tattooed, striking man and only had her eyes for him. It didn’t look like the rest of the world existed for her, because he was the centre of it.

“She is in love,” Nesta breathed, the realisation slamming into her like a hammer.

Azriel was in love, for a long time now, and of that she was sure. But Elain? Elain had fallen too.

Turning abruptly to Cassian, she found him with his hands clasped behind his head, looking mighty satisfied, with a proud smirk on his lips.

“What are you so happy about?” she demanded.

He tsked and said, “I set them up.”

“What are you on about?”

“Without me, they wouldn’t have met! I was the one who contacted her. I was the one who dragged him to meet with her. I was the matchmaker. And look how well I matched them. Now, obviously, this extends to Feyre and Rhys now. If it weren’t for me, they wouldn’t have met either,”

“Hold your horses with them! They just met tonight,”

“And yet he crowned her like she was his lady,” Cassian reminded her.

“Which was weird,”

“Rhys likes big gestures,”

“Alright, fine, what do you want? To quit your job as a sports agent and work with Elain as a Junior Matchmaker?”

At that, Cassian laughed, and woke up Piglet. The dog stretched, yawned and then rolled over and quickly located his ma and dad in the crowd. With a happy yip, he jumped off the chair and ran over to them.

Nesta turned away from Cassian, watching Azriel scoop some ice cream into a soup bowl and let Piglet slurp it all with messy gusto. Nesta knew how much Piglet loved a pup cup, and this was a pup cup on steroids. Elain and Azriel cooed and laughed over their dog, holding hands, watching him, commenting something to each other, and Nesta was struck by another revelation–they were a family. Somewhere along the road, somehow, the three of them formed a family of their own. And Elain was no longer just an Archeron. For almost thirty years, Nesta had her two sisters, and the three Archeron sisters were an unshakable, even somewhat notorious unit. They were regal and beautiful and available and wealthy. They were the Three Sisters. And now…She glanced at Elain again, who was back on the radiator cover, seated with her legs crossed and placed on Azriel’s lap, who held them tightly. Whatever he was saying, was making Elain laugh loudly, her head thrown back. The grouping of empty glasses near her probably played a role as well. But it stung Nesta somewhere deep in her chest. Her beloved sister was no longer hers. Her beloved sister was now beloved by someone else. Elain’s light and softness were well and truly melding with the untamed intensity of Azriel Night.

“The only one I want to matchmake for, is you,” Cassian said firmly. His tone was steady, but he said it in such a manner that Nesta turned to him, looking into his lovely luminous hazel eyes.

“And who are you setting me up with exactly?” she asked, cocking her head.

“Me.”

“You?”

“Me. You and I are going on a date.”

“Excuse me?” she almost choked on her wine.

“Why are you surprised, Nes?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’ll call you whatever you want me to call you, sweetheart. What do you say? Walk on the wild side? Me and you?” he winked at her.

“You are mad,” he concluded simply.

“Perhaps. Doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

She stood up from the chair, and he didn’t stop her this time. He just looked at her expectantly.

“Fine,” she said tersely.

Cassian smiled.

“I knew you were a smart girl.”

“I am already regretting it,” she warned.

“You won’t have any regrets. Once I am done with you, you’ll be asking for more and more dates.”

“Doubtful.”

“I’ll prove it.”

She threw him a withering glance, and added,

“The only reason I am saying yes to you is because,”

“My blinding handsomeness? All my bulging muscles? My mighty height? Wicked sense of humour? Winning personality?” he offered.

Nesta rolled her eyes and moaned, “Help me Lord. No, ridiculous man.”

“What then? What secret weapon do I possess that totally made you want to go out with me?”

“Piglet trusts you,” she shrugged, like it didn’t mean much.

“Oh…”

“And he doesn’t trust many people. I’ve been watching him. He trusts no one like he trusts Azriel. He even trusts Azriel with Elain! Which is unheard of. He is actually capable of leaving her with Azriel and not hovering like he is surgically attached to her. And when I saw today that he actually sought you out and slept next to,”

“That was the turning point?” Cassian chuckled. “The beastie trusting me?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s good to know. He is my wingman. Now, where the fuck is cake?! Are we cutting or what?”

“It’s a birthday, not a wedding,” Nesta reminded him. Cassian took her by the hand, soliciting a small girlish gasp of surprise from her.

“Yeah…not yet.”

Elain was standing, eating birthday cake, chatting with her old classmate Lucien, who was also one of Feyre’s closest friends. Lucien was also distantly related to Eris, which only confirmed yet again how incestuous their circle actually was. Azriel teased her about it, but he was actually correct in his observation.

Lucien’s been throwing confused glances in Azriel’s direction most of the night, as if trying to figure out who he was to Elain, and what the nature of their relationship was.

But he was too polite to ask, so instead, he joked, “So, when am I going to be set up with someone sexy, smart and successful? What am I, a wet herring?”

Elain laughed.

“All herrings are wet by default,” she told him, “I thought you weren’t interested in matchmaking?”

“I wasn’t. But seeing how well you are doing, I am eager to have you change my mind.”

“Are you ready then?” Elain asked seriously.

A year ago, Lucien was in a very serious car accident, where he lost his eyes in the aftermath. His longtime girlfriend left him shortly afterwards. He’s been devastated ever since, and wouldn’t venture out in any social situations, let alone dates. This was the first time that he decided to attend anything that had more than three guests, and only because he and Feyre went way back.

“I might be. I want to have someone looking at me the way you are looking at him,” and he nodded towards Azriel who was talking in a group of men.

Elain squirmed a bit and blushed at his insinuation.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell Eris. Not my business,” he told her quickly.

“Thank you. But Eris hasn’t been in touch for weeks now. It’s nobody’s fault.”

“His loss. Maybe mine as well,” and he looked at her with a longing that made her almost uncomfortable. “But I don’t think it was ever meant to be–you and I.”

“I don’t think so,” she agreed. “We look good on paper. But maybe we don’t work so well as anything but friends.”

“The friendship is good,” Lucien decided, sipping some of his champagne. “Let’s do that. Let’s be friends.”

“And there might be someone of interest who could be a good potential,” Elain murmured thoughtfully, clearly thinking about something.

“Oh yeah?”

“But you’d have to be a client. Formally.”

“At least tell me her name!” he laughed. “What if she has a horrible name!”

“Nuala. How’s that? Can you live with that?”

“Oh. Nuala. I like it!”

“So, if you are serious, then ring me up after New Year’s and we’ll create your profile and will get to work.”

“And you think that this wouldn’t be an impediment?” he asked awkwardly, pointing to his face.

Elain looked at him and said seriously,

“For some, yes. For others, no. If they can’t see beyond the surface and not understand what you bring then it’s probably not a good match. Or a good person.”

Suddenly a familiar, very muscular, very big hand smacked Elain on the ass.

She whipped and hissed at the grinning Azriel. Piglet was at his feet, looking up, also grinning smugly.

Before she could unleash, Azriel quickly explained, “It’s my burden, beautiful. Every man’s burden–the need to smack his lady’s juicy rump whenever we are near it.”

“Oh, is that so!!” she exclaimed, while Lucien hid his smile in his champagne flute.

“Listen,” Azriel said somberly, like he was being serious. “It’s not easy. It’s not easy to have these…urges. You think I want to walk around, see your gorgeous arse, and be overcome by an intolerable need to slap it? And then I have to trudge and actually, you know, do it! Slap your yummy buns.”

“Yummy buns?!?!?”

“Oh goodness…” Lucien laughed. “I think I shall leave you two alone to discuss!”

“Not until you tell her that it’s an uncontrollable urge that all men suffer from?” Azriel insisted, wrapping his arm around Elain’s waist.

“Most of us do,” Lucien confirmed. “Not everyone acts on it though,”

“See, not everyone acts on it!” Elain elbowed Azriel and he bowed dramatically.

“I think it depends on the arse. Yours is too tempting not to smack.”

Once Lucien moved on to another group of guests, Azriel grabbed Elain by the hand and dragged her after him, with Piglet hot on their heels.

“You are not having messy sex with me in the closet!” she warned.

He didn’t answer, but threw her her coat and her boots, while lunging at Piglet and taking him by surprise before he could escape.

“Are we leaving?” Elain asked, looking around and at her coat in confusion.

“No. But put it on. We are gonna go out for a sec.”

She frowned at his abruptness, but took off her heels and pulled on her socks and then her boots, before tying her coat with a belt. Piglet was wearing his jacket too, though he looked unamused and put off by the fact that he wasn’t chased around. Azriel even pulled on Piglet’s knit hat, while he dressed himself, and then taking Elain’s hand, he had the three of them sneak out quietly.

The moment they were outside, Elain gasped softly and threw her head back.

The world had turned white.

Snow.

Thick, fluffy piles of snow had fallen in the past few hours and now covered everything in pristine brilliant whiteness. It swirled in the lemony light of street lights, falling silently all around them.

Piglet looked up, awed.

This was a new and beautiful thing that he didn’t remember from before. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he caught snowflakes on his nose, licking his lips loudly. Then, with a happy howl, Piglet burst forth and galloped through the snow, rolling in it and screeching joyfully.

Elain bounced on her heels, clapping her hands excitedly, laughing and also trying to catch some snowflakes on her tongue.

“This is better than sex in the closet!” she giggled, spreading her arms wide.

Azriel came behind her and wrapped his arm across her chest.

“Fuck sex,” he whispered into her ear, his lips warm and tender on her cold skin. She shivered at the proximity, because of how good he smelled, and because he enveloped her in his warmth and his bigness. He continued, his cheek scraping against her own.

“I am trying to be your home, you know. Your safe place. Your go-to person for happy and for sad. I am looking to be the reason you smile, and laugh and clap your hands.”

“Az,” she breathed and turned in his arms, looking up at him. Her chocolate-brown eyes were filled with tears. Tears of love. They rolled silently over her cheeks, while Azriel smiled down at her and whispered,

“We're still gonna have rough sex though.”

Before she could answer, he gently took her jaw in his fingers and tilted her face so it lined up with his.

“I want to kiss you, Elain,” he said seriously, his breath fanning over her lips.

“Kiss me then,” she permitted. Thick, white clumps of snow fell on Azriel’s black hair, his eyelashes, her hands that clutched at his shoulders. Her tears dried up and she breathed heavily, disoriented and aroused at once.

And then, Azriel kissed her.

His lips were heavenly.

Soft and light at first, tentative and gentle.

She tensed against him, the bulk of his body shielding her from the world. And in this world, in her world, there was only him.

His kiss was tender, but firm, luxuriant and dominant at once. He gripped her face in his massive hands, squeezing tightly and holding her in place, but his lips were soft and loving on her mouth. He didn’t hurry, but tasted her thoroughly, enjoyed the scent of her sugar- and wine-tinted mouth. She tasted delicious–like he always thought she would. Butter and honey and pastry and everything nice. Everything that was Elain. She was sweet and homey and familiar, and he felt like he’d kissed her a million times before.

His tongue parted her lips at last, and he continued his exploration, but it grew hungrier and more urgent as the kiss progressed. A groan of primal, animalistic pleasure escaped his throat, reverberating against her lips and Elain trembled in his arms, growing hot and needy, despite the falling snow and the sharp wind.

She felt consumed by him, and yet, worshipped at the same time. Just like always. He ignited feelings in her which she’d never experienced before–didn’t even think that she was capable of them. It was raw and hot, and left her feeling lightheaded and overwhelmed. Elain didn’t care about anything at that moment, nothing but Azriel Night, the man she came to love so desperately and completely.

She arched into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, holding the back of his head, while he cupped her head and delved deeper into her mouth, licking and sucking on her tongue. His other hand fell away from her face and slipped down her back, before pressing into her hip and pushing her closer to him.

Elain was well aware of his general size and how he was big everywhere. But feeling him now, thick and hard against her belly, definitely aroused–finally made her feel like a woman. She felt desired. Needed. Wanted. Big, strong, powerful, towering Azriel, and she was his undoing right now. Little Elain, whom no one took seriously. Azriel Night was kissing her. Panting for her. Growling in his chest like a beast because of how she made him feel.

She didn’t know that she needed this kiss until his mouth took possession of hers. To say that she’d never been kissed like this before was an understatement of the century. Azriel licked and sucked on her mouth, nipping on her lips, biting them until they were swollen beneath his. It was then that she released a ragged, pitiful moan of pleasure, because he ground himself between her legs and her breasts rubbed into his solid chest, intensifying her pleasure, making her feel everything.

“This is the sound I want to hear when I am inside of you,” he murmured into her mouth, kissing her lightly, before clamping his teeth over her jaw.

Elain felt his heart pounding against her own, and she howled into the night when he bit her neck, sucking in on the delicate skin and marking her as his anew. He sucked and bit her and she staggered back, almost falling out of his arms. He didn’t let go of her, but only growled like a beast, panting into her skin, his lips and teeth working themselves deep into her flesh, while his arms banded around her. Elain gasped from the pain and the sublime pleasure, because hearing him grunt and growl like that might have been the sexiest sound she’d ever heard.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he whispered, returning to her lips and kissing her hard and sloppily. She loved this untamed, wild side of him, where he lost his control and revealed the true nature of him and his utter obsession with her. “To me. You belong to me,” he chanted. “Mine.”

“Yours,” she nodded, kissing his lips, kissing his eyes, then his tongue, then his lips again. She was the one to lose control of the situation just as well. If he wanted to fuck her against the wall of her sister’s house, she’d let him. She was achy everywhere, tense and wet between her legs, and when he boldly thrust his hand under her dress, and between her damp thighs, he smiled.

His thumb brushed against her slit, and between kisses he asked, “all for me?”

“All for you,” she nodded, biting his neck hard and leaving teeth marks on his skin.

“I guess you want me to be yours as well?” he joked, and then pulled his hand away from her pussy and licked his thumb. Before she could answer, he kissed her again, his tongue sliding against hers and allowing her to taste her own essence. It felt forbidden and scandalous and not something that Elain’s done before, but she liked it. She liked everything. And this kiss…it was unreal. It was unreal in its intensity and its pure eroticism. Who could even kiss like that? Apparently Azriel Night could. She was buzzing. Head to toe she was shivering, her fingers and toes were tingling, her tongue couldn’t get enough of him, of his taste, of how he felt against her own tongue.

Once they pulled apart to get some air into their lungs, Azriel smiled at her and rubbed his cold nose against hers.

“Can I kiss you now any time I want to?” he asked.

“Yes!!” she just about yelled. “And I will be kissing you!”

He clasped his hands on the small of her back and kissed her again, “well, that’s brilliant, because I really, really like kissing you.”

He then reached between their bodies and said, “Now, look what I have!”

“What?”

From his pocket, he took out a…carrot.

“Stole it from Fey,” he said conspiratorially, as if it explained something to the very perplexed Elain.

He grabbed her hand and said, “come on! We are building a snowman!”

“Now?”

“Well, of course now!” he said, looking at her like she was silly. “Next year we might be building one with our baby. This year, we gotta build it with our fur son.”

“What baby?!” she gasped, as he tugged her along, to the clearing where Piglet was burrowing through the snow, rolling in it and howling with excitement.

“You know–son, daughter. Baby.”

“We are having a baby now?”

“Starts with kissing, ends with a baby. That’s how it is.”

“I wasn’t planning on having any babies,” Elain argued feebly, but he only said, “plans change’.

The snow was thick and wet, but there wasn’t heaps of it, since it was London, after all.

“You do the head, I’ll do the base,” Azriel instructed, assessing the situation and figuring that they’d have enough snow for a small, modest snowman.

Turned out that Elain sucked at making a snowman. She wasn’t wearing gloves and her hands kept getting cold, so Azriel needed to continuously interrupt his own work, so he could blow into and kiss her freezing palms, which only descended into more kissing…mouth kissing. Meanwhile, their stupid pug kept destroying the round snow mounds that they managed to construct by jumping into them and rolling around happily. Elain’s boots were soaked through as well, so by the time Azriel finally managed to roll a decent base, he had to give his girl a piggyback ride, because she was freezing and shaking, while laughing uproariously. She was also filming his work on her phone, while Piglet hopped around them, trying to understand what was happening. Hanging precariously off Azriel’s back, Elain finally managed to roll a decent-enough ball, which they hefted together and carefully placed on top of the other ball.

“Pink, we need a stick,” Azriel instructed, and Piglet took off before Azriel even finished talking.

“Whoa,” he breathed, as Elain laughed, her arms wrapped around his neck, and her lips constantly making contact with his face. “I guess he really wanted that stick.”

Piglet returned with a stick, tossed it to Azriel, who fashioned one arm out of it, before sending the pug to fetch another. Soon their snowman had two arms, a couple of coins for eyes, and then, with great fanfare, Elain pushed the carrot into the head.

She barely managed to take a few photos and a short video for Piglet’s Insta account, before he began to circle the snowman curiously, barking and growling at it, and then attacking it viciously.

“Why are you so mean?!” Elain cried. “You are supposed to be gentle with it! Don’t eat it!”

Oh yeah, he was gonna eat it.

Piglet savagely munched on pieces of the snowman, licking and pulling clumps of snow, smacking his lips.

“Fucking animal,” Azriel laughed, keeping his arms wrapped tightly around Elain. “Are you cold?”

“I am,” she nodded. “But I don’t want to go back inside. This is so much fun!”

“Yeah? What else is fun?” he teased.

She drew her knuckles over his cheek, his now-wet hair and then stood on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to his cold mouth. He didn’t have to be asked twice and quickly took over, capturing her sweet mouth with his and eagerly coaxing her plump, buttery-scented lips apart. She whimpered against him, especially when his hands boldly slid to cup the curve of her behind, slipping beneath the coat and making her shiver from the cold. She didn’t care. She sighed warmly and deliciously into his mouth and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her cold, wet fingers tangling in his hair. Caressing his tongue with her own she opened up eagerly to the kiss, and Azriel responded in kind, deepening the caress of his tongue, kissing her filthy and hot, his lips both teasing, and dominating at once. It was dirty and open-mouthed, her kisses loud and maddeningly sticky, rendering his brain to almost naught–all he saw and felt was his gorgeous girl, finally, nearly all his.

Elain moaned against him and Azriel…pulled away abruptly and yelled, “Piglet! The fuck, you weirdo?!”

Elain turned around and gasped in shock, not knowing whether to scream, cry or laugh. So she did all three–laughing so hard, that tears sprung in her eyes.

Because Piglet burrowed into the snowman and successfully pulled out the carrot, which he was now crunching on, though it looked like he was making out with the snowman.

“Dr. Hannibal Piglet Lecter,” Azriel muttered. “Fucking savage pug.”

Azriel grabbed her phone and filmed the carnage.

From Piglet's Instagram: The carrot is no more

“This should pay for his upkeep for a month,” he said, knowing that the video will garner a million likes and comments.

Gripping the half-eaten carrot in his mouth Piglet rushed to them and demanded that Azriel pick him up.

“That’s it? You just give up?” Azriel laughed, as he grabbed the dog and pulled Elain closer to him.

When they returned to the house, the first thing they were greeted by was Nesta and Cassian, glaring at them and arms crossed on their chests.

“We saw you making out!” Cassian declared like he was Mother Superior at a convent.

“Guess the two of you failed as chaperones!” Azriel shrugged indifferently, while he helped Elain out of her coat.

“We didn’t fail!” Nesta bristled. “You two are out of control!”

Little did she know.

The next day

Dev arrived around 11:30 am. He hadn’t asked Azriel this yet, but he had wondered where Azriel planned to live once he and Elain got married. Elain’s house made much more sense for a family, not to mention that her office was here as well. But if Azriel was going to move here, Dev needed to consider where he was going to move as well. Russell Square, Holborn, Fitzrovia were really out of his budget. Azriel paid well, but these were some prime locations, and he’d have to rob a bank to afford something nice. Shame that he wasn’t a footballer who grew up with a billionaire duke, or a little heiress who inherited a damn mansion just because. Considering her sister’s place last night, Dev definitely thought that it was better to be born wealthy and healthy, than poor and ill.

The pug came out first, dressed in a full on morning suit, with a pale blue silk tie no less. He barked his greeting and headed for the car.

“Shake?” Dev asked, extending his hand. Piglet gave him his paw. Then Elain and Azriel came out of the house, holding hands like teenagers. No doubt about it, his old mate Azriel Night, the quiet, scarred boy whom Dev met in a group home when they were around eleven was in love. Azriel, who didn’t say much, leaving the talking to his rambunctious brother Cassian, but who possessed incredible speed, the ability to appear and disappear like a ghost, and a mean left hook that could fall even a grown man in a few seconds–that Azriel was now all grown up. And Dev was proud of him. Azriel deserved something good in his life. Something nice. Something pure and genuine. And this sweet little matchmaker of his, this fancy noble Lady and her posh pug somehow, amazingly, fit the bill.

Azriel opened the car door for Elain, and just as she climbed inside, he slapped her arse.

“I am a gentleman, baby,” he announced. “Always a man, not always gentle.”

“You can’t be like this in front of my father!” she warned.

“Oh, meeting the family?” Dev chuckled. “You ready for that, big man?”

“I’d have to meet him one day,” Azriel shrugged. “Guess today is the day.”

“So, where to? Kensington Palace? Buckingham?” Dev joked. Would he be terribly surprised of Elain said ‘yes’? not really.

“Mayfair,” she said. “Mount St.”

Of course. Dev wasn’t even surprised. An ultra posh street with Balenciaga, Rubinacci and exclusive jewellery stores, a caviar and champagne restaurant Scott’s, as well as the luxury Connaught hotel where basic rooms went for 1,000 quid a night.

“We usually go to Annabel’s for all of our birthdays,” Elain explained, and both Azriel and Dev shook their heads.

“Let me guess. Dad is a member?” Azriel chuckled. Annabel’s was an elegant private club with a dance floor for the famous, the dressed-up and the well-heeled.

Elain pursed her lips, indicating that he was.

“So why not today?”

“Feyre texted and said that we should go to dad’s,” Elain said. “Said to bring you,”

“Oh boy. I am getting somewhat nervous,” he joked, but Dev, who knew Azriel for a long, long time, noticed a note of worry in his friend’s voice. Azriel was all jokes and nonchalance and elegant swagger, but he was going to meet the father of the girl he loved. And that meant something. It was important.

It wasn’t a long drive and Dev soon parked next to a massive, three story Edwardian mansion. It was red brick with white trim and actual columns. Piglet barked excitedly, recognising the place.

“You’re going to go see grandpa?” Elain asked, stroking his head. Piglet barked again, raring to go.

“Whenever I have to leave him with my father–especially if I go on a holiday–I come back, and it’s basically ‘I shall require organic vegetables three times a day with freshly churned butter. A pup cup of the finest double cream delivered daily and milked from a prized cow in Oxfordshire. For dinner, I shall dine on a lightly seared steak, a bit of duck confit and a brioche toast. Oh, and a couple of mini cannoli straight from Naples’.”

“Somehow, I am not even a little bit surprised,” Azriel admitted and Dev nodded in agreement.

“The level of spoiling that he receives from my father is criminal.”

Azriel told himself that he was not nervous, when Elain took his arm, and they walked under the portico, the doors opening as if by magic.

There was a butler, who greeted them and called Elain ‘Lady Elain’. They walked through wide marble hallways and sitting rooms, Azriel feeling decidedly out of place even if he wouldn’t show it. Piglet tore through the house, howling happily, unconcerned about anything, and by the time they saw him next, it was in the dining room where a middle-aged gentleman was cooing and hugging the pug, rocking him like he was a baby.

To Azriel’s surprise, Nesta was here too, but also Cassian–which was unexpected, to say the least. Cassian raised his shoulders, indicating that he had no idea why he was here, though it didn’t look like he was greatly burdened by the company.

“Daddy!” Elain went to her father and he smiled at her.

“Good morning, pumpkin,”

Pumpkin? That made Azriel smile. But the nickname fit. She was his little pumpkin.

“Please meet Mr. Azriel Night,” Elain introduced them. “My father, Sir Charles Archeron.”

“Arsenal captain,” the older man nodded knowingly. “My girls are Tottenham fans. I am an Arsenal man myself. Though I do enjoy rugby a lot as well.”

“I am slowly pulling Elain and Piglet to my side,” Azriel teased.

“Oh, I saw all the photos on that Instagram that Elain has for the pup. He looked like a Gunner born and bred.”

Azriel laughed, “You follow him too?”

“How can I not,” he squeezed Piglet lovingly. “Barring my girls giving me actual grandchildren, this is so far, my only grand-pup,” he said dramatically.

Nesta rolled her eyes. Elain rolled her eyes.

And both groaned.

“This is what happens every time I mention grandchildren,” Mr. Archeron complained.

Just as he said the words, Rhys entered the room, holding a champagne flute, with Feyre on his arm.

“Oh, you’ve arrived!” Feyre exclaimed with a wide smile. “I was just showing Rhys around.”

“Why are we all here, by the way?” Nesta asked impatiently. “I was looking forward to Annabel’s.”

“Forgive the change of plans,” Rhysand said breezily. “We’ll be sure to go to Annabel’s soon.”

“Well then, what is it?” Nesta sipped her mimosa, while silent servants circulated around the room with trays of champagne. “We are all here now.”

“I am curious myself,” Mr. Archeron agreed, while he gave Piglet a piece of cheese. “And I am pleasantly surprised to see my three daughters with such fine gentlemen. All here together, today.”

Nesta was about to protest the implication that she was here with Cassian, but Cassian put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently, effectively quieting her down.

Rhysand and Feyre exchanged a glance, and then he said,

“Feyre and I got married earlier today. She is now Marchioness Feyre Archeron-Darling, Lady Darling. My wife.”

#elriel #elain archeron #azriel #azriel and elain #pro elriel #elain #elain x azriel #A Match Baked In Heaven #elriel fanfic #Elriel Fanfiction #my writing #acotar fanfiction #Three Brothers and three sisters #THe Bat Boys and the Archeron sisters #my fanfic #new chapter

59 notes · View notes