#it seems he already respects her in ways that Azriel doesn’t | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thehighladywrites · 3 months

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- “if it is so wrong, why does it feel so good?”

pairing: stalker/perv!azriel x reader, nesta, elain and feyre mentioned

summary: stalking and perving is azriel’s favorite activities. What happens when you finally drop the oblivious mask and confront him

warnings: dark content, stalking, perving (on literally everyone), breaking and entering, stealing panties, az having a darker side, getting turned on by your fear, az eating you out, reader being bold and hot as fuck omg,

amara’s note: okay this is very short bc it’s my first time writing a dark fic. Also i hope you like it and pls read the warnings.

Azriel knows he is some sort of sick freak. He knows he should resist his sinful glances at Feyre when she's cozied up on Rhysand's lap. He flexes a little extra just to spark Nesta's desires, fully aware of her fantasies. And as for Elain, well, let's just say he's playing a forbidden game of spying while she bends over to plant her greens.

Azriel's is extremely aware he shouldn't be harboring forbidden desires or indulging in the secret pleasure of stalking someone as seemingly innocent as yourself.

Azriel, the ultimate mastermind, keeps everyone guessing. Who would suspect the quiet, brooding and publicly respected spymaster to be a closeted perv and sick stalker? It's his most guarded secret hidden beneath the intimidating exterior.

Little does Azriel know, you're fully aware of his perverse behavior—his wandering eyes and spying shadows. It surprises you that no one has figured him out yet; after all, it seems quite apparent, doesn't it?

You don’t miss his lurking shadows following you around for hours. A regular fae would’ve missed it but not you. You’ve grown accustomed to him and his ways. You know him better than anyone else and you definitely know of his stalker tendencies.

Azriel believes he's smooth, avoiding outright ogling. Instead, he strategically glances at you during training with Cassian and while sharpening his weapons, subtly appreciating the way your body moves.

Pervert azriel walks up to you, complimenting your form, claiming while it’s good there’s something you need to fix. You don’t mind if he needs to grab your waist while fixing your pose right? And of course you’ll excuse him if he accidentally brushes against your boobs and ass. I mean he just wants to help you perfect your form!

He watches you walking through Velaris from the shadows, always hiding one of his shadows with you. He tells himself that he does it for your safety. Who knows, you might be attacked and he needs to be ready.

He absolutely doesn’t want to hear how much of a hypocrite he is for also stalking you in the safety of your home aswell.

Azriel steals your panties, silently breaking into your room as he looks through your drawers, skimming through the collection of panties. He promises himself it’s the last time, though he’s made the same pledge seven times before.

Azriel's stalking tendencies lead him to roam through your belongings, touching everything to become familiar with your world. He goes to your vanity, picking up your perfumes, and indulges in the forbidden pleasure of smelling the one thing he desires most—you.

Lying in your bed, his head on your pillow, he starts shifting in the sheets, inhaling more of your scent. He revels in the trespass and wrongness of being in your bed, knowing that you might catch a hint of his own scent lingering there, a twisted thought crossing his mind that it could confuse, frighten, or even arouse you.

His cock swells at the thought of you scared, heart beating fast, trying to place who the scent belongs to.

He looks around and finds one of your shirts on the bed and picks it up to his nose.

Then he does the one thing he swore he would never stoop to. He pulls out his already hard cock and strokes it while inhaling your scent from the shirt.

—

He has timed you and learned your schedule hence why he now knows that you’ll be in the shower for the next twenty minutes, giving him the perfect opportunity for his perverse activities. He’ll pick up the laciest most intricate pair, keeping it in his room as some sort of trophy with the other stuff he has taken from you. No one can enter into his room anyways, it’s safe…

Pervert Azriel looks through the little crack in your door as you stand there posing infront of a mirror while wearing pretty much nothing. A lacy little lingerie set as you touch your body, hands traveling all over your tits, waist, ass then up through your hair as you spin around, admiring yourself.

You know Azriel is standing at your door, he isn’t really all that subtle with his hand down his pants as he jerks off at the sight of you.

It’s almost enough to make your eyes roll back into the back of your head, fucking gods, he’s pathetic.

You wanted to fuck him for the longest time. He could just ask you to fuck and you’d say yes yet here he is thinking he’s slick as he pervs on you. Even with all that in mind, there’s a sick, twisted adrenaline rush spreading through your body at the thought of the esteemed and highly respected spymaster doing something so dark and wrong like this.

“I know you're there, Az. Come out,” you say, a wicked smile forming on your face as you plot to utterly humiliate him.

His entire body freezes and Azriel cautiously emerges from the shadows, realizing he's been caught. You maintain that mischievous grin, ready to unleash your plan. The air thickens with anticipation as the confrontation unfolds.

“Az?”

He looks like he’s about to jump out of the nearest window as he looks at you through the mirror.

“Yes?”

“Why are you such a disgusting little pervert? Here I am trying on some clothes and you’re just perving on me. How do you think that makes me feel? I mean I could be super afraid and you wouldn’t have any remorse? Who does something like that?”

Azriel's face heats up at the mocking question, flushing as he tries to respond.

“Az, I asked you a question,” you assert, walking over to him. His embarrassment is palpable as he apologizes, rambling about not knowing what came over him, begging you not to tell anyone.

You already know the answer, and a knowing smile plays on your lips as he seeks forgiveness.

“You’ve done a very bad thing, Azriel. Bad people deserve to be punished. You of all people understand that, right?”

Pushing him back onto one of the sofas in your room, you creep closer, leaning over to whisper. Looking down at him, you place your hand on his cheek, letting your nails dig in a little.

“I think you deserved to be punished.”

Azriel's heart raced, fearing exposure for his hidden activities. Was this it? Would you punish him by revealing his actions to everyone?

Before he could plead for forgiveness, you stood up, walking back to your bed and beckoning him over with two fingers.

As he approached, ready to sit, you extended your leg, placing your foot on his stomach, halting him in his tracks..

“Not so fast,” you assert, a wicked smile playing on your lips. “The bed is reserved for me. You can kneel on the floor.”

Azriel complies, gracefully sinking to his knees. His gaze meets yours, his beautiful eyes revealing a mixture of submission and desire.

“You’re going to eat my pussy. If you manage to make me cum, I won’t tell anyone about your disgusting behavior, understand?”

He couldn't believe what was unfolding. Was he really about to taste you? About to experience the fantasy he'd daydreamed about every single day? He nods, but a disapproving tsk follows.

“I need more than a nod, Azriel. Do you understand?”

A quick, “Yes, I understand,” escapes his lips.

You can't help but smile at the swiftness of his compliance.

“That’s good. Now, I’ll be taking off my bra and panties and they’re very expensive and new so they better not go missing.”

Azriel affirms his understanding and then proceeds to drool over the way you slowly strip infront of him before you spread your legs and tell him to start.

He grabs your thighs and pulls you closer to the edge as he dips his head down to run his tounge up and down your slit, tasting you before playing with your clit.

You gasp in pleasure, letting out moans as your hands find their way to his hair, urging him to keep going.

Azriel’s hands dig into your thighs that are currently smushing his head. He decides to let you continue, telling himself that if he dies like this, he'd go down as the happiest person in history.

“T-that’s it, right there.”

A breathy moan escapes your lips as you feel two of his fingers enter you. Your hands grab his dark soft hair as he started pumping his fingers, relishing at the way your soaking cunt is squelching and squeezing him.

You whimper at the way his thick fingers strecth you out then curl against that secret spot, making your eyes roll to the back of your head. You start to slowly fuck yourself on them, eager for more of him.

“You taste even better than I imagined, fuck.”

His desperate voice only spurred you on.

It doesn’t take much longer for that feeling to build up in your stomach, the tight cord eventually snapping. You squeeze and throb around his fingers as you cum hard, letting out whines and mumbles.

Azriel helps you ride out your high, memorizing every facial expression in case this is the last time you ever let him this close again.

He pulls out his fingers and lick them clean then goes back and licks your pussy clean.

You let out a giggle at the sight before you, casting him a look of fake sympathy as you pull yourself together.

“Well, look at that. Seems like I’ll be keeping your secret after all. I mean, what a shame to loose such a good little pussy eater, right? I might just keep you around.”

You beckon him to rise, tossing your underwear onto the sofa before heading to the bathroom to clean up.

Glancing back at his flushed face and heavy breathing, you offer a secret smile.

“Who knows, next time I might even let you fuck me.”

Turning around, you leave him to his thoughts as the shower starts.

Azriel stands there for a moment, his desire evident. Unable to resist, he takes your panties and bra, always craving something of yours.

He promises to himself that he won't do it for an eighth time before hurrying back to his room, to finally help himself

🏷️ taglist: @stasiereads @clairebear08 @daycourtofficial @historiaxvanserra @rowaelinsdaughter @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @redbleedingrose @danikamariewrites @readychilledwine @nocasdatsgay

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tadpolesonalgae · 5 months

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Can’t Bring Myself To Hate You - Part 10[*]

Pairing: Azriel x Third-Oldest-Archeron-Sister!Reader

A/N: Well, buckle up I guess

Warnings: Plot™️, I know clocks are canon but it still feels weird to do this, starting heavy 💪

Word Count: 6,012

-Part 9- -Part 11-

He sighs.

It’s not like she can help the way she is. Not like she can help the fact that whenever she tries to make things better it simply creates more work for him to do. By receding into her room, he has to pay more attention to when she appears, becoming extra vigilant in the moments she steps outside.

He shouldn’t be so harsh. Sometimes fatigue clouds his judgement, enough so it becomes apparent to even himself sleep is a necessary luxury. Still, they’re harmless behaviours really. Small habits that with the right guidance will enable her to flourish again.

A broken bone that needs to be left to set, to be good as new.

6:57 p.m.

Azriel massages his temples, the beginning aches of a headache making themselves apparent. Eases in a breath, counts, and releases. It seems a night of rest is unavoidable, but there’s so much to be done. He could perhaps rearrange breakfast…but that would collide nastily with training. Maybe moving lunch to three instead? But then that would impact the start time of going though the towering stack of reports, which would in turn result in him working later anyway.

Thick brows narrow as he prowls silently down the hallway of the River House, deciding to leave for some peace and quiet. It’s not an idea he’s keen on, but if he dips out of practice with Cassian atop the House of Wind tomorrow…that would work. Frustration simmers in his knuckles, tightening the trapezius. He doesn’t like the idea of skipping over valuable training time with the priestesses. They’re forcing themselves out of their comfort zone. The least he can do is respect their resolve by attending.

He’s so caught up in thoughts of schedule and routine he only realises she’s in the River House, on the same floor, when she’s a single corridor away. Another thing he needs to keep an eye on. Swiftly reorganises his thoughts, rotating and recalling the information his shadows have provided over the recent days and hours. The scraps of speculations Mor had offered from a single outing. If he remembers correctly, she will have just gotten back from her trip with Mor now. So why is she here? She should be back up at the House by now, retreating to her room away from everyone else.

Still, he rounds the corner in time to see her click a door closed—her sister’s. His curiosity piques, shadows already recollecting the news they’ve catalogued for the female with soft, cocoa eyes. Gloves still adorn her hands, but it does nothing to conceal their tremor.

Attention narrows in on her, darkness skittering back into the corners of the hallway, hiding between his wings as he approaches. Her lips are chapped and tight, features strained as her gloved hand rests for a moment atop the handle. Appearing in her own world—eyes glazed and vacant. Her jaw is wound tighter than usual, tight enough he can hear the grinding of enamel, like bone and porcelain powdered against rock. Brows draw together at the notice of her waxen complexion, skin gleaming faintly with peaky dew.

Blank eyes flick up to meet his own, and he steps forward. Her hand stiffens on the handle, posture turning rigid. Scent taking on a tang he’s far too familiar with from nights spent with his blade. He comes to a stop, keeping his distance from her taut form.

Azriel’s first thoughts are she must be pushing too hard with her magic. Honestly, he hadn’t anticipated her to be so resolved in mastering her power independently. Neither had he anticipated her making a lick of progress. At least not through measures that a sensible mentor would allow.

He should never have yielded to her look of despair. She’d be safer if he had simply insisted on doing things correctly. A foolish mistake on his part, and now she might be going down the wrong path. “Are you okay?” He asks, splitting his weight equally between each foot, resting in his place. Watches the roll of her throat, shifting in place, away from Elain’s door. Had there been an argument?

She nods her head, trying to straighten her spine as she sometimes does when pulling herself together. The effect is nullified by the was she hangs her head, never quite succeeding in meeting his eye for extended periods. He shouldn’t have ignored it for so long. Leaving something like that unchecked… Well, he should have known better.

“I’m—” She clears her throat, and tries again. “Good. I’m fine.” Nods to herself, eyeing the floorboards with bland eyes. He waits quietly, allowing the silence to coax her into unravelling. She shifts again, stepping away from Elain’s door, her gaze flitting about the corridor. Flicks to the stairs behind him, leading down to the exit—likely wanting to return to her haven up in the House by now.

Eyes regain a little focus, pupils contracting as a nervous smile quirks her mouth, nodding to the door as she makes for the stairs. “We were just speaking,” she elaborates, moving away hastily. “Catching up.”

Azriel watches, noting the briskness of her steps. It’s unusual for her to be so keen to leave his presence. What had happened?

“Wait,” he says, turning as she makes to move past him, peering at the floor, marking her steps. She pauses, gloved hand resting on the carved and polished banister. He steps forward, morbidly intrigued by the glaze in her eyes, as if made of glass. “You aren’t well,” he states. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine,” you repeat blandly, “just tired.”

Something bad then, if she’s not willing to even discuss whatever exchange happened with Elain.

Shadows loiter at the threshold, waiting to hear for any sounds that might offer hints, like the soft breath of cries, or the gentle splash of muffled tears. Nothing.

She turns again, descending the stairs, sweeping down the case quietly as she makes a bee-line for the door, vanishing out into the dark, leaving him perplexed and curious. A dangerous combination for the Spymaster.

She’d looked shaken up, so he should make sure things are okay.

It’s been a long while since he last had a one-on-one conversation with the soft-eyed female.

Azriel turns in the hallway, moving back the way she’d come.

8:36 a.m.

“We should talk.”

His words pull you from the world of bliss that had been graciously clouding your mind. Peer down at him from where you’re straddling his lap, pale sheets crumpled, clothes strewn about from being swiftly discarded. “About what?”

Thick, dark brows narrow over piercing golden eyes, full lips twisting down in the corners. Your own features shift to match his, “now, Bas?”

He sighs, large, warm hands splaying across the bruised skin of your hips. “I know, I know, I suck at timing. No need to tell me.” Almost immediately the edges of your lips lift up, a smile tugging at your mouth, vanquishing the momentary surge of annoyance. Fingers lightly press into the softness of his chest, spine losing its rigidity, relaxing your weight back onto him. Feeling slightly dizzy as pleasure sinks into your bones.

“Fine,” you mutter, playfully, “what is it?”

Bas shifts beneath you, thumbs soothing your skin, your back arching as you attempt to still the swirl of your hips. “Two things, actually,” he clarifies reaching higher, a reassuring pressure over your ribcage, rubbing to your waist. Peek down at him, raising a brow, “I wondered why you weren’t giving me a hard time tonight,” —shake your head, smiling slightly— “I should have known.”

He offers a tight smile and your own slips away. “Now you’re worrying me,” you murmur quietly, fingers curling. “What is it?” Golden eyes meet your own, concern shining in their depths, “you’ve been off recently. And I’m worried. So, it’s fine to be emotionally intimate too… Yeah?”

You blink, lips parting in surprise. “I’ve been…off?” Brow furrows in confusion, “what do you mean by that? Am I doing something wrong?” It’s an earnest question, yet it resonates a little deeper than you had expected. Thankfully he doesn’t pick up on the inner conflict. “It’s not that,” he reassures, hands stroking slowly, lightly. “But you’ve worn the same dress the last three times I’ve seen you.”

Internally, you cringe, making to pull away. “Do I smell?” You ask, wincing, bringing your arms to your chest. A slight smile tugs at his lips then, “no.” Relax a little, hands twining as he brings them back to his torso. “But…you taking care of yourself up there?” Sigh, shoulders losing their tension, lips resting into a quirked position.

“I’m fine, Bas. I like it up there, where it’s quiet, and—”

“No.” He interjects gently, hand slipping from yours, pushing a strand of hair from your cheek. Lightly cups your jaw, thumb skimming across the skin. “I mean up there.”

Spine stiffens, fingers freezing. Breath pauses. “Everything’s fine,” you murmur, watching him. He gives a look that urges you to stop lying, squeezing your hands. “Talk to me,” he says in response. “Something’s up. I can tell.”

“Bas—”

“Don’t even try,” he murmurs, golden eyes shimmering as he peers up at you. “I know what that feels like,” he whispers, hand raising to skim your breast, thumb brushing atop your heart. “I know change is difficult.”

“Bas, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Eyes lock, staring at one another.

His hand falls away.

Muscle loosens.

Licks his lips, gaze flitting elsewhere. “I was lonely too, when the attack happened.” Spine softens, brows tightening. Wait silently for him to continue. Licks his lips again, returning to watch you. “Ma… It was hard on both of us, losing pa. Y’know one day he was there, then the next it’s just us.” His throat rolls, eyes glazing as he looks into the middle distance. “We had our own ways of dealing with it—the loss. Mother knows I can’t talk about healthy coping mechanisms, I practically fucked anything that would let me. Probably drank more than I should have, too.”

The attack.

You and your sisters hadn’t yet come here, still mortally human and wonderfully unaware. Well, you and Elain, anyway. Even now, there were still signs of the aftermath. Traces of grief that had yet to be healed.

He shakes his head slowly, limbs turning stiff. “It got… I know what it’s like.” Golden eyes latch to your own. “So talk to me. Don’t keep that—…stuff, to yourself.” Shake your head, breaking the connection, pulling away. “There’s nothing to talk about. Stop prying.” Shake off the heaviness, easing a breath. “What else did you want to talk about?”

His expression is indiscernible, brows dipped, lips tugged down, eyes swirling with molten gold. Shifts beneath you, your hands pressing to his chest to steady yourself as he raises into a sitting position. Moving to be eye-to-eye, hands spanning your waist, gently keeping you still. Fingers brush the concealed muscle of his shoulders, linking at his back, hips winding in gentle encouragement.

A rough-skinned palm settles on the nape of your neck, sliding and gripping your hair lightly. Thumb oscillates over your waist. Calling up loneliness from the pit of your chest. Lips brush your mouth, the slightest caress of hot skin that feels like heated silk and tastes like spices and thyme. He looks like he’s about to try again, but decides against it, instead pulling you forward.

Only you’re taken to the crook of his shoulder, palm cupping the back of your head. His free arm snakes up your back, cradling you to his chest. Keeping you close by. At first you’re stiff, unsure how to react, muscle locks as his skin presses hot to your own, smooth and soft. Warm hands soothe along your spine, gently skimming across the expanse, tracing the knuckles of bone. Fingers draw light patterns atop, oscillating and sketching with reassuring steadiness.

He makes no move to kiss you, just holding you still, the thick locs of his hair scratching softly against the nape of your neck. His arm spans across the back of your waist, hand flattening against your side, thumbing over the skin, soothing you to melt.

Your bones begin to feel heavy in your body, sinking low as you hesitantly raise your arms to lock over his sturdy shoulders, tentatively shuffling to rest your cheek against him. Inhale slowly, deeply, taking in his scent—like rosemary and myrrh. He settles across your skin, and you sink deeper, emotion thawing as you melt into his arms, so tender and soft. Healing and welcoming.

Wet drops splash atop his shoulders, dripping onto dark skin as arms pull a little tighter, squeezing as lips tremble. Spine shudders, soft breaths stuttering as tears trickle down your cheeks, wetting strands of hair as fingers grip closer. Full lips graze your temple, and you feel those small cracks that had emerged during your argument with Feyre begin to spiderweb out, restraint fracturing just a little more.

Lower lip wobbles, and you curl around him tighter, body shuddering with quiet sobs as he holds you. Dry hands wrap into fists, nails biting the flesh of your arms as you fall into him, wanting to be washed away.

To peacefully melt to a place far from memory.

Slowly fade into absence.

2:43 p.m.

The iron-cast ring weighs on your palm, the glittering blue jewel of its swollen abdomen gazing up at you like silver moonlight dripping to dark, gleaming midnight. Polished and sharp like armour and blade.

“Do you like it?” Mor asks from your side, peering over your shoulder. You’d heard her footsteps that time, but shake your head absently, putting the ring back where it belongs. “It’s a lovely piece of jewellery,” you hedge, not wanting to talk badly when the shopkeepers are around. Spiders are still a little too close to home—insects at all, really.

She hums quietly, attention skimming to a piece beside it: a silver band fashioned to the stalk of a flower, the petals looking like stretched out droplets of warm citrine. Mor examines it for a moment, then holds it out for you to look at, which you do. “What about this one?” Fingers mindlessly come up to fumble with the glass pendant at your neck, steadily becoming a habit. “It’s very pretty,” you answer, hoping it suffices. Mor hums again, seemingly getting the hint, returning it to sit on the counter.

“You liked the dress, didn’t you?” She asks, quietly. Brows dip together as you turn in her direction, cascading golden hair loosely tied back. “I mean you wanted it. Not just because I was pushing you to get something.” A beat of quiet passes, and you examine her expression: the edges of plush and pillowy lips lengthened by slight worry lines, brow marginally dipped in the centre. Minute shifts in features that would have gone undetected by human eyes.

Throat rolls as you look away, but nod. “I did like it,” you mumble, fumbling your words, “do like it. Thank you.”

“Have you worn it yet?” She asks. Dread ices your skin, eyes flitting to honey warm irises. “I— No…” you manage honestly. Look away, scanning the jewels, that blue spider again catching your attention. “It’s a special dress,” you murmur, “I was waiting for a special occasion.”

More quiet beats between you, background chatter buzzing through your mind. But then she nods, accepting your answer. “It looks nice on you,” she replies, picking up a necklace this time—a thin chain of gold that shimmers beneath the daylight streaming in from the windows. Dip your head in silent thanks.

Peer out into the streets, watching fae pass by, enjoying their lives. Spots of colour splashing along as they go about their day. Eyes mark a small shop across the road, stools holding little trinkets like cups and pottery spilling out onto the cobbles, ceramics gleaming beneath the lowering sun. Plants sway in the crisp breeze outside, the nippy winds of early autumn already setting in.

Ease in a steady breath—there’s less than a week left until you’re due to complete your side of the agreement, and only small bits and pieces of progress to show. Not enough to avoid bringing it up to the rest of them.

Glance at Mor from the corner of your eye, watching through your peripherals as she holds up a necklace to herself, peering into a mirror. How would she react if you told her right now? She’d probably smile and tell you that’s great. Maybe ask you to show her or give a demonstration. The breath releases, knowing that question will crop up eventually. Seeking results when you have none to provide.

“Are you coming to dinner tonight?” She asks breaking you out of your wondering. Blink, pulling yourself back down, having forgotten about the extra supper they’d decided to fit in. Shake your head, turning your attention back to the jewellery stand, then flitting out to the shop. “I’m feeling pretty tired,” you reply quietly, “so I don’t think so.”

“Sure?” She says absently, already having moved onto the next stand. “The food’s really great—pork that practically comes part on your tongue. And the jam that goes with it is absolutely mouth-watering,” she dreams, smiling faintly as her fingers scrunch with anticipation. Your nose wrinkles for a split-second before you shut off the reaction, offering a bland smile, “how lovely.”

“You must try it at some point,” she gushes, turning to you now, accessories forgotten. “It’s one of my favourite places in Velaris. All the dishes they serve are,” —her hand flexes, as if trying to grasp onto something, eyes briefly shutting in bliss— “amazing.”

You smile again. “I’m sure.”

Warm-honey eyes narrow on you, examining the set of your expression. “You liked the soup,” she says, “what else do you like?” Throat rolls and you shift on your feet, fumbling. “Mash?” Mor nods slowly, remaining silent; in doing so forcing you to speak, too awkward to allow it to continue. “With thyme… Beans are nice, too?” She continues her bout of silence, quietly watching you. “The rice and…sauce. That’s been nice. Very nice.”

Her brows squish together, tension coiling in your stomach and shoulders. Lick your lips. “The—…” You pause, not knowing the name of the food. “The doughy balls? With…mushroom? in the middle? With—”

Eyes pop open. “You don’t eat meat.”

“I eat meat,” you say, hurriedly, but she’s in her own world.

“That’s why Az—” Her hand smacks up onto her forehead and you internally cringe—was the coddling that noticeable? To everyone but you?

“Why didn’t you say anything?” She asks, a mix of shock and exasperation lining her tone as she stares at you. Throat rolls and you turn away from her, picking up the silver band with the citrine-coloured flower. “I can eat meat just fine,” you mutter quietly, “it’s not as though there was anything else.”

“There was the soup,” she argues, still facing you, “you could have asked me to pass it to you—I even had some for myself.”

“No, I mean—” —eyes lock, her brows risen in confusion, not accusation. You sigh, shaking your head. “Sorry. Forget I said anything…” Her neatly groomed brows dip, head tilting ever so slightly. “No, what were you going to say?” She asks, voice quietening. Glance at her sidelong, fiddling with the ring in your hand, sliding it on and off your gloved little finger—far too large for it to possibly get stuck on. Lick your lips, spinning the band as you fidget. “I just mean, it’s basically all we ate back then,” you mumble, peering at your feet with forced interest. “Just brings back some bad memories, is all. Nothing I can’t deal with.”

She sighs softly, and guilt tightens your stomach, putting the now-warm ring down, listening to it clink on the glass. “You don’t like meat,” she states. It’s not a question.

“I can eat it,” you counter quietly, not wanting to be a bother. You’ve seen how much the others enjoy it. “But you wouldn’t choose it,” she returns, keeping her body open as she faces you. Shift on your feet, “I… No.”

Mor nods, hair glinting like freshly spun straw beneath a summer day. “Then we can eat somewhere else. Or order different dishes,” she reasons smoothly, “I’ll just mention it to the others since none of us even knew. Well, I suppose Az—”

“Please don’t,” you interrupt, cringing internally. “It’s fine. Meat’s good for you and I shouldn’t be so picky anyway. It’s annoying.”

“To who?” She asks, making you glance at her. “Who does it annoy?” She repeats, seemingly earnestly. “It’s silly to switch restaurants just because of…because of something so small. I can eat when I get back, anyway. It’s fine.”

She looks appalled.

“Mor, please don’t say anything,” you repeat quietly, meeting her eyes, a pained look unknowingly on your features. “I’m fine with how things are. Don’t make a big deal out of it.” Her brow narrows, eyes flicking around the shop, taking in the other customers. “None of us would mind,” she says quietly. “You wouldn’t be causing a problem. We’ll just order more dishes without meat. We don’t have to change places if nobody wants to.”

But you shake your head adamantly. “I can eat when I get home. Please don’t change what you order just because—”

“Why don’t you deserve to eat food you like?” She asks sharply, voice remaining quiet but harsh. Blink at the tone, stiffening briefly before tension uncoils from your muscles. “It’s not like that,” you reply, turning from the display, slowly stepping toward the door. Mor follows beside you, appearing to have lost interest in the surrounding trinkets.

“No?” She asks, glancing at you through her peripherals. “What’s it like, then?”

You pause in the street, feet halting their movement as the question registers. She halts at your side, slowing to a stop, attention turned to you. “Mor, I don’t know how I could possibly put into words…” A heavy sigh escapes from you, shoulders sloping, exhaustion lining your eyes. “Never mind. Forget it.” Spine straightens, continuing heavily across the street to the shop with the little carvings and pieces of glazed pottery.

She follows quietly as you wander toward the stalls, inspecting the bits and bobs on display. Watches you quietly, taking in the ankle-length dress, clunky boots, thick cardigan and scarf. The vomit-yellow gloves. She should at least find another pair with a lighter colour for you. “You know,” she begins softly, a hint of a smile in her tone, “for someone so reserved, I didn’t expect you to be so stubborn.”

Fingers freeze for a moment, reaching out toward a small carving of a woman holding some drooping daisies. Breath catches, before you manage to resume motion, picking up the small figurine. “Sorry,” you mumble, “I don’t mean to be.”

“That’s not a bad thing,” she murmurs. “You’re strong willed. It’ll serve you well.”

But you shake your head in denial. “Feyre’s strong willed. So is Nesta.”

“Do you think Elain is?” Mor asks, holding up a glazed mug she clearly has no interest in. Your brow dips, peering at her, not having anticipated the change of direction. “Why are you asking?”

“She’s been quiet, no?”

Turn your attention back to the woman in your hand, flipping her over to peer at the lines of her dress—swaying in a breeze. I wonder why… You think sardonically. Instead a hum lulls from your mouth, non-committal and vague. Mor nods her head, again picking up those minute hints you’re unaware you’re even capable of dropping.

“That’s a nice carving,” she says brightly, redirecting the conversation without a hitch, smooth fluidity long ago mastered. “Your father was a carpenter, wasn’t he?” She asks softly. “Would you like it?”

Gloved fingers rub the concealed skin of your other hand, knuckles itching for reprieve. Under ordinary circumstances, you would have declined the offer— it looks well carved. Not that you have an eye for such things. This time, however, you can make an exception. “That would be nice,” you answer quietly, “thank you.”

Swallow down the apology that had been slowly making it’s way up from your stomach.

She smiles then, and you look away.

She’s far too bright.

6:49 p.m.

You excuse yourself as soon as you step inside, heading up the stairs and along the hallway before returning to the House of Wind. Walk quietly along the floorboards, hoping to avoid any unnecessary confrontations. Reach the door you’re looking for, landing a series of knocks to the hardwood. “Elain?” You call, listening for a reply. She answers, letting you to come in, voice soft but terse.

The door swings open on oiled hinges, and you step inside, hearing it snick shut at your back. Eyes instantly locate your sister, sat in a large armchair facing the lit fireplace. Curtains are drawn, blocking out what little light remained in the sky, room set aglow with the golden-orange of flame. Cocoa melts to something soft and spicy as she peers into it, and you wonder if she’s perhaps missing Lucien.

“Hey,” you mumble quietly, noting how she seems kind of distant. You can’t help but be reminded of those initial months, the transitional stages of your lives where the world was turned upside down. How she’d shut down almost entirely, rarely speaking. Rarer still to get anything coherent, like she was trapped in a dream state. “I just…I wanted to see you,” you murmur, moving toward her.

Haunted eyes flick up to meet you, blank as they take you in with ghostly smoothness. She blinks and it’s gone, gesturing to a seat opposite from her, closer to the fire but angled for prime conversation. A smile lifts the edges of her mouth, etched with strain, chest stretching as you take in her fatigue.

Sigh heavily, settling into the plush armchair, remaining straight-backed as you put the paper bag at your feet, careful with the little carving. Wait for a beat to pass before looking to her, cocoa already reattached to the fire. “Elain,” you call quietly, gaining her attention. In the light of the flame the circles beneath her eyes are more pronounced, shadow flickering across the heavy crescents. Worry takes root in your gut—it seems to be taking more of a tole on her than you’d thought.

“You went out with Mor today didn’t you?” Elain asks, voice soft and faint, as if coming out of a daze. A shy smile curves your lips, nodding. “How was it?” She asks distantly, gently curled hair hanging in rich ringlets, tight and silky as they spill down the lilac night gown she likes. Throat rolls, turning your attention to the fire. Will this ever be an easy subject between the two of you? Between any of you?

Eyes flit down to the bag, pulling it up into your lap for comfort. “It was good,” you manage softly, nodding. “It was…nice. To be outside. Around someone, for a little.” Elain nods, a bland smile on her face, though you don’t doubt its sincerity. “I—…Mor’s nice,” you add, fumbling your words as you try to direct the flow of the conversation toward what you’re trying to get at. But you’ve never been good at reading the room, and it’s showing.

“You should…I mean, it would be nice for you to come along sometime…” you suggest, trailing off as fingers wring together in your lap, playing with the paper handle of the bag. “We could…I don’t know…” Shift in the chair as you try to think of something. “I’m sure there are some shops for gardening, or somewhere to sample pastries? You’re trying out pastries at the moment, aren’t you?” Eyes flit to your sister, the smile gone from her lips, lids heavy as she soaks in the heat of the fire. Letting it drink her in.

She’s quiet, and it’s obvious something’s off. Or is she just tired? She’d told you she’d been sleeping badly recently, has it not yet gotten better? Run your attention over her supple form, smooth skin over tight knuckles, the lilac of the fabric complimenting her drained complexion, dark circles beneath her eyes making the rich coca of her irises deeper, swirling with thought. They flick to you suddenly, shadow being cast across her delicate features as she turns, as if about to speak.

You look down into your lap abruptly, staring at the little carving. “I miss dad,” you blurt out quietly, the words being hauled up your throat, spat out into the air.

Elain stiffens in your peripherals, and your lips press together tight. Heart heavies, shoulders no longer being held taut as you begin to drown into the cushion. “I know…” you begin quietly, thoughts eddying away once you try to grasp for them. Just stare at the maiden holding the drooping daisies. “I was thinking about him,” you say quietly, managing to keep your voice somewhat even. “Earlier, when I was out with Mor,” you clarify, reaching into the bag.

Push the paper apart, reaching for the female figurine. Fingers brush the smooth wood of the carved figure, the pads able to sense the very grain with heightened nerve endings. She’s hewn from a darker material, deep brown and riddled with smooth and polished knots, creating a labyrinthine twist of swirling lines and wrinkles. It was probably once a beautiful piece of trunk, carried from a forest to a carpenters shop, whittled away until the figure emerged.

“I want to speak with you.”

You look up, hand stilling, fingers grasping the carving. Maybe…you’ve learned in the past it’s better to let someone else lead the conversation. Yours don’t seem to go anywhere unless the other is interested in a continuation.

“Okay,” you murmur, releasing the statue, pulling free as you return the bag to your feet, set aside so you can deliver her your full attention. “What is it?”

Elain blinks slowly, and hairs rise on the back of your neck.

“Elain?” You encourage, no more than a whisper.

For a long moment she won’t speak, just watching intently, as if she can see through you and is examining the sub-atomic structure of your soul, down to the bits and bobs between. Stiffen as cocoa bores into you, looking far older than should be possible as the flame flickers dully in muted brown. Throat rolls, trying to maintain the connection, letting her know you’re there. She’s been around for you; it’s the least you can do.

The contact breaks, her lids closing briefly, gaze returning to quietly observe the fire. Taking in its motion—how the heat wells, practically rolling from the hearth to the rugged floorboards. “There’s been something…” Elegant brows dip almost imperceptibly, the edges of her delicate mouth quivering, lips parted on a syllable. Close again, as if the words won’t suffice for what she’s trying to say. The fire almost seems to match her, growing more intense as she stares into it, shadows darkening as they writhe across the walls, like the wings of a great creature.

“I haven’t been sleeping well,” she murmurs absently.

Worry sparks across your chest but you say nothing, allowing her to articulate her thoughts at the pace she wishes.

Cocoa returns to you, the colour of conkers—you can picture them sitting cozily among the branches of a dense forest, perfectly in place. “I need you to be calm,” she says firmly. “Can you do that for me?” Brow narrows in confusion, attention fading form your body as it’s directed to your older sister, posture lithe but firm. Sitting with the preternatural stillness of the fae, and something more… Something beyond what even…

You nod—as if your voice might break whatever she’s fallen into. Might cause a change in mind, your chance to comfort her lost. She stares for a moment longer, quiet and observing. An unwelcome itch builds beneath your knuckles, but you push it away, attention solely on your older sister. Her pupils seem to be the wrong size, as if you’re something far off in the distance that she’s struggling to focus on. Her posture relaxes, silently settling into the depth of her armchair, as if it might hold her together.

“Sleep has been difficult as of late,” she murmurs, eyes locked to yours and you find yourself unable to look away. She keeps herself still; poised; refined. Even in the undress of her lilac night robe, she’s collected, but there’s something off tonight. You nod in understanding—sleeping can be difficult. Especially after the war.

“Have you been taking care of yourself?” The question pulls from your lips before it’s fully formed in your mind. A faint smile sharpens her mouth—hairs prickling at the nape of your neck. Cocoa blinks, and the sharpness has faded, settling into the familiar gentle curve that makes Elain herself. “I’m perfectly fine,” she replies quietly, though her voice is strained. Eyes again run over you, weighing. Again you keep still, enduring the assessment.

Tongue peeks out to wet her lips, shadows flickering across her face as she shifts in her seat. “I’ve been trying some different tonics,” she admits quietly. “Chamomile, root ginger, valerian…they work fine, and I end up falling asleep swiftly.”

A dull wave of relief washes through your system, like a cool balm to desiccated skin. “I’m glad, ‘Lain,” you say softly, happy she’s found a remedy. But Elain shakes her head solemnly, shadows growing darker, weighing beneath her eyes. “It’s not…I’m not struggling with sleep,” she whispers, as if the walls are sitting in on the conversation. Eyes flit about, and your brows narrow. She’s being shifty. “Maybe we should have this conversation in your room,” she murmurs to herself, fingers massaging her temples.

“Elain…” you interject quietly, worry lacing your tone, “are you okay?” Eyes flick to you, heavy with gravity. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” You press gently. Could she have been sold another kind of herb? “You don’t seem fine…” She waves her hand dismissively, as if physically able to bat the thought away. She exhales heavily, staring again into the fire. Deep into the flames, like she can see to the other side.

“Chamomile, valerian, send me to sleep fine. It’s just not—” She cuts off, searching for the word. “They don’t send me deep enough,” she murmurs, a slight tremor in her voice. “What do you mean?” You ask, shifting toward her in your seat. Eyes snap to you with the movement, brows curving in a look of…

Fear.

You pull back, comprehending. Lean forward, on the verge of standing to cross the room to be at her side again. Like you were for those initial months. “Elain, what’s wrong?” You repeat, anxious to assuage her anxiety however you can.

“They’re back,” she whispers hoarsely. Fingers tremble in her lap, lightly gripping the lilac of her skirts to calm herself. “It’s the same thing again and again,” she manages, staring at you from across the hearth. “I see you at the edge of a forest with the wolves, traveling with the fox, ending with the…” She shakes her head. Steadying her breathing. Calming her nerves.

“There’s a flash of light—light like starfall, except it itches. Itches and burns. And then he’s down, and bleeding, and—”

“Elain, slow down,” you interrupt, standing from your seat as you hurry to her side, fingers linking with her own to soothe the trembles. Crouch before her, clasping her hands in you own gloved ones. “I don’t understand,” you say, staring up at her. “What are you talking about?”

Cocoa drains, dark and haunted.

“They’re back,” she whispers. “The visions.”

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

Az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch

cbmthy taglist: @impossibelle @naturakaashi @sakurafrost3-blog @ficienjoyedrbspot @azriels-shadowsinger @marina468 @misstea12 @going-through-shit @fussel9913 @minakay @i-am-infinite @wannabewolf @thegirlintheshadows101 @kennedy-brooke @esposadomd @horneybeach1 @jeannineee @harrystylesfan2686 @tothestarsandwhateverend @abysshaven @starlight-hope @stupidwingboy @nastynesta @luvmoo @furiousbooklover @kuraikei @kemillyfreitas @chasing-autumns-chill @marvelpotter @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @nightcourt-daydreaming @vanderlinde @fall-myriad @historygeekqueen @erin-m-harmon

#azriel x reader #azriel angst #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #Azriel acotar #a court of silver flames

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danikamariewrites · 7 months

Note

im so obsessed w the ddlg series🥰 can i please request azriel x reader ddlg where reader has a guy bestfriend who is ” a nice guy ” and he thinks himself a god for being respectful to women or not houding them for sex/ being outright a pig. And he’s like no one ever gives the nice guy a chance and tries to guilt/manipulate reader into leaving azriel to be with him instead. he says stuff like:

” i should have known you wanted someone like him”

” us nice guys do it all but get nothing back ”

” what do you even see in him, it’s ok you don’t have to lie i’ll be better to you. tou should date me instead”

and he just makes reader uncomfy when he tries to get close/kiss her so she tells azriel and he’s fuming and confronts the guy😍

Back Off

Azriel x reader

A/n: omg Az would go feral

Warnings: ddlg, creepy friend, violence, slight angst, then fluff

You were so excited to go out with your friends tonight. Azriel loved watching you bounce around getting ready with excitement. He had already laid your outfit out for you, now you were waiting for him to do your hair.

You stared up at Azriel from your vanity chair, “I’m ready daddy.” He moves to stand behind you, gathering your hair and brushing it out before braiding your hair. Your two girlfriends were brining their boyfriends so you talked Azriel into coming. Truthfully he would’ve gone if you just asked. He didn’t need to be told other males would be there, Azriel would go just to be near you.

What Azriel is not excited about is your “friend” Noah joining you all this evening. Truthfully, Azriel didn’t know why he was still part of the group. The male was truly unbearable and the way he treats females is abhorrent. But he hadn’t tried anything with you, Brenna, or Marcella so Azriel was fine to bite his tongue for now.

As you two walked into Rita’s Brenna and Marcella waved you over to the table. Their boyfriends Eric and Philip sitting beside them. And Noah and his latest victim at the very end.

Dinner wasn’t so bad. Noah was paying extra attention to you for some reason, but Azriel kept shutting him down. He could tell you didn’t like it from the way you gripped his hand under the table.

When dinner was over Azriel leaned over to whisper something in your ear, “Why don’t you and the girls go dance for a bit.” “Ok daddy,” you whisper back kissing his cheek. Out of the corner of his eye Azriel saw Noah’s jaw tick in frustration at the display of affection.

As the four of you go to dance Az makes light conversation with Eric and Philip. Noah seems to be too distracted by you and your friends dancing to pay attention. Azriel kept watching him intently. Noah aggressively pushed his chair back and stormed off toward the dance floor.

Azriel sent one of his shadows to watch over you. He had a bad feeling about Noah tonight. “I have question for the two of you,” Az drawls. Eric and Philip immediately turn their attention to the Shadowsinger. “Do you not like Noah around Brenna or Marcella? He’s weird toward y/n, I don’t like it.” He takes a swig of ale while the other two males nod.

“I hate the loser. Marcella has complained but he guilt trips her and she doesn’t want to be mean.” Philip said. “Brenna says the same thing. I can’t stand it.” Azriel leans back in his chair letting out a hum.

Out on the dance floor Marcella twirls you and you giggle. The three of you have been friends since you were teenagers. You’ve spent centuries forming a sister like bond that can’t be broken.

“I’m going to get another drink,” you yell over the music. The two of them nod and go back to dancing. As you stand at the bar you see Noah leave his day on the dance floor and walk over to you. You tense not wanting him to approach you. When Noah drinks he gets very touchy-feely with you.

Noah sidles up next to you, that too sure smile plastered on his face. “Hi baby,” you roll your eyes. “Don’t you have a date?” You bite back. He caresses your cheek with his knuckles and you jerk away. “Why won’t you give me a chance y/n? I’m a nice guy you know that.”

“Nice guys don’t brag about being nice.” You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at him. “What do you even see in Azriel. He’s a freak. You know we should be together y/n, don’t you feel it?” You give Noah a disgusted look. “How dare you say that about Azriel. You know you have some fucking—“

Noah steps closer to you, pursing his lips to kiss you. Your little shadow pulls on your wrist to get you away from Noah. You’re too shocked to even speak right now. You just want Azriel to hold and comfort you. You’d never leave him. Ever!

You had to find him. Right now. The shadow wraps tighter around your wrist as you run to Azriel. When you finally spot Azriel’s wings you see the males have moved to a high top table. You run full speed into Azriel, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle.

“Woah, princess what’s wrong?” He instantly wraps his arms and wings around you for comfort. “Noah. He called you a freak and said we shouldn’t be together, and that I should be with him, then he tried to kiss me.” You rambled as you looked up at Az with silver lined eyes. “I don’t wanna leave you daddy. I didn’t want to kiss him, I didn’t like that he did that.”

Azriel’s eyes widen with anger. “I know princess, I know. I’m going to take care of it. Where is Noah?” At the sound of yelling in the middle of the dance floor Azriel lowers his wings. A circle had formed around Brenna and Marcella kicking Noah while he was on the ground. “I got that, just stay with her.” He said to Eric and Philip. Azriel kissed you on the forehead and rushed off to help your friends.

He pulled Marcella and Brenna back. They turned on him, furious that a male was touching them. They relaxed when they saw Azriel. “You two have done a fantastic job, but I’ll take it from here. Take y/n home and I’ll be right there.” They nodded and left with you.

Azriel gripped Noah by the back of his neck, pulling him off the floor. “Let’s have a little chat.” Outside, Azriel shoved Noah against the alley wall. “You are to never go near her or the others again. Do you understand me?” Noah nods vigorously. His ability to speak crippled by his fear of Azriel.

Azriel took a step back staring the shorter male down. Before he could notice, Azriel pulled his fist back slamming it into Noah’s gut. He keeled over coughing and gasping for air. Next was a right hook to his face. The cracking of his jaw echoing off the damp brick walls. “If I ever see you again I will kill you.” Azriel turned his back on the male and calmly walked away.

Thirty minutes later Azriel was home relieving Brenna and Marcella. You hugged them goodbye, thanking them for standing up for you. When the door shut Azriel scooped you into his arms and held you close to his chest.

You cling to Azriel as he took you upstairs to your bedroom. He gently places you on the bed. Pulling back he looks down at you, caressing your cheek with his scarred hand. This felt right. He felt like home. You looked up at him with bright doe eyes. “Are you ok princess?” “Yeah,” you mumble out with a small smile. “Did you…” “He won’t be bothering you anymore.”

You pulled Azriel on to the bed, curling up in his lap. “I love you daddy.” “I love you more princess.” Azriel kisses the crown of your head and lays you down. “Let’s get ready for bed, yeah.” You nod against the soft pillow as he ran his fingers through your hair.

“Will you read to me?” “Of course princess.”

“And cuddles?” “I’ll cuddle you all night.”

You felt like a weight had rolled off your shoulders. Azriel had taken care of the problem and now he was going to take care of you. He is truly perfect.

As you watched him move around the room getting your sleep clothes you couldn’t help but thank the Mother for this beautiful male. Your eyes never left Azriel. Even as he undressed you and wiped your makeup off. You were entranced by him.

Crawling into bed next to you, Azriel picked up your book from the bedside table. You made yourself at home in his lap. “Now, where we’re we?” He flipped through the pages, finding the last chapter you read. “Right here daddy.”

His sweet, soft voice soothed you. After only a few pages your eyes started to droop. Azriel noticed and smirked. He reread the last page and watched as your eyes fully closed. Putting the book back, Azriel pulled the covers over the two of you. “Goodnight princess. Daddy loves you very much,” he whispers, kissing your cheek.

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader fic #acotar reader imagine #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel angst #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel fluff #azriel #acotar azriel

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nikethestatue · 3 months

Note

Greetings,

I’m a baby elriel. I’ve like never really “shipped” any characters before in my life — and after the last few weeks of looking at the historical/ongoing ship war clusterfuck that is the ACOTAR fandom I don’t think I’m ever going to set sail again anywhere. You and all the other elriels who have been in the trenches from the get go have my respect 🫡 Anyways, your blog is super swaggy and you’re like the chillest elriel I’ve seen, so it is to your inbox that I shall share my testimony, my come to Mother moment if you will.

I didn’t really start giving any serious thought to the two them being a legit thing until I was already done with ACOSF. And it’s wild because it was the “‘I don’t see you spouting poetry, brother.’ ‘I don’t need to resort to it.’” bit in ACOWAR between Cassian and Azriel that triggered me to reevaluate.

When I first read that part I was like damn okay I see you Rizzriel, and I just kept on thinking about it and coming back to it cause it was so funny and entertaining but one day I was like yo hold up, don’t need to resort to it?? Okay, Mr. “Born Hearing the Song of the Wind.” Okay, Mr. waxing poetic about “The Naphelle Philosophy.” Like don’t get me wrong, it is definitely, first and foremost, a subtle flex for his third unspoken title; he is Azriel — shadowsinger, spymaster, and rizz master of the Night Court. However, I am a firm believer that he doesn’t need to resort to poetic words as some sort of attempt at flattery or being charming because the right situation/person naturally draws out that part of him.

✨Walk with me✨

When Elain and Azriel first meet in ACOMAF, even though there’s not a whole lot of interaction between them, it’s definitely a case of two people having a connection simply off vibes alone (yay for those of us who don’t have loud personalities). He puts her at ease with a smile and by acknowledging her fears and apprehension about their presence, about how much of a mindfuck it was for her to be dining in her home with those she was raised to believe were horrific creatures that would kill her if given the chance.

So like because of this, I think Elain is driven by a deeper curiosity that came from her unexpected comfort when she asks “Can you truly fly?” cause ngl asking the dude with massive wings if he can fly is certainly a choice 🧍🏽‍♀️ Like, there’s more to it than that, more than just attempting to transition from a tense situation into conversational small talk which could’ve been done just as easily with the likes of “Tell me about yourself” or a more confrontational “So what are you?” — which is essentially what Nesta asked immediately after 💀

Elain doesn’t know anything about these guys, but she sees Feyre trusts them, and Azriel’s small expressions of gentleness towards her amidst the escalating interactions made her willing to attempt connecting with him further. So I think her asking a ridiculously simple question with an obvious answer was her way of softly inviting him to share something about himself — not necessarily through what he responds with but rather how he responds — because something, if anything, unique to his answer beyond a simple yes or no would offer her a glimpse at him. And what does he do? Stone-faced, cold ass — doesn’t open his mouth except to give the shortest answers possible or to make some sharp sassy retort — Azriel spouts poetry for her about his and Cassian’s heritage.

So after my revelation slapped me in the face and then bonked me over the head for good measure, I went back and sought out all their interactions and was like dang bro became horrendously down bad for her in the most quietly romantic way possible and she’s feelin something too I can’t believe I didn’t pay attention to this before. I love love love that they just seem to be at ease in each other’s presence, that the vibes between them are so immaculate they don’t even need to bother with many words. Existing in comfortable silence with someone is like my favorite way to spend time in relationships whether it’s familial, platonic, or romantic so it makes me feel all fuzzy that we see them like that quite often.

So now I’m here and am looking forward to eventually reading about them and discovering more about Elain’s gifts because the whole creation story with the Mother + the Cauldron always gave me Gaia-type vibes and with Elain being invested in gardening and then being made a Seer by the cauldron because it thought she was so lovely I’m like Elain Archeron — the absolute goddess that you are, light and life flowing through your Made veins — we haven’t even seen all you can do yet and you’ve got this angelic fae male of death and darkness ready to worship you on his knees and I’ma be right there with him yes ma’am 🛐

WOW baby Elriel. You smote me with this beautiful post.

(first of all, you should write fanfiction. You reminded me of the greatest Elriel (or otherwise) writer that ever graced this hot mess of a fandom with their presence)

But I can't agree more. I think SJM actually pays attention to them, as a couple. Not something she does with many others. That relationship just flows so beautifully in the background, calm and poetic, even with the language she uses around them. There is so much imagery of death and life and decay and rebirth and beauty and flowers and blades and warmth and baking and loneliness and despair and searching for love and for home.

I don't know what she'll do with them, but it could be her Magnum Opus if she is careful, thoughtful and steady in crafting their story. What she already put down deserves special treatment when the story actually comes to pass.

Also, welcome to the fandom.

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acourtofthought · 1 year

Note

On another note and then I’ll be off, I saw you arguing about why SJM may have chosen not to go with the Azriel/Nesta/Cassian threesome, and I loved your reasoning. May I add something, though?

It’s, as you said, pretty obvious that the reason can’t have anything to do with E/riel, because then SJM wouldn’t have thought about the threesome in the first place. (I mean, sleeping with the sister of the girl you’re supposedly already in love with, not caring about her feelings? Damn).

It could, though, have much to do with Gwynriel. You said that Gwyn’s arrival probably changed things, and I agree. Mainly because SJM revealed she had to force herself not to write the threesome, and it makes sense considering that technically Nesta had no reason not to go for it.

So, it’s possible that SJM found the choice hard because there were the premises for it, but involving Azriel in any way with Nesta would’ve made things messy between her and Gwyn in the future.

That’s not the only possible explanation, however. When thinking about it, I realized that SJM’s choice could have also been about Elucien, or, at least, about both Gwynriel and Elucien.

I know, I know, I’m an Elucien stan, so I probably sound partial, but hear me out.

As things are right now, endgame or no endgame, there’s no way that Azriel sleeping with Nesta and Cassian wouldn’t have hurt Elain, considering her crush and that she’s likely using Azriel as a way to escape reality.

There’s also no way Elain wouldn’t have found out, considering the IC would talk, joke about it, and she frequents them enough. Not to mention, I believe Nesta wouldn’t do it if she thought Elain had feelings, and she’d talk about it because she wouldn’t know.

(And maybe that’s naive considering his recent behaviour, but I hope Azriel would tell her beforehand. Not because he owes it to her—he doesn’t—, but because he respects her).

Anyway, the point is: in any plausible scenario that I can think of, Elain would’ve found out. And if Elain had found out, wouldn’t that have been major for her? Wouldn’t that have forced her to think about Azriel, Lucien, and what’s going on with them?

Couldn’t it be that seeing Elain’s reaction to the threesome would have hinted too much? We know, after all, how SJM’s publishers feel about things (particularly endgames) being “spoiled.”

I think everything you said is valid because something that was meant to be fun for Nesta would have a massive trickle down effect for all the others and could never be as simple as "a good time".

I do still think if SJM has been building E/riel as endgame since ACOWAR (or even ACOMAF as some say), the threesome with Nesta, Az and Cassian would have never come into her mind, ever. SJM wouldn't have even entertained the thought. Just like SJM would have never had Elain hook up with Cassian for a rebound if she knew since ACOMAF that he and Nesta were meant to be together. Once you know for sure who an endgame couple is, I really don't think you give the guy a little fling with their sister (especially when both sisters are going to be a FMC. Usually the trop with the girl ending up with her sister's ex only works when the first sister mistreated the guy). So if Elain was never meant to end up with Azriel than it seems like Nesta could have had a threesome with him. Except for the other two problems with that. Gwyn for sure because even though she and Az don't owe anything to one another at this point, it would be weird if your friend found out you slept with her Mate. And......Elain again. But this time because of the point you were making. Even if Elain was never meant to end up with Az, SJM has created a storyline where she and Az are experiencing a sort of rebound. Even though it's very clear to us that Az is not feeling love towards Elain since he doesn't think of a future for them, obsession is still a consuming emotion. Az is still not over Mor but he transferred those feelings to Elain because Mor is no longer around as often. Since he did become fixated on the only other available female (one who was given a bond while he was not), it wouldn't make sense for Az to be open to sleeping with Elain's sister while he's fixated on Elain .And even though we know Elain isn't really ready to deal with the things she needs to deal with, she's let herself believe she could start something with Az (as she has no bond with him and he looks human without his shadows - something she probably clings on to as she's still not completely over the loss of her humanity). Az's actions have led Elain to believe that he's interested in her too (which is why she was willing to kiss him in the first place) and if she found out he'd slept with her sister while shooting her "obsessed with you looks", it would make him seem like a player. Which would be harder for Elain and the readers to forgive. I'm not sure whether it would force her hand on making a decision on Lucien though since she's gotten really good at refusing to deal with that 😂. But anyway you look at it, a threesome that included Nesta and Az would have caused too many issues.

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unhealthyfanobsession · 3 years

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Can I ask for drunk Nesta flirting with Cassian in front of the ic and him getting all flustered but being secretly pleased about it???

Hell yeah you can! I love this idea! It wasn’t specified so I’m going modern here just because I’m not really sure where this could’ve happened in the canon timeline without a bunch of other factors impeding. Also I’m throwing in a dash of my fav jealous Cassian 😏

It wasn’t that Cassian didn’t want to be there. Well, no, actually that was exactly what it was. Cassian didn’t want to be there. He was exhausted and he hadn’t gotten to the gym that morning and he had a massive deadline that Rhys kept insisting they could push back but Cassian didn’t want to. He just wanted to go home and finish his report and maybe have a glass of whiskey to close off a truly awful week.

But Feyre’s art exhibit opened earlier that week and he hadn’t even gotten to see it yet and so it wasn’t like he could blow off her big party when he already felt like the world’s worst friend.

And he was completely lying to himself and everyone else. He didn’t want to be there because he didn’t want to watch Eris Vanserra’s slimy ass mill about the elegantly decorated, high ceilinged, natural light dripping, beautiful space, with his eyes glued to Nesta’s ass as if it was the art they were meant to be appreciating.

Did Cassian also appreciate every inch of her body like it had been sculpted by Michelangelo? Yeah but that was besides the point. And he had the respect to do it subtly.

“Remind me why he’s invited,” Cassian grumbled into his overpriced merlot. Because apparently only wine was classy enough for these fancy, classy, art events.

“He’s Lucien’s brother.” Azriel also didn’t look impressed by Eris’ uninvited hand on the small of Nesta’s back. Or the way he kept refilling her glass before she asked or was even done. “And he’s richer than Midas and spends a lot of that money on art.”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “We have as much money as he does.”

“Yes but you know Feyre’s rule. No family purchases. She doesn’t want to be a success just because Rhys could buy and sell this entire gallery.” Azriel was stoic as usual. Betraying no opinion on the matter.

It was several hours of carefully constructed comments where Cassian pretended he knew anything about art and pretended his neck wasn’t getting increasingly hot under his collar as Eris kept glued to Nesta’s side.

Cassian had no right to be jealous. He knew that. He and Nesta weren’t anything. Casual flirting. Witty banter. Eternal, pining, unrequited love on his end that she didn’t even seem to notice or care about. So fine. Maybe Eris was her type. It wasn’t his place to interfere.

Except that she really needed a glass of water right now and-

Cassian’s hand darted out on instinct as Nesta walked past him, wobbling a little on her completely impractical shoes.

“Careful sweetheart.”

He braced for the hissed don’t call me that, but When he looked up Nesta was blinking slowly through a hazy wall of the wrong wine.

The wrong wine because Eris had been giving her a Nappa Cab Sauv all night when she preferred old world Syrah. Which was probably why she kept drinking it so quickly, looking for her opportunity to get what she really wanted.

“Cass,” she smiled. It was a little lopsided and definitely off kilter, but even through her wine brain he could see that she was playing at something. Nesta had never called him Cass in his life. “It’s so good to see you!” Her voice went up a full octave and she pressed her entire body against his as she hugged him.

The display turned a few heads in their direction. It was mostly just family at this point, and Eris who couldn’t learn how to take a fucking hint. Technically, he supposed, Eris was family. Nesta’s fucking brother in law. Was that how it worked? Was the brother of the person your sister married also your brother in law? Brother in law once removed?

Not important, moron. Drunk Nesta. Body. Wrapped in a tight sheath dress and clinging to him. Cassian closed his hands around her back and got lost for a minute.

Holding her against him like she was made to fit in his arms. Breathing in her scent like he could capture it in a bottle and spray it on his pillow every night before he went to bed.

Someone cleared their throat. Feminine. High pitched. Mor.

Nesta had already let go and was smirking at him a little. He dropped his hands immediately. “Um, yeah, always a pleasure.”

“Interesting choice of words,” Nesta’s grin was feline. She was definitely up to something. And normally he would make a stupid remark, probably something about how much more pleasurable the evening would be back at his apartment, except that she was drunk and his entire family was staring and Eris was still standing there.

“Can I get you a glass of water?” It seemed like the right thing to say. To offer. Feyre smiled a little, a silent thank you. Azriel was covering a laugh, Mor was watching them both with narrowed eyes like a hawk, and Rhys honestly couldn’t have cared less. Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Or maybe throw you into a pool,” Cassian joked stupidly.

“You should probably buy me dinner before offering to get me wet.” Someone dropped a glass. Cassian honestly thought it might have been him and he wouldn’t have noticed. Not in that moment. Not with Nesta looking at him through hooded eyes and talking about…

He could do this. His pants were not getting tight. Not at all. Because he wasn’t a damn teenager.

“I- um- do you-”

Nesta burst out laughing. It was a sound he’d never heard from her. She was usually all sultry under her breath snorts or ironic guffaws. Full, deep, angels singing, laughter was not usual for Nesta.

As evidenced by the fact the no one was even pretending not to be watching them anymore.

“I’ve got her.” Eris pushed himself back to Nesta’s side.

“Does he?” Nesta looked straight at Cassian, one eyebrow raised. “Because I’m willing to bet he wouldn’t have made it past glass two if your family wasn’t here.”

Azriel coughed. Amren cackled.

“You… do you want him to have you?” It came out wrong. The words. He meant did she want Eris to take her to get some water. Like he offered. He didn’t mean, he couldn’t, he wouldn’t…

“I want you to have me.” She was drunk. She was so drunk and it shouldn’t have been hot but fuck him it was. It wasn’t some sloppy college night out messed up drunk. It was a woman whose inhibitions had been soaked in wine just enough that every word out of her mouth was low and hot and honest.

“Find somewhere else to be, Vanserra.”

“Hey man what the fuck? We were talking-“

Cassian scoffed, snapping out of whatever flustered mess Nesta had put him in. “Anyone who gave her that much Cab Sauv doesn’t deserve to talk to her. Get lost.”

“I saw you eyeing the bottle,” Nesta laughed a little, swaying on her toes. Cassian moved his hands from a support on her bicep to a full arm around the waist support. Even if she did try to fall he could lift her with one arm easy. “Thought you might say something after…”

After the night they spent in her apartment with a bottle of her favourite Syrah only a week ago. It hadn’t been on purpose. Feyre and Elain and Azriel and Lucien were all supposed to be there. And they all conveniently cancelled only after he’d already showed up.

Which, judging by the barely contained grins on their faces, was even less of a coincidence than he thought. Busybodies.

“I’d offer you a glass of Syrah now, but I think what you need is a coffee.”

“Oh but then I’ll never sleep. And I do think I’m ready for bed.”

Sensing that he’d lost, Eris swore under his breath and stomped off.

“Let me take you home, Nes.” Cassian whispered into her hair.

“Hmm, your place or mine.”

“Yours,” he kissed her temple, pulling her legs out from under her and not even paying his family a backwards glance. “For a nightcap of 2 big glasses of water and a bottle of aspirin that I’m going to leave on your nightstand for the morning.”

“You don’t want to be there in the morning?”

Cassian groaned. “You said it yourself, Sweetheart. Dinner first.”

“You’re never going to let me live this down.” Nesta sighed, head lulling onto his shoulder.

“Actually go for dinner with me next week and I promise to never bring this night up again. And bribe our friends to do the same.”

“Deal,” Nesta said immediately.

An hour later after Cassian had supervised Nesta drinking her water he was about to leave her apartment when she yawned.

“Hey Cass,” she mumbled, half asleep.

“Yes sweetheart?”

“You made a bad bargain. I would’ve gone out with you either way.”

Cassian chuckled, a low rumble. “I’m satisfied with the bargain I made.”

“Cheesy as hell.”

“You love it.”

Nesta laughed, “I am prepared to tolerate it at best.”

“Good enough for me.”

#nessian #nessian fanfiction #drabble requests #nesta archeron #acosf #cassian #nesta and cassian #a court of thorns and roses #sarah j maas #a court of silver flames #a court of mist and fury #acotar

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houseofhurricane · 2 years

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Rules for Spies: Chapter Nineteen

Summary: While Azriel and Gwyn work to free Koschei’s captives, attraction turns into something more.

Chapter Word Count: 2,996

Warnings: This chapter contains mentions of torture, and this fic includes mature consensual sexual situations, references to past assault, and torture.

Art & Banner: cosmikla

All chapters are available on Archive of Our Own. All previous chapters linked here.

Gwyn has not known Lucien Vanserra for very long, but she’s starting to think that he only really smiles when Elain is present.

“I can open the box,” he is saying to their group, Gwyn and Azriel and Rhys and Feyre and Elain, and such a statement should be a victorious one, but instead the emissary sounds concerned, a little beleaguered, his lips pressed into a thin line despite the presence of his mate. “But I still think it’s a bad idea.”

“Is there another way to find out what’s inside?” Azriel asks.

“I thought Elain and Gwyn had found the answer.” Though Lucien stares at the box as though he is curious himself. “There’s a trip-wire in the magic. Koschei will know when we open it.”

“Does he know if the box is moved?” Gwyn is envisioning their plan, each woman holding tight to the box that contains her soul, her essence, her death -- that mysterious something that binds these women to Koschei -- wondering whether Koschei will find them too quickly.

“Didn’t he send Vassa after you?” Lucien’s metal eye whirrs in her direction.

“No one has shown up here, have they? You’ve been moving the box around for weeks.” Azriel’s voice is tense, and Gwyn puts her hand on his shoulder, her fingers grazing the gleaming cobalt Siphon.

“I tried my magic on the box in the library,” she says. “Could that have alerted Koschei?”

“It’s possible,” Lucien says. “It’s also possible that the wards around this place have blunted his ability to detect its motion. And forgive me for casting aspersions on your respective abilities, but I believe these magics are too complex to be placed in the course of your retrieval.”

“Then he might not know you’ve opened the box,” Feyre points out, sounding a little smug. Gwyn doesn’t miss the appreciative smirk that Rhys aims at her before he turns back to Lucien.

“If you insist on making yourself targets,” Lucien begins, but Rhys cuts him off.

“We’re aware of the threat. If my spymaster believes this knowledge is vital, then we’re willing to take the risk.”

Azriel’s eyes are on her, and Gwyn says, “We need to know as much as possible. I’m not sure why the legends are unclear on this word, but it might be vital.”

Lucien only nods and with a sigh, begins a complicated series of movements with his hands, his power a new presence in the room. Within seconds, Gwyn realizes that it will be too complicated to break the binding spell in the field, that they will have to remove the boxes and the women, still bound to Koschei.

“We’ll need to blindfold them,” she murmurs to Azriel, and he squeezes her hand, intent on the box.

She follows his gaze, but very little seems to be happening, other than the increasing resonance of Lucien’s power, and then a flickering reddish glow like firelight around the box.

Then, finally, there is a click, and she sees the lines for a lid materialize in the onyx.

The box is still shut, and still Gwyn feels as if Merrill is in the room, the way she did when the priestess loomed over her shoulder, when Gwyn had no idea if her presence was benign or threatening.

“Don’t open the box,” she says, and her voice echoes in the room. Lucien whirls toward her.

“What happened, Gwyn?” Azriel says, his voice too calm.

“Merrill is inside. Her essence, her soul, it feels like her. We need to open the box with Merrill present. It might bring her back.”

“I’ll take you to her,” Azriel says, already rising from the couch. Rhys raises a hand to stop him.

“Any risks, Lucien?”

“We don’t understand Koschei’s magic well enough. The magical signature--”

Gwyn only thinks of the blank look in the priestess’s eye when she cuts him off. “Merrill is wasting away without a mind. Without a soul. Koschei will know that the binding spell has been removed. I don’t think we have time to wait.”

She’s surprised when Elain nods, when Rhys does not object. It feels like the beginning of her life here, the first moment when she disagreed with a court member and was taken seriously, and when she takes a quick glance at Azriel, he’s smiling at her, and Gwyn is happy. She’s found her place, her work. Her new life.

Then she picks up the box.

At first she thinks that Azriel winnowed her without her noticing, but then she realizes that around her there are no shadows, nor the dull roar of winnowing with Rhys or Mor.

Instead, Gwyn feels suspended, surrounded by absence. The only things in the world are herself and the box in her hands.

Then she lands in an unfamiliar landscape, her boots crunching in the snow. Around her is a forest, the trees unlike those of the Night Court. They’re older, gnarled, the gray bark worn into ancient grooves. The only break in the trees is a lake, so deep and dark that it hasn’t frozen despite the bitter chill, the wind that cuts below her flannel-lined leathers, Azriel’s gift.

“I’ve been waiting for you, little spy,” a voice says. She’s heard it before, in the library, in the torture chamber of the Hewn City.

Koschei’s voice.

A cluster of shadows moves over the snow, and for a moment, Gwyn thinks that Azriel has followed her here. Then the shadows reassemble themselves into a form like a man, gray and shifting with the slightest breeze.

“Thank you for bringing my Merrill back.” There is no mouth amidst the shadows, but they speak with his voice, as one, so unlike Azriel’s shadows with their whispers and their songs. And when they wrap around her wrists, their touch is not the soft caress she’s gotten used to. They’re harsh against her skin, binding her wrists together like living metal.

“Why now, Koschei?” Because she’d touched that box in the library, and right now Gwyn’s curiosity is the only thing that keeps her from shattering.

“When the High Lord of Autumn finds I have a siren at my command, he will do anything I ask. You will be the price for my freedom, and I think he’ll find unbinding me to be a bargain.”

Gwyn tries to run but her feet are bound to the earth, the cold pressing through her boots. She tries to scream but the sound comes muted from her lungs.

He was inside my mind, Vassa had said, and likely that is why she cannot make a sound now. But she does not feel Koschei’s presence inside her thoughts. Still, she does not reach for her magic. Especially if she’s right and he will take it from her, use it to make a command.

She will find a time to strike, she vows, and that promise alone sparks warmth inside of her. She will not be Koschei’s captive for any longer than required. The mission will continue.

But the shadows remove the box from her hands, and then they pull her towards the woods.

“I’ll see you soon, little spy,” the death-god croons.

Out of the corner of her eye, Gwyn sees another shadow moving across the snow. Its movement is familiar. She sweeps her eyes away before Koschei can detect it.

Before he can winnow, or even draw Truth-Teller, Rhys’ magic binds Azriel to his chair, his power as deep as a midwinter night.

“Where is Gwyn?” Azriel growls at Lucien, at Rhys, at the air itself.

“You know where she is, brother.” Rhys’ voice is too calm. “ If you were to go to Koschei’s lake right now, the death-god would trap you alongside her. You need to make a plan.”

“I’ll destroy him.”

Everyone in the room stills at the sound in his voice, but Azriel thinks only of Gwyn, her screams in Sangravah, how pale and still she’d been in his arms, under his cloak. Of Koschei, pushing his way into her mind.

He spears his magic through the world, sending a shadow to that lake, and then he bares his teeth at Rhys.

“Gwyn is ready,” Rhys says, unflinching. “She knew there was danger. She didn’t flinch. None of your spies would.”

“She’s my mate.”

“And your spy, brother.”

The words bring him back to the past, his wings in agony, blood on the carpet in the townhouse, Feyre taken to the Spring Court by Tamlin. Feyre, who now rises to stand before him, her spine steel as she peers down at him, every inch his High Lady.

“You cannot go to Koschei until we know what you would be facing. The magic required. You know this, Azriel. You know she can endure him until then. Because you prepared her for this.”

The words wash over him, and Azriel burns at the truth in them. That there is nothing, right now, that he can do for Gwyn.

“I’ll need to patrol,” he says, not fully willing to submit to this feeling of uselessness.

“Then you’ll go with Cassian,” she counters, crossing her arms over her chest, and the only thing he hears is Gwyn’s voice, mocking Cassian for his lack of stealth. “I presume there’s research the two of you were doing?”

There’s a small roar in the room and Rhys steps into the room with Cassian and Mor and Nesta and Emerie.

“How are we getting her back?” Nesta says, and Azriel has never loved the rage in her voice more than he does now.

“We need to patrol,” he responds, something in him loosening, maybe hope, “and we need to understand Koschei’s magic. Gwyn and I were trying to figure out how he might respond to her power, but--”

“She may be able to experiment,” Rhys muses.

“She doesn’t put herself in any more danger.” Azriel’s voice slices like a knife.

“She’s already in danger, Az.” Nesta walks toward him, squatting down to meet his eyes. “You know Gwyn. She’ll feel better if she’s not sitting around, waiting.”

He covers his face with his hands, unable to think. If this were another one of his spies, talented and trained and eager to prove herself, he might be nervous for a moment. But it is Gwyn, his mate, and he thinks of her in every unguarded moment, vulnerable and kind, the way she looks with tears in her eyes, and the way her grin breaks free when she teases him. He can hardly bear to think of where she might be.

And still, if he had been the one to be held captive, he knows in his marrow that she would not crumble. She wouldn’t sleep until she finished her research, until her next steps were planned, and then she would unleash her power upon Koschei without hesitation. No matter the cost.

He thinks of her running through the darkness, silent and sure. Of her radiance when she’d commanded Vassa.

Azriel takes one deep, shuddering breath and then he raises his head and looks at his family.

“You’re right,” he says to Nesta, to Feyre, to Rhys, to all of them, and then they begin to plan.

Except for the shadows, Gwyn is alone in the forest. Thinking of Vassa, she does not rely on her eyes or her ears, but waits for the sensation of breath on her neck, walking as much as the shadows at her wrists and ankles will allow in the hopes of bumping into another captive.

Finally, after too long, when the night is thick and bitter cold around her and she’s afraid that sleep will kill her, Gwyn remembers her powers. She closes her eyes and reaches out, and suddenly the forest is alive with resonance, with the beginnings of melodies. She counts thirty women, human and faerie and High Fae, all broken and lonely and cold.

She also knows the precise location of Azriel’s shadow.

Though Gwyn wants to draw up her magic, command some peace and hope into each mind around her, this would likely only rouse Koschei’s attention. So instead, she sinks into the snow, wrapping her arms around her knees, and begins to sing the melody Azriel sang to her only days ago, when they were warm and happy inside her apartment, the fire crackling and dinner filling their bellies.

She does not try to make herself sound strong or happy. Instead, she lets her fear into her voice, the clattering of her teeth. Let Koschei, if he listens, believe she is all but defeated, ready to be bound.

She sings until the shadow disappears, until the only other beings in the forest are the other lonely women who cannot know how much she wants to rescue them.

“Nesta and I will visit the Autumn Court,” Feyre says, rising from the table, piled with Gwyn’s notebooks and Azriel’s files and all the scrolls and volumes they’d amassed in the reading room of the library, brought over by Rhys and Mor. They’ve been poring over them for the last three hours, while the winter sky has gone dark outside the window. Azriel can’t stop thinking about Gwyn, trapped in the forest next to Koschei’s lake, even as he tries to concentrate.

“You’ll need an invitation,” Cassian says, looking dubious.

“Eris can’t be swayed? I’ll take Nyx and we’ll say it is a meeting between heirs.”

“Beron will be offended if Rhys doesn’t attend,” Mor points out, not looking up from her dictionary. “And you won’t be able to give them enough time to prepare.”

“I can move my spies to Autumn,” Azriel offers.

“Beron has kept them out successfully since he returned from Under the Mountain,” Rhys says. “But we can offer him an alliance. Feyre and I can go.”

“Surely we’re not considering it?” Feyre only looks bemused at the possibility, though proportionally speaking, Feyre has seen more chaos and bloodshed over the short span of her life than any of them.

“Only if he’s prepared to make significant changes to his court. Including appointing a new High Lord.” Rhys does not mention Eris’s name, though they all know who he means. Mor does not look up from her book, and there’s a deep rustle as Emerie’s wing curls around her shoulder, all while she points to something in Gwyn’s notebook, nudging Nesta.

“What is it?” he asks.

“She was trying to work out whether Koschei had a physical form at all,” Emerie says, running her finger down the page. “After the account of Marija, the binding to the lake, she says that the accounts of him get confused. And Vassa had no idea what he looked like.”

“I don’t know how he expects my father to give him a physical form,” Lucien points out. “Unless Beron is only the first step.”

“He is,” Elain says, and Azriel is staring at her.

“What do you know?” He speaks too sharply. Across the table, Lucien growls, leaning in front of her, but Elain rests her hand on his shoulder, pushes him away until Azriel is in view.

“His desire,” she says, her gaze dreamy but her voice sure. “His desire is his weapon, his focus. He will rule over this world entire, crush it under his heel, before he leaves it.”

“I won’t let him.”

“You and Gwyn can free the captives. Destroying him falls to another.”

“Do your visions always come true?”

“All possible futures look alike to me. But there are certain paths that lead only to destruction. This is one.”

“How do we free the captives, then?”

“I only see that she will call when she is ready. You will not have much time when that happens.”

“I’ll station a shadow around her at all times,” he says, and Elain nods, the clarity already returning to her eyes.

Moments later, as if called, the shadow he sent after Gwyn appears in the room, whispering its report. She is bound and alone in the woods, but when the shadow sings the melody she offered it, Azriel feels himself pulled back from despair.

“She’s alive and singing,” he translates, and Nesta and Emerie sigh with relief, eyeing the bracelets on their wrists, the gleaming silver charms.

Not knowing what Koschei might detect, he sends a different shadow back to the lake, with instructions to survey the landscape, study the death-god’s magic, to try and ascertain any possible information about the other captives. Another he sends to monitor Gwyn, to be ready to amplify and articulate her powers.

“We’ll patrol tomorrow, Az,” Cassian offers, covering a yawn with his fist as he turns back to one of the older scrolls. He’d surprised them all by reading it fluently, only to reveal that some of his favorite books on battle strategy had only been available in the ancient dialects, that he’d completed rough translations on his own. Nesta had called him her own scholar for an hour after that.

“I’ll go with you,” Nesta says, a spark of silver in her eyes.

“If Koschei tries to claim you--” Azriel says.

“I swear that I will fucking destroy that sorcerer if he comes for me, death-god or no. No matter what the prophecy says.” She shoots a glare at Elain, daring her sister to contradiction, but Elain only shrugs.

Tomorrow will only be a patrol, but Azriel doesn’t contradict her. Let Nesta destroy Koschei, so long as Gwyn is free.

Through the night, as the others fall away, claimed by exhaustion, Azriel keeps reading, his scarred fingers passing over Gwyn’s notes. Little by little, his mind begins to clear from fear and anger. His plan begins to form.

He starts to believe he will be able to rescue Gwyn. Or, more accurately, to put her in a position to rescue herself.

This kind of hope is dangerous, a prelude to overconfidence. Still, as Azriel builds out his contingencies, pulls together Gwyn’s notes and his own, the observations his family has added, he almost feels her beside him, close enough to kiss.

Notes: I know this doesn't make it better, necessarily, but I have to say that I hated making anything bad happen to either Gwyn or Azriel in this fic. I've previously written characters where I haven't minded their suffering, but these two really burrowed their way into my heart, and any time they were miserable, I felt it.

All of this to say, I'm sorry, we'll get through it together, and I'll be back on Sunday with another chapter -- it will be the last week of Rules for Spies updates! We've almost made it 🧡

For more theories, thoughts, and occasional sneak peeks, follow me on Instagram at house.of.hurricane or TikTok at houseofhurricane.

Taglist: @almosttenaciousmoon @azrielbedara @azrielsdarling13 @books0lover @brown-and-weird @camreadsum @cozycomfyliving08 @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @drinkbleach0 @gellybeangoogle @girlbossenergy @glemiessa @gwynrielsupremacy @hlizr50 @imsointobooks @katekatpattywack @lightwood-bane13 @livelyblu @lola-lightwood @meher-sumedha @moonbeammadness @mystical-blaise @nansr @nervousninjasuit @onemorenightdreamer @rubyriveraqueen @ruthieluvsbooks @sanniegirl1214 @saramoonbeam @secretlovelybeauty @shisingh @soffiiione @thenerdywriter @the-stars-eternal @trashforazriel @valkyriesbooks @vassien-supremacy6 @vikingmagic33 @whoever-you-choose-to-love @witching-by-the-willow @zanywolffriendhairdo

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elainsshadows · 3 years

Text

I want to talk about Elain today and her role in future books. I will also be talking about other ships at the end of this including: Lucien x Vassa, Lucien x Elain, and Azriel x Gwyn. These are merely my opinions and thoughts, this is not me trying to bash anyone else's opinions. I am open to having discussions as long as you are kind and respectful.

This is going to be long as a warning. Let's begin.

Quiet Strength

My friend recently start reading ACOTAR and she came to me one day and said that she had found a quote that she really liked. That quote was:

"She had looked at that cottage with hope; I had looked at it with nothing but hatred. And I knew which one of us had been stronger" ~ ACOTAR, pg. 259

I know that a lot of antis like to bring up the fact that Elain didn't do anything but plant flowers and such while Feyre was out risking her life to put food on the table. Why hadn't Elain planted food instead? As someone who tried to garden vegetables with her dad one year I can tell you it's not as easy as flowers.

Maybe Elain was trying to bring some color into their drab little existence like Feyre had done with the paints. Maybe she wanted one thing to make her happy.

When Feyre comes to see them in ACOMAF, to ask for their help, it was Elain who said that they should help.

"If... if we do not help Feyre, there won't be a wedding." ~ ACOMAF pg. 247

"Feyre gave and gave - for years. Let us help her. Help... others." ~ ACOMAF pg. 248

Elain was risking a lot by saying they should now help their Fae sister. She was going to be married to someone who's family hated the Fae. If they found out what Elain and Nesta were doing it would probably be the end of her engagement to Graysen. They would become Fae sympathizers and like the Children of the Blessed we see mentioned throughout the books.

Would a coward risk all of this? Not to me they wouldn't.

When Rhys, Az, and Cassian arrive once Elain had cleared out the servants. Elain, while scared, still tries to be a good host to the four of them. I want to come back to this scene when I discuss Elriel because this was the moment that I first started thinking that they would make a good pair.

But while Nesta and Feyre are more bold with their actions like wielding swords, bow and arrows, knives, etc., Elain doesn't necessarily back down from a challenge. When given Truth-Teller she simply states that she doesn't know how to use it. She does not shove it back at Azriel and refuse it, she simply informs him she doesn't know how to use it.

Also when they had been captured by Hybern and all that mess was going down. Tamlin had been gunning for Feyre and it was Elain who did this:

"But Elain's cry - a warning. A warning to- To my right, now exposed, Tamlin ran for me. To grab me at last." ACOMAF pg. 602

Elain, despite being scared in this highly stressful situation, saw her sister in danger and tried her hardest to warn her. If it had not been for Elain, Tamlin might have been able to grab Feyre at that moment in all the confusion and chaos. Despite being in her nightgown and terrified she still tried to protect her younger sister.

Once again when people are in danger once the Wall had been taken down it was Elain who spoke up. She knew that Graysen's family's estate could help protect those closest to the Wall and from any Fae that may come to do them harm.

"Glamour me," Elain said - to Rhys. "Make me look human. Just long enough to convince him to open his gates to those seeking sanctuary." ~ ACOWAR pg. 471

"It's already ended badly. Now it's just a matter of deciding how we meet the consequences." ~ ACOWAR pg. 471

She's Fae now. If Graysen or any of his family or those working for them knew this (which we see that they did) then they might kill her on sight. She risked her life to make sure defenseless humans remained as safe as they could with the oncoming war.

When Azriel and Feyre go to Hybern's camp to save Elain they also save another human. They are being pursued and clearly, the human girl is terrified of them, but it is Elain that says this:

"Grab onto him!" Elain ordered to the wide-eyed human girl as Azriel thundered toward her. *skipped ahead* "Elain screamed at her, "If you want to live, do it now!" ~ ACOWAR pg. 577

She also does this when the King of Hybern's beasts are upon them:

"Elain moved. As Azriel battled to keep them airborne, keep his grip on them, my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast's face. Its eye. *Skipped ahead* "Elain slammed her bare, muddy foot into its face again. The blow struck home." ACOWAR pg. 577

Knowing that their lives are in danger and that if this beast does anything to Azriel's wings they are all going to die. She does not hesitate and does not back down as she goes after the beast with her barefoot.

She slays the King of Hybern as well:

"Elain stepped out of a shadow behind him, and rammed Truth-Teller to the hilt through the back of the King's neck as she snarled in his ear, "Don't you touch my sister." ~ ACOWAR pg. 652

She has a protective streak in her and she will go down swinging if she has to.

And this I just found interesting. Everyone seems to shy away from Amren, but in ACOFAS this happens when they're all eating together:

"Elain, to my surprise, held Amren's gaze." ~ ACOFAS pg. 108

I just like that she held Amren's gaze.

Being Feminine Isn't Boring

I see a lot of people saying that Elain being feminine is boring, that she isn't an exciting heroine. Yes, Elain isn't one of SJM's typical heroines, but I think that makes her all the more interesting. We've never seen someone who isn't like Aelin, Bryce, Feyre, and Nesta from SJM.

"Elain stood between Nuala and Cerridwen at the long worktable. All three of them covered in flour." ~ ACOWAR pg. 386

"Elain was in the kitchen, helping Nuala and Cerridwen prepare the evening meal." ~ ACOFAS pg. 101

"She'd been toiling in the estate gardens since dawn." ~ ACOSF pg. 28

"Elain had already departed with Feyre, claiming she had to be up with the dawn to tend to an elderly faerie's garden." ~ ACOSF pg. 311

Do I think Elain's entire book will be based on her baking and taking care of gardens? No, I don't. I think she is capable of more than that and that is going to lead into my next point.

Elain Archeron, 007

This is not a new theory and it isn't even one that I came up with. Many lovely Elriels have pointed out comparisons to Azriel and Elain and how he may even teach her how to be a spy. I think it is a perfectly lovely idea. Let me show you some quotes from the book that make me think that this could be a possibility.

"Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, "Using me." ~ ACOSF pg. 230

They were talking about looking for the Dread Trove here and scrying. They were debating who should do it when Elain stepped up. She has done this before and with her seer abilities she is a perfect choice for the job. Obviously several characters aren't thrilled with the idea (Nesta and Azriel being two of the ones that don't like the idea).

"Azriel stiffened, an outright sign of temper from him as he said quietly, "There is an innate darkness to the Drea Trove that Elain should not be exposed to." ~ ACOSF pg. 311

"Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why." ~ ACOSF pg. 470

"You came," Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. *skipped ahead* "Wondering if she'd been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends." ~ ACOSF pg. 595

We see that even Nesta is questioning whether or not Elain has been having lessons. She very well could have or this could be a hidden talent that Nesta has never gotten to see or never cared to see because she viewed Elain as someone who is innocent and needing protection.

Nesta mothers Elain throughout the series, we constantly see her coming to Elain's defense, stepping in front of her, talking for her. And while Elain used to let that slide we can see now that she is coming into her own and not letting Nesta walk all over her.

"Elain said, "You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater." ~ ACOSF pg. 232

I think Elain has been denied many things in her life because she has been seen as the most beautiful. Her own mother seeing her as nothing more than a pretty face that would be easy to marry off once she was of age. What will she do now that she has more freedom than she did before? Now that she will not become some lord's wife?

I do not see Elain as a warrior who is ready for battle, but I see her being ready for a different kind of battle.

"It took hours for Elain to work her charm on the staff to swiftly pack their bags and leave, each with a purse of money to hasten the process." ~ ACOMAF pg. 250

You know who else is charming? James Bond.

Being another pretty face has something going for Elain. No one would look at her and think "Yeah she's totally a spy." She can charm people, make them feel more at ease, and get them to open up. Maybe even enough that they think nothing of divulging things in front of her that otherwise shouldn't be overheard.

Maybe she can learn to glamour herself so that she is not recognizable to others. Who knows but I'm sure we'll find out when her book happens.

Welcome To Spring

One of my least favorite theories I've seen is that Elain will leave the Night Court and her family to go to Spring. Even going as far as saying that she will wind up with Tamlin. I don't think Feyre would let her sister wind up with her abuser plain and simple. Nor do I think Elain would fall for her sister's abuser just because he lives in a land of eternal spring and has flowers.

In ACOSF Nesta has this thought:

"Elain would love this place. So many flowers, all in bloom, so much green, *skipped ahead* But Elain... The Spring Court had been made for someone like her." ~ ACOSF pg. 454

While I do believe that Elain would love the Spring Court I do not think she would ever leave her family or friends behind.

"Two half-wraiths she called friends." ~ ACOSF pg. 595

"Cassian kissing Elain's cheek in greeting. *skipped ahead* Amren came next, giving my sister a nod. *skipped ahead* The Mor, with a smacking kiss for either cheek." ~ ACOFAS pg. 105

We also know that the sisters tend to consider one of the brothers friends. Feyre with Cassian, Nesta with Azriel, and I believe Rhys and Elain will also be friends. He seems to like Elain (certainly more than he likes Nesta).

Plus now there is Nyx in the mixture and why would she leave and miss out on her nephew growing up? What about if Nesta becomes pregnant and has a child? So no I do not believe that Elain will leave the Night Court.

Shipping Time

Here is where opinions and feelings may vary and people might not like what I have to say. Just know that these are merely my feelings on a ship. Ship what you want to ship, I am not here to gatekeep. These are merely my feelings on the matter. I'm going to start with the two ships I like: Elain x Azriel and Lucien x Vassa.

Elain Archeron x Azriel

I mentioned this earlier but I've been shipping them since ACOMAF. I saw the potential for them from the moment they began to interact.

"Elain rasped, "Nice to meet you," before hustling after her, the silk skirts of her cobalt dress whispering over the parquet floor." ~ ACOMAF pg. 253

I like the symbolism in this line. Cobalt = Azriel's siphons. Whispering = Azriel's shadows. While it might not be that deep as a writer I like the small things like this in my works. Things that later when you come back to them after something important happens that is a callback to something like this you can go "ooooh that makes sense now, yeah." We also do see other mentions of Elain wearing blue, but this post is long enough and it's only a few more times so I don't think it's worth noting. This part just sticks out to me because it's the first time they're meeting and like I said I love symbolism.

"Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, "Can you truly fly?" ~ ACOMAF pg. 256

Elain who has been taught to fear the Fae is talking to him, also probably leaning around Cassian - who she is seated next to and also has wings - and asking if he can fly.

Azriel responds on the same page saying, "We're born hearing the song of the wind." And her response of, "That's very beautiful." This is the same male who famously said he wouldn't need poetry to woo a woman. Maybe he's not trying to woo her here, but he's trying to impress her.

"Elain, noticing Azriel's ease as proof that things weren't indeed about to go badly offered one (a smile) of her own as well." ~ ACOMAF pg. 258

She seems mighty comfortable with a Fae she just met. Which leads my into my two mate theory that I've had for some time now.

We know the tweet where SJM says that someone can have two mates. This was during a time when one of the TOG novels was about to come out and was probably referencing something in there, but I think it would be interesting to see play out in this situation as well.

We've seen several times people questioning Elain and Lucien's mating bond. Feyre and Azriel both do it. Feyre during ACOWAR and Azriel in his bonus chapter from ACOSF.

We also know that not all mates are happy pairings ie. Rhysand's parents and Tamlin's parents. We also know that sometimes it's based on who would have the strongest offspring. We can see this reflected in both Rhysand and Feyre's mating (he's considered the most powerful High Lord and she has abilities from all seven HLs).

But what if Elain and Lucien aren't true mates? True mates to me is a happily mated pair like Feyre and Rhys as well as Nesta and Cassian. Azriel questions why his brothers were mated to two sisters while the third was mated to another. (Pardon me for not using quotes here, I do not have the bonus chapter so I am going from memory.)

Why indeed? And I think it was because he was on the floor dying at the time. We know that the Cauldron loves Elain, so if her true mate was on the floor dying and there was no guarantee for survival it would make sense for the Cauldron to gift Elain another mating bond.

I will talk more about this in the section where I discuss them as a ship, but I wanted to briefly mention it here.

We also know the scene where Azriel hands over Truth-Teller to her, something that shocks all of them. I think of Truth-Teller like Azriel's security blanket. Something that brings him comfort and he never ever wants to part with it. But he gives it to Elain.

After she was taken by the Cauldron and held captive at Hybern's camp. After she says this:

"She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. "You came for me." The shadowsinger only inclined his head." ~ ACOWAR pg. 573

Why did she look only to Azriel? Why did she seem so surprised that he would come for her? Kind of like how a princess might not believe that her prince has come for her. (Love me some Disney princess movies)

To me these two just fit together. And to me they are more like Hades and Persephone than Feyre and Rhysand are. And hear me out: Elain as Persephone, goddess of spring. Azriel as Hades, god of death. (Feyre once calls him Death when thinking of a painting of him and Elain. Death and the lovely fawn she called it). Some might see Azriel and Elain falling in love as stealing her away from her mother (or mate in this case).

Also if you want another mythology reference. Paris (Azriel), Helen (Elain), Menelaus (Lucien). Helen was considered the most beautiful and was stolen away from her husband Menelaus (though I think she went with Paris willingly so there's that.)

I see so many parallels and signs that point toward an Elriel endgame. We know Elain's book is in the works and I'm pretty sure it's next since Sarah has talked about doing research for her book. We also know that Sarah is excited to work with Azriel as well.

Moving on.

Lucien Vanserra x Vassa

I've been shipping them since ACOWAR. So not as long as Elriel, but since a bit. I think this was the line that did it for me:

"Indeed, Vassa still remained inside, chatting with Lucien animatedly. *skipped ahead* Lucien, surprisingly, was chuckling, his shoulders loose and his head angled while he listened." ~ ACOWAR pg. 690

Unlike with Elain, he seems comfortable around Vassa.

"Even with Elain here, he's become close with Jurian and Vassa. He's voluntarily living with them these days, and not just as an emissary. As their friend." ~ ACOSF pg. 57

I'm a sucker for the friends to lovers trope (it only falls after the enemies to lovers trope). And while we do not have a lot on them I can see the two of them being happy. I can see Lucien trying to find a way to make her immortal if that's what she wants. And I just want the two of them finding their HEA together in the final book.

My theory is that Vassa will be the MC of the last book and will deliver the killing blow to Koschei (as she should). I would love to see their journey together and their time together in the mortal lands especially since the mating bond would be severed at this point if Elriel is the book before this one. I want Lucien to be happy and I think that he could be happy with Vassa.

Elain Archeron x Lucien Vanserra

We know that Elain and Lucien are mates. He announced this on page 608 a little bit after Elain had come out of the Cauldron. But these two do not seem to fit together in my opinion. Now please note I have nothing against Elucien, I even like some of the fanart and the theories I have read are wonderful. I'm just personally not a fan of these two because of how they were thrust together.

When comparing Jesiminda and Elain, Lucien says this:

"Elain had been... thrown at him." ACOWAR pg. 249

I know Lucien wants to be happy and I know mates are special, but I don't necessarily think that Elain will be his happiness. I think that the way they met ruined that for them.

"But Elain blinked slowly, "You were in Hybern." *Skipped ahead* "You betrayed us." ACOWAR pg. 250 - 251

Lucien, however willing or unwillingly, did play some part in Elain being turned Fae. He was one of the reasons she could no longer go home or marry Graysen. I don't know if that's something that could be overcome especially since Elain is still dealing with the events of that day.

We also know that Elain tends to avoid him, shrinking in on herself when he's around. Another reason why I can't ship this is because I've been in a similar situation where people were pressuring me to be with someone I had no interest in. I know what it's like to hear "you two are perfect for each other", "you should give him a chance", "just try".

Their relationship is not evolving naturally like Feyre and Rhys's did or Cassian and Nesta's. I don't think Lucien would ever push the mating bond onto Elain, but I do think since it's something special to Fae he may cling to it more than she will.

Another thing about their bond that doesn't sit with me is how it is described.

"It felt... strange," Elain breathed. "Like you pulled on a thread tied to a rib." ACOWAR pg. 301

"There's a bond - it's a real thread," he said, more to himself than us." ACOWAR pg. 301

Other bonds have been described as "so much golden thread" or an "unbreakable chain". But Elain and Lucien's is described as a singular thread that feels as though it were attached to a rib. To me mating bonds are like soulmates, why would that bond be attached to a rib and not the heart or her being?

I believe that once again either the Cauldron created this bond between them or maybe they are not what's considered a "perfect match" like Elain's sisters with their mates are.

I will say this: If Elain and Lucien do wind up together I won't be mad. Sure they are not my preferred ship, but they both deserve happiness and can find it together then good for them. We will just have to wait and see where SJM takes them.

Azriel x Gwyn Berdara

I've lowkey been dreading talking about them because of how toxic this fanwar between Elriels and Gwynriels gets. Once again this is just my opinion and my theories. No hate or shade to any of the shippers. I will not be bashing theories. If you don't want to read my thoughts then please just leave now and pretend you never saw this.

I do not like Azriel and Gwyn as a ship for one very big reason: power imbalance. Azriel saved Gwyn from a highly traumatic experience. Now before I go any further let me say that I brought this up to my mom who also reads the series but isn't a shipper, she just reads them to enjoy them. I asked her what she thought of Az x Gwyn as a pairing and if she would like to see that and she said no that she also felt there would be a power imbalance.

Gwyn is a strong character, but I do not think I could get behind her and Az as a couple because of how they met.

I also do not believe that Gwyn will be the MC of any of the last books there are. We still have Elain's book, possibly a Mor book, or even Vassa. There are too many people from the original trilogy that we need to see books for. While I will not rule out a book in the future I don't see her getting one now.

I know the necklace is a hot button issue, but I also don't believe that Clotho gave it to her. We never hear it mentioned in the main portion of the book and I think Clotho knew how troubled Azriel was and thought that she should hold onto it just in case.

"You're the new ribbon, Az," ~ ACOSF pg. 623

Gwyn is a competitive person, to me this line that Nesta says is here merely telling Az that Gwyn's next challenge would be to prove him wrong about the training course. Nesta knows of Azriel's feelings for her sister by this point, so I don't see this line as her teasing Az about Gwyn possibly having a crush on him.

But again these are just how I interpret things between them.

These are all my thoughts at the moment that I'm going to share. If you would like to have a discussion my ask box is open. Hate will not be tolerated though.

#Elain Archeron #Elriel #Azriel #pro Elain Archeron #pro Azriel #pro Elriel #ACOTAR 5 #ACOTAR 5 predictions #ACOTAR theories

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vidalinav · 3 years

Text

Because You’re an Asshole (One-shot)

Contains ACOSF Spoilers.

Look, Cassian needs to drink some respect Nesta Archeron juice (as they all do). I hope to god he gains some perspective in this book, and he doesn’t continue this stupidity of reducing Nesta to butchery status. (Raises glass) Here’s hoping this lug nut starts making an effort. But this fic is purely self-indulgent because well... I’m the fic writer. So I can do what I want.

Summary: Nesta rejects Cassian in front of the Inner Circle (Takes place in my head a couple of months after first 6 chapters)

Nesta wouldn’t say she had changed much, but to her sister and their group of friends she’d say she might as well have been a different person. For they pretended not to stare as she arrived with Cassian in tow. Some extraterrestrial creature in the middle of a restaurant.

She greeted the owner, Sevenda, lifting her lips into a polite smile and nodding when she caught Nesta’s gaze.

“Hello, sweet girl,” The female gushed, “I didn’t think you were helping out today... please don’t tell me one of the others conned you into taking their shift.”

Nesta shook her head shyly as Cassian told the female they were meeting the rest of them for a late dinner. Sevenda kissed him on the cheek, and Nesta wondered how one person could show so much affection when she could barely muster a proper laugh.

Truthfully, the only reason she made it to this dinner at all was because Bryaxis had asked her to. He’d been in the middle of telling her how the stars moved on an axis, and how the shadows were often wandering souls. He had so many stories to tell in that dark place in the library, but he’d wanted stories too. He was persistent, pushy…persuasive and Nesta could not let down her new friend when all he wanted to do was know about the outside world.

Nesta knew enough about being ostracized. She felt for the monster for she was a monster too. Cast away to the darkened ends of the library.

But, Nesta wanted this night to be over. She’d promised Bryaxis ten minutes and ten minutes only. She could survive that long on fake grins.

She tried not to sigh audibly as Sevenda showed them to the table, where the others already sat. Laughing loudly... then quieting to silence as they neared.

Nesta should have felt offended. But she couldn’t find it in herself to care too much.

The night would be over soon enough anyways.

True, Amren had visited her in the library just last week and they’d been cordial. She saw Mor on a regular basis to winnow to Windhaven, and Azriel was always there. It seemed odd to her now that they stared as if she were someone new. Someone they didn’t know at all.

Perhaps, though, it was because she’d agreed to come in the first place and when she did, she’d allowed Cassian to accompany her there. Though she suspected the offer was more because they were all still wary of her change, her calmness.

Nesta wouldn’t have called it that herself.

She hadn’t stopped being angry, she’d been born angry. Raged and kicked her way to this world.

Nesta just merely stopped... fighting back.

There was a peace in that, she supposed. Even if the thought sometimes made her want to hurt something and then herself for letting it happen.

Most of the time she was just detached enough to smile when someone called her name and when they left she’d go back to staring off into space, the dust like hidden galaxies floating through the filtered sunlight. It was what Nesta liked about the library in truth. That most didn’t bother her when she’d looked out the array of windows, up on those tall ladders, ready to see Velaris in a tiny frame.

In this way, the world was a lot smaller than she’d realized.

Less frightening.

And because the world was less frightening, the people in it, too, were less mean. She’d wandered after her workday, tired, but with a furious curiosity for more, like a hunger she couldn’t satisfy, and she’d ended up here. At Sevenda’s--the female greeting her and offering her a meal, even when Nesta told her she didn’t have the money to pay.

On the house then, the female said.

It was the best meal she’d ever had and Nesta had come back every time she could. Helping with the books, with inventory, while the owner patted her on the shoulder, her cheek, and brought her something new to try. Like a doting grandmother.

It felt odd, she thought seeing the rest in a large booth to the wall. This place, too, did not belong to her...

“No need to order,” the female proclaimed, “I know what you all like.”

Nesta waited for Cassian to scooch into the booth before she sat on the outskirts. Easy access to the door. Easy to leave.

But the others didn’t bother her much. Distantly, as if Nesta was not in the room, she could hear their voices begin again. To each other of course. Never to her. Though she’d accepted it long ago that she would never be what they wanted. They would never be what she needed.

Cassian laughed. The sound hurting her ears. He never laughed like that with her. Nesta supposed she wasn’t that funny… and she wasn’t really his friend.

Instead, Nesta looked to the restaurant. Alive in all it’s glory. Loud and bright. She looked to the waitstaff. Most of them she’d met already, worked with some of them, and they smiled or waved when they saw her. Nesta lifted her hand to greet them, too.

One of the girls, Amina, brought out waters for the table.

Amina grinned when she saw her there.

But she did not leave when the cups had been set. Instead, she lingered, lowering her voice and leaning towards her. “We’re going to the symphony tomorrow if you want to come.”

“And you must come,” Sevenda said, coming from behind with a plate of appetizers in her hand. Something to tide them over.

Nesta blinked at the two females, unsure of what to say—what to do.

“I’ve never been to symphony before,” Nesta answered.

Sevenda set the bread in the middle of the table, and then raised a hand to her chest dramatically. “You’ll just adore it. Grand tales, handsome males, intriguing music all around. Perhaps, I’ll gather more of the staff and we’ll make a whole day of it.”

Nesta shook her head, waving her hands slightly. “You’re pretty busy, you don’t have to—”

“Nonsense, sweet girl,” She said, raising a hand to Nesta’s cheek. She could feel the warmth on her face. “Nobody would be too busy for you.”

Nesta smiled at that, a testament to how much she had changed that she’d allowed the touch and a triumph at how Nesta felt something other than nothing at all.

“I’ll be right back,” Sevenda noted chipperly. “Eat some bread.”

As the female left, Nesta didn’t want to look at the rest of the group, didn’t want to see how they would judge her, didn’t want to see if she cared or not. They’d meant to heal her. Did they think they were successful?

Cassian gazed down at her, his eyes uncommonly fond. All Nesta thought was that she was probably not embarrassing any longer.

She wondered if seeing her tolerated by others made him realize that she was tolerable.

Because, Nesta had not been tolerable to him this morning.

“You know, we can go to the symphony,” Cassian suggested, the apples of his cheeks blooming a dust of red. Nesta’s brows furrowed at the words. Her lips tilting down into an expression that might have been quizzical. "Some time... together I mean.”

Nesta looked at the others, but it seemed they were trying not to snicker, or they were too curious at what she would do. Rhysand tried to hide his smirk, Azriel held onto the bridge of his nose, Mor raised a brow as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, Amren took a sip of wine, rolling her eyes, and Feyre... well Feyre looked to her.

Say something, her eyes seemed to say.

But Nesta went to gaze at the people around her, happy and conversing at their own tables. The noise a rum drum lur of heartbeats and shouts and quiet whispers of some things she’d never be able to listen to even if she tried to read their lips.

This was... life, she thought. A cacophony of angry yells and laughter.

She’d almost forgotten what it sounded like...

But it wasn’t because of him that she could now recognize the notes. A song Nesta desperately wanted to hear. It wasn’t because of them at this table... and Nesta wondered what made Cassian suggest this. In front of his friends.

Did he think she would not easily reject him?

Didn’t he know she was a private person?

“Cassian, what’s my favorite color?”

He simply blinked, surprised by her words. She waited for his answer, but it never came.

Nesta continued.

“What’s my favorite drink?” She asked.

Still Cassian said nothing.

“What time do I usually get up in the morning? It’s certainly not the time I’m forced to train with you.”

Cassian didn’t answer and instead of it making her angry, it just made her irrevocably sad.

“How about... my favorite book?”

“You’ve read so many how could you choose,” he said. Nesta huffed a laugh.

She’d read the same book for the past three months because she couldn’t stand to open a new one. There was something about the familiarity that comforted her and the thought of meeting new characters, entering new worlds scared her for reasons she was only beginning to understand. That book had been sitting in the living room every morning. Every night.

Nesta leaned forward, her cheek resting on her palm. The action made her breasts push up in her dress and she noticed the way his eyes lingered on them.

“No?” She asked, somberly, shaking her head. “How about the food I hate. The thing I’m most scared of. Excited about... Nothing?”

Nesta waved her hand, her voice growing louder, “I mean I know you know how little I eat, how bad I fight, how much weight I’ve lost. You’re very good about reminding me. But do you know... where I even go in the evenings?”

She looked down wrinkling her nose as she huffed a laugh, “You know I get nightmares every night... you must hear them in that room above mine.” She pointed to Azriel. “He does. He asked me about them once. I think I told him some lie or another... but have you ever asked? Have you even asked how I’ve been doing? How I feel? You certainly didn’t ask whether I wanted to train with you but of course that was settled fairly quickly.”

She took a deep breath, waiting for him to speak but he didn’t. Nesta fiddled with her napkin, unfolding it and then looked to the ceiling. She could see the dust float around the rounded lights.

“You know I hate to do this in front of your friends,” She lifted a hand in their direction, looking to Cassian once more. “I’m sure they have such high opinions of you. Their opinions of me, of course, are already very low. A bitch, I’m assuming is what I’ll be called today. Probably, to make your pride feel a little bit better. A little less wounded... Maybe they’ll believe it themselves too, because well,” Nesta shrugged, “the evidence is already there. It’s the nature of the circumstances I suppose.”

“It’s rather funny I think,” though Nesta didn’t laugh. “You don’t know anything about me. You want to go on a date?”

She lifted her hands up. Innocence personified. “I mean I’m assuming that what’s you meant by us going together to the symphony. We’re clearly not close enough to presume a casual friendly outing and everyone in this room and their mothers know we have some sort of history or they wouldn’t ask about it every time they see me or whisper it when they see us together.”

She smiled, her cheeks straining from the pull. “But for all that history... you know nothing about me. Instead, you have confused your emotions for ‘I’m sure she’s such a good fuck.’ Was it the boobs, the ass? The face maybe? I get that all the time.” Nesta gestured to the room around them, aware that she was making a scene, “Ask anyone of these males who’ve slept with me, I’m sure you’ll find one at any given moment...”

She clasped her hands together, crossing her legs as if she were holding a business meeting. Nesta raised a shoulder. “But at least they didn’t pretend. When they wanted to sleep with me, well... they just said they wanted to sleep with me. Unfortunately, if that’s what you want, you’ll have to buy me a drink first because I’ll have to be much drunker than this.”

Nesta leaned back in her seat. She couldn’t stop fidgeting, like the adrenaline had made her want to fight. She inhaled audibly, a low sound, exhaling lightly.

Cassian looked ashamed.

She tilted her head at that expression, feeling much calmer already.

“Look. As much I hate to admit this, a strict routine has done me some good. Maybe that’s why I can speak these words so truthfully,” Nesta said, her voice casual. “But do not ever think I have forgotten that I am as much a prisoner in my own body that I am in the House of Wind. I have little choice in anything regarding my life, even before this war. But this... I can choose this.”

Nesta refused to look at the rest of them as she lifted a hand to her neck, rubbing the muscle, suddenly tired and achy. “Not only have you bombarded my life in ways I didn’t expect nor ask for, you consistently touch me without my permission, get into my space when I am uncomfortable, push me when I am irritated. Why would I want to go out with you—A male who does not respect me?”

“I hope you didn’t think that me healing or whatever you called it,” She gestured away, “meant we’d be together... Time has already changed, unfortunately. Without us knowing it has slipped us by. Drifted right through our fingers...” She took a breath, staring at the lights on the ceiling. “We’re different people now...”

Nesta looked him straight in the eyes. Willed him to listen to her, really listen. “I won’t wait 500 years for you. I want more.” She shrugged, the light of Cassian’s eyes dimming. “I want better.”

She picked up her things, piling the plates and cup on top of each other. Making sure the napkin was neatly folded. Nesta swallowed, the heaviness setting in. She peered up at Cassian, his hair wild, stray pieces falling out from the leather band. His eyes bright and a hollow amber. “I want you to know that it isn’t because you’re a bastard. I’m sure you’ll think that when you go over this conversation later. But I’m not rejecting you because you’re a bastard... It’s because you’re an asshole.”

Nesta stood up to leave, but Cassian grabbed her hand. She peered down at him. He’d always been taller than her. It seemed odd to see him so small.

“What about me? You don’t know anything about me either.”

Nesta laughed, a small, short sound. “Your favorite color is red.”

Mor’s favorite color, too.

“Your favorite food? Stew, because it reminds you of Illyria. You’re scared of thunder, because it makes you think of your wings being shredded, or at least that’s what you told Azriel when you didn’t think I was paying attention. You like to drink whiskey when something bad happens, but rum when you're celebrating, and you have nightmares too. I suspect they’re probably the same as mine.”

She smiled at him, a melancholic tilt of her lips for those bittersweet memories—for those bittersweet dreams. Cassian looked dejected and she wanted to smooth away the lines with her fingers, but she’d been hurt for far too long from far too many people who’d promised they protect her, so Nesta clenched her fists instead.

“I’m glad we had this chat today.” She looked around the table, grimacing as she tried to smile. The others looked to her as if they were seeing her for the first time. This girl who’d calmy told the commander to go fuck himself. “Please don’t invite me to anymore of these.”

And with that Nesta left, nodding a farewell to Sevenda, coming out with a large tray of food. Two minutes and she was already making her way out the door.

You know these really make me feel better about everything I have to process. But I am so tired, because I can’t sleep waiting for this book. So is this fic good? I don’t know. I can barely read it through.

But I keep ranting, like everyday.

So, one rant=one mini fic

lol so now I have to go write the Nesta sticks up for Cassian fic (which is different than I think you’ll think it is) My work performance is really going to go down this week. But at least this one is uwu status (i.e. fluff--mostly)

Bye.

#acosf spoilers #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acosf #nessian fanfiction

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cakesunflower · 3 years

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a court of golden shadows: elain archeron and azriel endgame

so this is like an 11 page paper i wrote on why i think Elain Archeron and Azriel from Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses are endgame. i made a joke on twitter that i’d write a proper MLA format styled paper on them because i love them so much and a bunch of my moots convinced me to do it so here i am.

this is for the Elriel lovers like myself. if you read it, which you don’t have to, please refrain from commenting anything negative. everyone is entitled to their own opinions, and this whole essay is just my opinion on it. so if you read, i hope you enjoy!!

keep in mind, it’s LONG.

A Court of Golden Shadows: Elain Archeron and Azriel Endgame

Sarah J. Maas’s fantasy series A Court of Thorns and Roses displays epic, world-shattering love stories among the thrilling action and fantastical elements present throughout the novels, as seen in the romance between Feyre Archeron and Rhysand and, most recently, Nesta Archeron and Cassian. Two sisters have already accepted and embraced the (so-called) rare mating bond with their respective counterparts, yet the question remains on what is to happen with the middle sister, Elain Archeron, who apparently has a mating bond of her own with Lucien Vanserra, but has not, for two books and a novella, made any indication of accepting it. However, Elain, in her quiet, gentle way, has shown to be more attentive towards the Night Court’s resident Shadowsinger and Spymaster, Azriel. Who, in turn, has notably started to move on from a five-century long love harbored for another female and gravitating towards the last remaining Archeron sister.

It can be said that the concept of the three Archeron sisters all ending up with the three Illyrian males is a cliché, but if done right, they can capture the reader in their grasp—one that no one would want to get out of. Taking a look at the novels, particularly starting from the second book, A Court of Mist and Fury, since this is where Azriel’s character is introduced, it is difficult to ignore the fact that Maas has been laying the groundwork for Elain and Azriel—or Elriel, as I will refer to them throughout this paper—to be a couple from the moment they met, whether these hints are subtle or obvious. In chapter 24 of ACOMAF where Feyre, the Illyrian faes, and her sisters have dinner together, we see tentative interactions between Elain and Azriel, despite the two of them having just met and Elain, as a mortal who grew up with stories of the terrors of faeries, seems to look towards the spymaster more. The first glimpse of their interaction, no matter how small, is shown on pages 253-254 when “a faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork”. Though this moment can be overlooked, it is only the first of many oncoming moments of Azriel noticing Elain and her actions, a subtle hint of the spymaster’s attention towards Elain. The focus of attention is returned when Elain then turns to Azriel a few pages later, wanting to know more about their ability to fly, even so far as going to say “That’s very beautiful” when Azriel describes Illyrians as being “born hearing the song of the wind” (256-257). Additionally, there are two moments in this particular chapter where Elain, in some semblance, looks towards Azriel as a way of relaxing herself. The first is noted when Azriel’s attention is said to be on Elain, and he offers her a “polite, bland smile”, and Feyre notices how Elain’s “shoulders loosened a bit” in response to it (256). Rather than looking towards Feyre for indicators during an unexpected dinner with faeries, Elain seems to be more drawn to looking at Azriel, which is shown once again in the following passage: “Rhys chuckled, Cassian’s wrath slipping enough that he grinned, and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well” (258). Elain tends to check everyone’s reactions to the circumstances to determine the levels of tension in the atmosphere, but she truly seems to be put at ease when she notices Azriel’s own relaxed state, once again indicating the attention she pays to him from the moment they met.

The first three books in Maas’s series are told through Feyre’s perspective, so it can be said that our perception of and desire for Elain and Azriel getting together is skewed because of the point of view we are given. I, however, consider this to be a moot point because Feyre’s character is the type to notice everything around her. She comes to grow close to both Azriel and Cassian, and with Elain being her sister, the reader can depend on Feyre as being as much of a reliable narrator to tell us exactly what she sees and how she sees it. With this in mind, some of the examples given will be from Feyre’s own musings, but it is important to note that she, more than once, groups Elain and Azriel together. This is shown when, in chapter 49, Feyre is distracting Rhysand as she tries to take care of his wounds and muses about her sisters visiting Velaris. There, Feyre mentions to Rhysand, “I think Elain—Elain would like it, too. Though she’d probably cling to Azriel, just to have some peace and quiet”, before proceeding to think to herself—and the reader, “I smiled at the thought—at how handsome they would be together” (487). Of course, this observation is followed by the acknowledgement of Azriel quietly loving Mor, as he has for centuries, yet what we don’t know, during this, that this wouldn’t remain an issue for long.

Moving on to focus on the third installment of the series, A Court of Wings and Ruin, there is a solemnity surrounding Elain, who, at the end of the second novel, was forcefully turned into fae against her will. After the transformation, Elain has become a shell of who she used to be, trapped in a state of deep mourning of the humanity she lost, of the love of her fiancé she inevitably lost, too. She doesn’t eat nor does she speak to anyone, an empty yet no less beautiful version of herself as her Cauldron given powers, unbeknownst to everyone else, manifest. But even in her state, in her indifference towards her mate Lucien and yearning for her human fiancé Graysen, Elain managed to acknowledge Azriel. He is gentle with her, much like everyone else, as he carries her into the townhouse, smiles, inquires if she’d like for him to show her the garden. And although he stands tall, intimidating in his fighting leathers and large wings, Elain does not recoil from him in fear or shyness. Instead, she takes the arm he offers her and, although it is unsure if she is looking at his Siphon or his scarred hands, she still utters “Beautiful” in response to him (254). Even when life has unexpectedly turned bleak for Elain, even when the world loses its color in the aftermath of the trauma she suffered, in that moment, there was a glimpse of who she used to be as she found beauty in nothing but Azriel.

This same chapter is followed by an insightful conversation between Feyre and Rhysand, triggered by Feyre watching her sister and Azriel. Feyre notes how at odds Azriel looks sitting in the garden next to Elain in his armor, yet she still questions, “Why not make them mates?” (257). This spurs a significant conversation between the High Lord and High Lady, where readers are given some more history on mating bonds and introduced to the prevailing concept of rejected bonds. Rhys provides examples of ill-chosen bonds, such as his parents, who were mates yet their relationship was not ideal in the least. Here, we are told that sometimes fate, the Mother, whatever chooses two mates can be wrong in its pairings, and it is rare for the bond to bring together “true, paired souls” (258) like Feyre and Rhysand. It has been established that the female can reject the bond, and while the male may feel the tug of it, it’s their burden to push through it. Maas spends an entire page or so talking about the concept of ill-chosen or rejected bonds, so it would be naive to look over these details if they weren’t placed in the storyline for a reason. Elain and Lucien may be mates, and Azriel (at least currently within the book) may be in love with Mor, but the idea of free will is not something to be so easily dismissed. Elain already had the choice of her humanity, her mortality, ripped away from her—it’s doubtful she would let this pattern continue.

In chapter 24 of A Court of Wings and Ruin, when Elain is having her first conversation with Lucien, she states, “No one ever looked—not really” (252), and although here she is referencing Graysen, this statement comes around a few chapters later. In chapter 27, Elain walks in on a conversation amongst the Inner Circle, and Azriel was the first to step forward as he noticed something amiss. His observations and questions when he says to her, “[But] you heard something else” and “What did you see” indicate that he, unlike Feyre and Nesta, believes that Elain’s riddled musings have a deeper meaning and need to be heard. The scene ends with Feyre looking to Azriel, noticing that his “hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away” (287). Azriel didn’t brush off what Elain said, because while her sisters thought Elain had gone mad, Azriel listened to her—he looked. He looked past her “too-thin body” and read between the lines of what she said, and knew there was more than what meets the eye. He looked, which was exactly what Elain had wanted.

This is repeated in chapter 32, when Elain brings up another queen and no one is quite sure what she’s talking about, except for Azriel, who steps forward and gently prods Elain to elaborate. Even Lucien watches Elain warily, questioning if they need to help her, yet Azriel is firm in his assessment that Elain doesn’t need help, that they need to be the ones who need to listen, before ultimately determining that she does, in fact, have powers and is established to be a seer. So while Lucien “stared and stared at [Elain], as if he’d never seen her before”, it was Azriel who actually looked at her and saw what no one else was seeing, whose acknowledgment of her gift and the attention he brought to it from everyone else “freed her from whatever murky realm she’d been in” (336).

The idea of Azriel truly looking at Elain transitions into him looking for her, too. But first, another example of the former is seen in chapter 63, when Feyre, Nesta, and Amren hear the call of the cauldron in the middle of the night. They wonder about it, question why they three heard it because they were Made, not noticing that another who was Made was missing from their group. That is, until, Azriel asks, “What about Elain?” (560), and he is moving alongside the sisters to inspect Elain’s tent, only to find her missing. Azriel notices Elain—whether she is present or not. And so the concept of Azriel looking for Elain is introduced when they are discussing Elain’s rescue from Hybern in the following scene:

“From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows.

Nesta said, “Then you will die.”

Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”” (563).

There was no hesitation on Azriel’s part in being the one to get Elain back, but there was obvious rage, as noted, in his gaze at the very idea of Elain having been kidnapped. A silent, lethal aura surrounds the shadowsinger that can be so clearly picked out within that scene, showcasing Azriel’s unwavering determination in returning Elain, even if it meant slipping into the heart of enemy camps—especially if it meant that. And throughout the dangers and urgency of this particular mission, when they do reach Elain, Azriel takes a moment to be tender towards her as he “gently removed the gag from her mouth” (573) and asks if she’s hurt. Elain, in turn, is shown to be “devouring the sight of him, as if not quite believing it” before she says “You came for me” (573). Elain looks at Azriel in wonder and disbelief, and this reaction hints towards how she feels drawn towards him. In their very first meeting during the dinner in the Archeron house, Elain looks to Azriel for reassurance, for judgement of the situation, and in the event of her rescue, she finds that same kind of comfort on a far more intense level. Because here, he truly is her rescuer, appearing in front of her to save her from the dangerous hands of their enemies and bring her to safety. And Azriel, in this sense, is devoted to her, holding up his fierce promising of getting her back. Even when he was injured, Azriel held onto Elain, refusing to let her go even while getting shot at and chased, and when they landed in their own camps, the first thing he claimed was for someone to get the chains off of her, rather than even mentioning his own injuries. This just reminds us of ACOMAF when Elain was being dragged to the cauldron and Azriel wasn’t even conscious to witness it—there is no doubt that if he was awake—and uninjured—he would’ve done all he could to save her. Maas robbed us of that type of scene.

Furthermore, evolving from the concept of Azriel rescuing Elain, we get another significant scene between the two of them that displays the kind of trust these two characters smoothly and effortlessly developed. On top of Elain accepting Azriel’s offers of taking her to the garden, a silent indicator that his company was one she enjoyed, Azriel shows a great act of trust to Elain as well when, in chapter 69, he offered her the use of his beloved knife, Truth-Teller. This blade is Azriel’s most prized possession, and to offer it to Elain to bring her the same kind of comfort and safety that we have seen she finds in Azriel himself portrays the trust he has in her—and his desire to protect her. This is emphasized when Rhys tells Feyre, “Never. . . I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife” (610). Even Cassian was stunned that Azriel would let someone else use Truth-Teller, which is significant to note given that he has not let even Cassian nor Rhys—his brothers he has known for centuries—even touch it. And Elain, who had refused to take the knife Cassian had offered her, ends up accepting Truth-Teller—because it’s Azriel’s, and because through the short time she’s known him, he is someone she has poured her trust into and understands he wouldn’t lead her astray. And he didn’t, for it was Elain who “stepped out of a shadow” (653) and used that very same blade to kill the King of Hybern. A temporary gift, given from Azriel, that she used to put an end to one of the greatest threats to both the human and faerie realms.

In the post-war novella A Court of Frost and Starlight, Maas furthers the Elriel endgame agenda by continuing both subtle and blatant hints in their favor—and not just through actual interactions between the two. The concept of Azriel avoiding Lucien because of his mating bond with Elain is important to remember, for it will come back around later. But in this novella, we see it when Rhysand asks Azriel if he keeps an eye on Lucien, given that he is the spymaster. Azriel, in turn, informs him that he does not track his movements, because “He is Elain’s mate” and “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him”, which Rhysand, since this is shown from his perspective, notes is because Azriel does not want to be aware of if and when Lucien seeks out Elain, and what they do together—if they do anything at all, given Elain’s tendencies to utterly ignore Lucien (70). Rhysand questions Azriel’s motives on this, but doesn’t get a response, but there is an understanding of Azriel’s intentions behind it. Not only does he want to remain ignorant of the forced bond between Elain and Lucien, but a big motivator for him is also Elain’s privacy, which he doesn’t want to intrude on—ironic, given that he is a spy, and it’s his job to know of others’ movements and thoughts.

Another example of Azriel very subtly showing his blossoming feelings towards Elain is when he unforgivingly states that if Lucien were to kill Elain’s ex-fiancé, then “good riddance” (71). He was well aware of how Graysen treated Elain after finding out she was fae, is the one who sits with her in the gardens because he is a comforting presence for her in the face of mourning, so he understands her. This idea is repeated in Azriel’s bonus chapter in A Court of Silver Flames, when Rhysand catches Azriel almost about to kiss Elain—that is definitely to be unpacked later—and warns him that Lucien has the right to invoke a Blood Duel to defend the mating bond, and Azriel does not hesitate, is confident, when he retorts that he would easily defeat Lucien, would have no problem in pulling Elain out of a bond she doesn’t even want.

The novella also includes some more obvious, sweet moments between Elain and Azriel, ones that show Elain’s own growing interest and feelings towards Azriel. Like in chapter 12, when Feyre notes that when Azriel enters the room, she feels Elain freeze at the sight of him, and then Elain proceeds to be almost in a trance when Azriel, after she greets him, moves towards her and takes the heavy dish of potatoes from her hands and says he’ll take care of it for her (105). This scene then continues when Elain hurries off to make herself more presentable, and rather than letting others dive into the food, Azriel stops Cassian from putting food on his plate and all but commands him to “wait until everyone is seated before eating” (106). Rhysand informs Feyre that this sudden reaction from Azriel stemmed from the treatment his mother received as a near servant, but it can also be tied to how Azriel keeps aware of Elain and the recurring theme of looking after her in any way. He notices her, just as she notices him, a subtle way of this being present in Elain’s solstice gift to Azriel. She doesn’t get a gift for Lucien, her mate, but does get one for Azriel, one that makes him laugh in a way that, Feyre notes, she’s never heard before. A genuine sort of joy breaking the cold, indifferent mask of the shadowsinger as he accepts and cherishes the gift Elain gave him—the extent of which we see in his bonus chapter, where it is revealed that he looks at the small vial every night before going to sleep, a not-so-subtle showing that Elain is the last thought on his mind before he descends into slumber.

This notion of the two of them looking after one another in their own ways is again repeated in A Court of Silver Flames in the following passage on page 221:

Azriel smirked. “You and Nesta are wanted down there.”

“Because of the shit with Elain?”

Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Cassian waved a hand. “A fight with Nesta. Don’t bring it up,” he warned when Azriel’s eyes darkened.

Throughout the friendship they have formed, Azriel becomes a kind of protector of Elain’s, deriving from her being a part of their Inner Circle as well as the notion of Azriel’s own personal feelings for her. He is so obviously shown as going on the defense at the news of Elain getting into any kind of fight, of Elain potentially being hurt. It’s repeated on page 233 when Elain and Nesta are arguing, and after Nesta utters a nasty comment that lands on Elain like a blow, there is an acknowledgement of the “shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike”. The shadows, of course, are Azriel’s, ready to jump between the sisters and defend Elain from Nesta’s verbal attack, to once again be her protector.

Of course, we can’t forget that Elain has a mate in Lucien, and how it seems to offer the enticing forbidden love trope between her and Azriel. We see a hint of it in A Court of Wings and Ruin, when in chapter 24, Lucien can scent where Elain had gone off to and who she’d gone with, in this case having it be Azriel, and he’d nearly snarled until Rhysand assured him that Azriel wasn’t the “ravishing type” (254)—although I think we can all agree that he most likely is, but wouldn’t even dream of it in terms of the state Elain was in at the time. Maybe it is the mating bond or maybe it’s both Elain and Azriel’s quiet personalities—or perhaps a combination of the two—but the shyness that has them looking at each other and then looking away continues. On page 467 of A Court of Silver Flames, Cassian notes how Elain nods shyly towards Azriel, who in turn offers her a small smile that she quickly looked away from, prompting Cassian to be puzzled as he wondered, “Lucien was certainly not here to snarl at any male who looked at her for too long”. Elain doesn’t look away from Azriel because of the bond, but perhaps because she is well aware of her feelings for him and, for the moment, is too shy for them to be known, especially by Azriel.

The mating bond between Elain and Lucien does serve as a barrier between her and Azriel, though. This is particularly present during the Winter Solstice, when a layer of Azriel’s character specifically has been peeled back to show his feelings for Elain. Like on page 597, when Elain is laughing at Nesta, the older Archeron sister notes that “Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it”. And if that wasn’t enough, Nesta watches as Azriel’s “gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting”. This is perhaps the most prominent moment of both of their feelings being reciprocated by the other, because Nesta notices the way they look at one another, as if they both see past the person they put in front of everyone else and truly see the other. And even Nesta understands that there is something deeper between the two, even if they themselves haven’t figured it out yet, when she approaches Azriel where he stands by the doorway and, when asked why he doesn’t sit, responds with a “pretty lie” of his shadows not liking the fire. But Nesta looks to where Elain is the one sitting by the fire, and why Azriel chooses to stand as far as he can, because it is “his secret to tell. Never hers” (600). Just like that, Nesta is aware of Azriel’s feelings for her sister and, perhaps, her subtle way of comforting him was her showing her approval.

We get a deeper insight of this scene in Azriel’s bonus chapter—an entire chapter that allows readers to see exactly how he feels about Elain, and that she returns those feelings, too. It is confirmed that Azriel stands by the doorway, away from Elain, because Lucien is in the same room, and the sight and scent of their mating bond is one that Azriel cannot stand. Because the female he feels deeply for, according to fate, “belongs” to another male and he needs to put distance between himself and the two of them when they’re in the same room. Yet, the mating bond doesn’t prevent Azriel from thinking of Elain, from fantasizing about her every night. He goes from being shown as relieved when Rhys tells him he doesn’t have to buy the sisters presents for the Winter Solstice in A Court of Frost and Starlight, to actively buying her a beautiful flower necklace that she would no doubt love. Their secret exchanging of gifts leads to an epic, steamy, full-of-yearning almost first kiss that shows so clearly that Azriel’s feelings for Elain aren’t unrequited, that she, just like him, is desperate to give into what’s been brewing between them for so long. Yet it’s all cut short when Rhys interrupts Azriel, reminding him of a mating bond that Azriel’s painfully aware of—and confidently willing to pull Elain away from if Lucien decides to invoke the Blood Duel. Azriel’s questioning of the cauldron, wondering why it picked three sisters and had two of them end up with his brothers while the last remaining one was mated to another, is not him declaring that he has a right to Elain. This is him questioning the powers and forces that no one truly understands, this is him questioning from a place of heartbreak, wondering why, yet again, he was the one left behind. It happened when his father imprisoned him, forcing Azriel to delay in his training as an Illyrian, it happened when the female he spent centuries loving never once returned the same kind of love, and now it’s happening again. Azriel does not believe he deserves Elain—it goes against his character, because he is self-deprecating, does not think he truly deserves anything good and worthy. He is simply questioning why his choice doesn’t ever seem to matter, and why Elain is yet again left having her decisions being taken away from her.

Because the matter of choice is a prevalent, significant theme for the two of them. For Elain, she was never allowed to truly make a choice in her life. Her mother’s death, her family falling into poverty, turning into High Fae, losing Graysen, the mating bond, her father’s death—these were all huge, significant life changing moments that she had no say in and was forced to endure, completely upending who she was and how she lived. But there is one choice Elain can make, and that is to reject the mating bond with Lucien. There are so many examples throughout the books where Elain turns away from Lucien; she doesn’t express any interest in him—it’s like he doesn’t even exist to her. There is utter indifference on her end, despite any effort made by Lucien, and that in itself is Elain choosing to all but formally reject the bond, however that may come about. There is a moment in A Court of Wings and Ruin in chapter 54 when Elain, while pleading with Graysen, claims, “I belong to no one. My heart belongs to you” (498). Of course, Azriel has nothing to do with what Elain was saying at the time, but her declaration of this speaks to her character and how dearly she holds onto the idea of being with someone of her own choosing, with someone she loves. This can further be developed into the idea that although fate, the cauldron, the Mother may have chosen Lucien for Elain—a pairing that can, ultimately, be ill-chosen—Elain would not give it the time of day unless it’s what her heart wants. And from what we have seen so far, her heart wants Azriel. She chooses Azriel over Lucien, and that holds significant weight to her and, I imagine eventually, to Azriel as well.

Azriel, who has not been other people’s choice. Azriel, who was imprisoned by his own father, who was rejected by the Illyrians. Azriel, who has spent five centuries loving Mor, who will never love him the way he did her. And it’s saying something, isn’t it, that he has finally stopped yearning for her, and that it was Elain who he is enraptured by? Even Cassian noted that the way Azriel used to look at Mor have become few and far in between, telling the audience that the spymaster has finally begun to move on, or already has, from Mor. And Elain wanting to kiss Azriel confirms to him, in particular, that he is her choice as well. And she is his, as further confirmed when Azriel tells Rhys he has no problem engaging in the Blood Duel with Lucien if it means freeing Elain from a bond she doesn’t want, and allowing them both to dive into the choices they clearly want to make.

Truthfully, there are many examples throughout the books where I can talk about Elain rejecting Lucien. She cringed away from the very first time he touches her in ACOMAF—though, granted, it happens right after she comes out of the cauldron. She is unsettled when Lucien tugs on their bond, saying that it felt as though he pulled on a thread connecting to a rib, which sounds painful and nothing like the comforting bond readers have seen between Feyre and Rhys. Elain doesn’t buy Lucien any presents for solstice, and the first present he got her, gardening gloves to prevent her hands from tearing, are ones she doesn’t use. Because she would much rather feel her hands get torn up while she’s working in her garden, uncaring if they scar, which in turn is a reminder of Azriel’s scarred hands and how she found them beautiful. And for those who wonder about Azriel giving the necklace he got for Elain to Gwyn, it is important to note that he tells Clotho to give it to any priestess who would want it, and merely mentions Gwyn by name because he trained her, because he was the one who rescued her after an attack, and she is the one he knows most familiarly by name because of it. At the end of it, Azriel only wanted the necklace gone because he didn’t want to see it, didn’t want to remember that the female he wants, wants him back just as much, but he was all but forbidden to pursue her. Once again, a choice that was taken away from him, and giving the necklace away is far easier than keeping it and remembering how he couldn’t be with Elain. At least for now.

Throughout the novels, there are many symbols that hint towards Elain and Azriel being together, but that is a paper for another day. This one’s goal was to simply point out the many physical and emotional indicators of the way the two of them are drawn to one another, despite the obstacles that are thrown their way—the biggest one being the mating bond no one asked for. There is comfort in the relationship they have, an ease you wouldn’t expect someone with Elain’s light to find in Azriel’s darkness. He offers her comfort in shy smiles and soft looks, and Elain does the same for him, which we see in the act of his shadows disappearing around her. These very shadows provided him comfort when he needed them, were his friends in his prison, and them leaving him when Elain is around is a sign of the contentment Azriel feels, because he doesn’t have to protect himself in her presence. Azriel loved Mor, and it has been noted that he lights up when she is around, and Elain is the only other person he reacts similarly to—because Elain is who he wants now that he has moved on from Mor. It’s important, isn’t it, that Elain is who pulls Azriel away from the centuries-long love he’d been lost in? That she is who he looks for, thinks about, wonders after?

Elain has found comfort in Azriel’s darkness, and he has found peace in her light, and so how could they not defy what’s been expected of them and rewrite fate to fit the choices they make themselves?

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bittermuire · 3 years

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A (long) analysis of Azriel,

+ a bit of discussion about Gwynriel vs. Elriel at the end.

Lately I’ve seen much discussion surrounding Azriel, and there seems to be a lot of hazy gray area. We know he has a terrible past, carries a lot of trauma, is both mentally and physically scarred, and has disturbingly possessive habits. But why? That’s the question.

I think most of Azriel’s character can be filtered into three sections: his anger, his possessiveness, and his self-loathing. Altogether I believe these form his crippling sense of emotional immaturity, which ultimately shines through most every action he makes in the books.

So yes, I firmly believe Az is a child in the body of a 500 year old Fae. But is he treated as such? No. No, he is not. In fact, he’s treated as the exact opposite, and that can’t be doing wonders for his mental health (which is already in shambles. Off to a cheery start.)

Let’s take a look at his past. He was both mentally and physically abused for the majority of his childhood. Then he was thrown into an unforgiving culture that both mentally and physically abused him as well. Then he was essentially bullied by Cassian and Rhysand for quite a while... until they randomly decided to like him, which is a choice he didn’t seem to play a hand in. And then he became a professional torturer. All the while falling madly in love and becoming obsessed with a female who can’t love him back. Not to mention he’s been ostracized his entire life.

(One big thing though, that I’m going to reference frequently, is Azriel’s constant chase of “happiness.” Kind of like my friends with ADHD. We squeeze all the serotonin we can get out of one thing and then fall into a listless, depressed haze until we find another. I honestly think Azriel does the same thing with people--he latches onto them and lets his mood swings rely on how much attention they do or do not pay him, and whether it is positive or negative.)

So I’m going to go through his relationships with pivotal characters and try to explain what I think is really going on with Azriel.

Regarding Mor:

He was obsessed with her for most of his life. He was incredibly possessive of her and fell instantly in love upon seeing her. Do I think it was love? No. But does Azriel think it was love? Yes, and that is so important. It shows how desperate he was for human connection.

This “love” spiraled into centuries-long obsession that we’ve all seen play out throughout the series. But why is it obsession, and not love? Well, I’m going to go ahead and say that Azriel doesn’t know how to love. He’s never been shown genuine love and so he doesn’t know how to show it to others in the way he intends. He’s basically a baby.

But right after he falls head over heels, Mor sleeps with Cassian, and then Cassian plays the role of the buffer between the two of them all the way up until the events of ACOSF. This is where I think Azriel’s anger comes into play. He can’t get to Mor. His best friend, his brother, is blocking him from her. He can’t touch her, love her, feel her, and he’s so desperate to. But he literally has no way to communicate it because he doesn’t know how, and so he responds in the one way he’s able: anger. And jealousy. And intense protectiveness that eventually begins to translate as possessiveness.

Again, he lets his happiness rely on Mor because he can’t make himself happy, and so his lack of emotional maturity ends up revealing him as desperate and unable to communicate his feelings of inadequacy and frustration. I’m not trying to justify his behavior, not at all. But I think this could be a decent explanation.

Regarding Cassian and Rhysand:

I mean... I kind of hate the way these two have treated Azriel. They all have their fair share of trauma, but Cassian and Rhys also bullied him and ostracized him, and then basically said, “Oh, we like you now.” Which completely leaves Azriel in the dark as to where he stands with them, and strips him of awareness regarding how his friendships with them will operate.

And then he becomes the head of espionage for the Night Court, which involves lots and lots of torture. What kind of message does that send? You’ve seen dirty things, Az, so you don’t mind doing the rest of the dirty things for us, right? That’s the only real message I can get from this. Which then plants the message in Azriel’s head of: Not only do I do dirty things, I myself am a dirty, disgusting thing. Thus, furthering his already deep-seated sense of self-loathing.

Plus, the IC generally operates with a pack-like mindset. One person’s method of healing is everyone’s method of healing. It worked for one person, so it worked for everyone. It’s a very naive mindset, and very toxic as well, so it’s not surprising that literally everyone in the IC is colossally messed up despite preaching themselves as having overcome their demons.

So Azriel never really gets to understand himself and mature as a person. He’s stuck pretending to be perfectly fine underneath Rhysand’s oh-so-benevolent and compassionate hand. Rhysand and Cassian recognize Az as being a little... odd, by seeming to think things like “he’s the quiet one” and “he’s the serious, scary one.” But do they attempt to understand him? No. They leave him to his own devices and let him figure it out himself.

That’s the issue. He’s not ever going to figure it out himself, so long as he’s surrounded by the people who’ve been unwittingly suffocating him for most of his life.

Regarding Elain:

Azriel’s infatuation with Elain, in my opinion, comes as a direct result of his detachment from Mor. Just like one hyperfixation fades quickly from an all-consuming thing to a passing thought, Azriel has shifted from one obsession to the next, in order to keep his spirits on a high.

But I think his feelings for Elain reveal a lot of what Mor did not. Why does he view Elain as so holy compared to him? Why is he so hesitant to touch her? Why does he put her on such a pedestal? That’s his self-loathing coming through again. He hates himself so much that he has to place her above him.

He wants to touch her and love her, just as he did with Mor, but again he is unable. It's a repeating pattern that he can’t get himself out of.

Let’s also look at the way Elain and Azriel’s friendship/relationship began. He had to take care of her, and treat her with utmost respect. She looked at his scars or his siphons, both monstrous looking things, and called them beautiful. Let’s remember that he’s basically a child who’s rarely known genuine love. The minute he gets a glimpse of it, he’s going to grab it by the neck and crush it to his chest. Plus, the fact that she’s the last sister left unattached and he’s the last brother left unattached is probably even more convincing for him that he and Elain are meant for each other. When he’s denied this love that’s come nearly close enough to grab, he responds in the only way he’s able: anger. And jealousy. Just like he did with Mor.

But moving on, that glimpse of potential love comes from Elain. That’s why he’s able to let go of Mor; a relationship with Elain suddenly becomes possible. He’s terrified of ruining this potential love and is incredibly drawn to her all the same. Best of all? She wants him too.

BUT. Azriel knows how fragile Elain is, so he walks on glass around her, coddling her, putting her first like he’s put everyone else first since being a part of the IC. I think he wants to save her from becoming like him. He essentially plays the role of her white knight, entirely losing his sense of self-preservation (not that he ever had one), and thus loses any chance of letting Elain help him mature in return.

Regarding Gwyn:

Now, Gwyn is a different story.

We know Azriel likes her. Maybe not in a consciously romantic way, but he likes her. She makes him smile and laugh, and he finds her amusing. He doesn’t have to walk on eggshells around her.

The big thing, I think, is that he doesn’t have to take care of her. At least, I think that’s what makes him so comfortable around her. With Gwyn, he can relax, and he doesn’t have to watch every move he makes. She treats him like a regular person and he treats her similarly.

Now, is it a bad thing that he doesn’t put her on a saint-like pedestal like he does Elain? No. Definitely not. I think this ordinary friendship signals a much healthier relationship than his festering obsession with Elain. Gwyn simply being his friend and not someone that he feels he has to be perfect for is a good foundation for Azriel growing as a person.

Gwynriel vs. Elriel (the necklace):

Honestly, I’m scared for whatever SJM decides to do, because Azriel has a shitload of trauma to move past and years worth of emotional growth needed before he can be a steady partner in a relationship. Both Gwyn and Elain’s character arcs are definitely not finished and so I think that no matter which way his narrative goes, it’s going to be disappointing in some aspect or another, unfortunately. I don’t think that either one of the females’ arcs really fit well with Azriel’s.

But I’m going to take a closer look at the necklace, because I think it’s a telling narrative point.

For Azriel, the necklace for Elain and Gwyn herself, are both “thing[s] of secret, lovely beauty” to him.

By describing the necklace for Elain as such (instead of Elain herself), Azriel unconsciously reveals his more idealistic view of Elain rather than his love for Elain herself. I kind of get the sense of Azriel giving offerings to a goddess, or something like that. He seems to be more preoccupied with appeasing Elain than actually loving her.

Now, this probably comes from, again, his self-loathing and his emotional immaturity. I’m just repeating myself at this point. He doesn’t know how to love himself and he doesn’t know how to love anyone else.

But then he describes Gwyn as such. Gwyn, the person. In my opinion, this demonstrates a potentially much healthier relationship than what he has with Elain. Azriel, instead of wanting to be perfect for Gwyn and wanting to appease her, is simply made happy by the thought of her. It is Gwyn whom he is taken with, not the idea of Gwyn loving him. And so that takes off so much pressure for him, and introduces the hope that he might be able to mature as a person in a friendship or romantic relationship with Gwyn.

Closing thoughts:

Azriel is a blundering, hormonal child desperate for love with no idea of how to get it, in a 500 year old Fae’s body. He’s also surrounded by people who refuse to address his clear issues... his future’s pretty dim, and I think he realizes it. Which is why whoever SJM chooses to be his romantic interest is going to be very important.

In short, I’m scared for what’s to come. But fingers crossed that his incredibly complex character is done justice.

#azriel #acotar #character analysis #gwynriel #kind of anti elriel #but open to interpretation

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bookofmirth · 3 years

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I’m going on anon cause I don’t need to be attacked by the insanity of this fandom, but I gotta say “what if the cauldron was wrong?” has the same vibes as Tamlin telling the KoH to break feysand’s mating bond because Feyre was his. Like for people not to see these parallels is just mind boggling to me. No wonder Rhys was quick to shut that crap down. I don’t think Azriel will turn into Tamlin, but I think SJM is setting him up to parallel his story, but as a way to say “hey this could have been Tamlin’s resolution with a HEA too had he not pushed his support system away and gave into his trauma and despair.” Tamlin is just the cautionary tale for Azriel’s journey imo.

Okay I love you for pointing this out, you’re amazing, I never really thought about it but YEAH???

It has big end of acomaf vibes which we all know is CRINGE. Here is what the KoH said when they found out that feysand were mates:

“I don’t believe it. Your bride left you only to find her mate. The Mother has a warped sense of humor, it seems.”

The mating bond is talked about as a joke here, like it exists just to spite Tamlin, even though we know that feysand is supposed to be #mate goals in the series (at least to that point).

Here is what Tamlin said a bit later:

Tamlin said flatly to the king, “Let them go, break her bond, and let’s be done with it. Her sisters come with us. You’ve already crossed too many lines.”

some stuff blah blah doesn’t matter

(To Rhys) “I don’t give a shit if she’s your mate. I don’t give a shit if you think you’re entitled to her. She is mine, and one day, I am going to repay every bit of pain she felt, every bit of suffering and despair. One day, perhaps when she decides she wants to end you, I’ll be happy to oblige her.”

No wonder Rhys was horrified at the idea of Azriel laying some claim to Elain just because he thinks that he is more “worthy” than Lucien, or that the Cauldron was wrong. Because yeah, we’ve seen that story before. And we know how it turned out. People who don’t take a mating bond seriously tend to underestimate it, not to mention wield its breaking like some sort of power move.

That last bit you said is me 100%, I don’t think that Azriel will get to the point where Tamlin is in that scene but the mood of that scene is certainly there. There’s a frustration, a despair, and maybe it originated in genuine feelings for Feyre, but that’s not where it ended up.

Tamlin is afraid of losing Feyre. Azriel is afraid of never finding his mate, and frustrated that Lucien and Elain, who have found theirs, haven’t taken advantage of what he desperately wants.

One of the big differences is that Tamlin had no one to stop him in that scene. There were no checks on his power or his temper because he’s a High Lord. He is used to his word being law, and then Feyre is “taken” by Rhys, followed by the Cauldron or the Mother or whatever making her Rhys’s mate?? He’s lost control and he’s clawing to get it back.

Azriel may have that anger and that entitlement borne from loneliness rather than loss of control (though I do think that control is part of it), but ultimately he respects Rhys, despite recent events, and Rhys was there in the Az scene to put his actions into perspective. Tamlin never had that. He didn’t have anyone who could challenge his behavior in a constructive way, let alone a loving way. Lucien likely tried, but Tamlin was never meant to be a High Lord and he’s never had a court like the IC to keep him (somewhat) humble. Rhys and Cassian are going to be the people who keep Azriel from going over the edge that Tamlin went over in acomaf.

#acosf #tamlin #acotar #azriel #ask #yeah I'm going to keep comparing them #anon

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arinbelle · 3 years

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A random thought came to me, and I apologize if anyone’s already made this point, I’m sure ppl have because ACOSF has been out for a while now, but I haven’t seen it mentioned or discussed and because I am now 🌟 irritated🌟, I’m going to rant.

So we know the Blood Duel exists and we know that Rhys didn’t want to risk Lucien seeing Azriel and Elain and possibly challenging Az to a Blood Duel, causing problems with the Autumn Court should Lucien die (because apparently Azriel would win...at least he thinks he would, which, good for him I guess).

But I realized why I am so bothered by this. No one considered Elain in this entire situation. I may not ship Elriel, but Elain was into it okay? She wanted Azriel to kiss her AND she gave him verbal permission to keep going. So, then Rhys is basically saying, ignoring the fact that Elain is very much for Elriel (at the moment), just in case her mate who she doesn’t talk to and seems to avoid all the time (canon-wise) sees, we don’t want him challenging Azriel to a Blood Duel.

Which is kinda sexist as a practice itself if it’s being used for things like this. Like when Azriel wanted to do it because Mor was left alone by Eris, that seemed valid because it was a “you betrayed us” kinda duel. But...”you kissed my mate who hasn’t expressed any interest in me and it was consensual both ways but I don’t care so I’m going to incite a Blood Duel in the name of a woman who doesn’t actually need any saving,”...just doesn’t sit right with me.

One, because it takes away from Elain’s agency as a person who wants what she wants and makes decisions that are respected. Like she wanted Azrel to kiss her. I don’t need to be an Elriel shipper to see what is canon so far.

Second, I REFUSE to believe that after everything Lucien lost with Feyre’s friendship because he didn’t do as much for her when she was with Tamlin, after everything, after the “No my lady I do not,” I REFUSE TO BELIEVE that Lucien feels any sort of ownership or claim on Elain outside of the mating bond urges that are like “mine, mine, mine.” And he never acts on those and we also see him telling himself to snap out of it in ACOWAR.

In fact...Azriel could take some notes in not seeing Elain as someone for him to claim as his own or believe he deserves out of default...just saying.

#elain archeron #acosf #acotar #Azriel #lucien vanserra

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mrspettyferr · 3 years

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Blood Duel Theory

There's been a lot of speculation on who will fight in the Blood Duel, assuming we will see one. I think its likely we will, because that was a very specific thing to name drop.

When looking at who will participate, I think we have to consider a few things:

An Autumn Court member has to invoke it - Beron, Lucien, or Eris

What is their reason for invoking it?

How is this relevant to the overarching Koschei/queen plot?

How does this tie to Elain, since this will be her book?

When I consider these things, only one ties into the overarching plot and Elain: Lucien and Azriel.

This means Lucien would need to invoke it. That seems unlikely, right? Well, that depends on what you're considering as the motive. It seems unlikely Elain would stab a king, doesn't it? But when her motive is to protect her sister and save the world, it's not so unlikely.

The motive people are considering for this Blood Duel is a fight over Elain, because that's how it's presented in Azriel's pov. That won't be the motive, imo. Because that's just not Lucien. He will respect whatever decision Elain makes, as he's been doing all along.

So what/who would force Lucien's hand?

Beron and Koschei

And why would Beron do that? What's his motive?

What Koschei offers him

What's Koschei's motive?

Getting rid of Azriel

Why does he want to get rid of Azriel?

Because the fourth Trove item is veiled in shadows. Because he was "preparing" for Azriel. Because Az's powers are unique and mysterious and could play a role in finding Koschei's box and ultimately discovering the secret to defeating him.

How would Beron/Koschei force Lucien's hand?

The same way someone could force Rhys's hand in this situation--threaten someone he loves. Koschei holds the strings to Vassa. He might need her alive, but he could make her suffer. Beron could also threaten to have Elain killed, or Feyre, or Jurian, or Lucien's mother--anyone Lucien cares about.

How does this tie to Elain?

Because Elain has seen Koschei's box and already volunteered to go after the Fourth Trove item. But no matter what she's seen, she cannot retrieve these items without Azriel. Az is the key.

So as satisfying as it would be to see Beron killed in the Blood Duel, I think he's too much a coward to invoke one against anyone, and I keep going back to Elain, Koschei, and the queens. Motive and plot relevance.

Do I think Lucien and Azriel will literally duel to the death? No. They might even work together and make a huge spectacle and use it as a distraction while others sneak/look for something, like Rhys and Feyre did with their display in the Court of Nightmares in ACOMAF.

But I truly don't think we'll get a Blood Duel that at it's essence, is two males fighting for a female. I think it will serve the overarching plot, and with Azriel being such a threat to Koschei, it seems a good way to try to take him out.

#elriel #elain x azriel

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kingandfireheart · 3 years

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What is it that you want, Elain?

Summary: This story is about Elain and Azriel talking about the events of the bonus scene and Elain processing her progress in the Night Court. There isn't much resolution, but it was fun to get into Elain's head for a little.

Words: 2,500ish

My money would be on you happens before this - if you're interested in seeing Azriel processing.

Elain walked on to the verdana of the House of Wind. Nesta and Cassian had insisted on hosting their weekly “family dinner” after returning from their honeymoon. She enjoyed the dinner and conversation, relaxed to see her sisters together and safe. For a long time, Elain had mourned her loss of home, her humanness, but in the last year, she had begun to embrace the fact that her sisters were happy.

Feyre had found her place in the Night Court before Elain had even become High Fae. She had Rhysand, she had Mor’s friendship, and she had her role as High Lady. Nesta took considerably longer to warm up to their new home, but she too had a place - she had friends now - the Illyrian female, and one of the priestesses, a role in the court as a Valkyrie and emissary, and love with Cassian. Elain felt a small pang of envy for what her sisters had. She had befriended Nuala and Cerrdiwen, she passed her time gardening throughout Velaris, and she enjoyed being with the odd family that was the Night Court’s inner circle. Still, Elain felt that something was missing, which had brought her onto the verdana, away from the loud conversations in the family room.

She always loved this view of Velaris. So far up from the city, she felt like her problems may just disappear. Elain also enjoyed the cool breeze of a spring night - she hadn’t brought a coat after spending the day in the sun, but the way the wind bit into her was freeing and calming. She sat down on a bench that Nesta must have added recently, and as if the house had anticipated her needs, a cup of tea had appeared next to her. “Thank you,” she said to the House. Nesta had explained that the house is somewhat responsive to commands, and she didn't want to be rude.

When she had excused herself from the dining room, dinner had devolved into discussing the Autumn Court. Cassian had said “Compared to Eris, Lucien is a saint, loveable even.” Adding, “If you’re into courtiers with a stick up their ass, that is” he said. Nesta had elbowed him for that, clearly knowing that Elain was trying to not look uncomfortable.

Feyre was retelling stories about the Spring Court, which strongly featured her mate who wasn’t her mate, Lucien. Elain had slipped out of the room when Feyre started telling the story about how Tamlin had pushed him into a reflecting pool after Lucien had convinced her to eat some berries that caused hallucinations. She'd heard Lucien and Feyre laughing about it one too many times in the year she had spent in Velaris.

Elain heard steps approaching her, bringing her back to the present. Deliberate steps, since everyone had mastered moving silently, without detection. A deep breath in revealed it was Azriel. Night chilled mist and cedar. That too was deliberate - so as not to startle her of his approach. She turned to find Azriel, predictably clad in his leathers with some shadows swirling around him.

While most family dinners were casual in the state of dress, she rarely saw Azriel or Cassian in anything but their leathers. All three of the brothers had a preference for wearing black at all times - and she couldn’t really fault them. While black seemed to drown out Elain’s features, the Illyrians looked exquisite in black, it brought our their coloring, their ridiculously beautiful features, and their hazel (and in Rhys case, violet) eyes.

That being said, she couldn’t remember the last time she saw any of them wearing a different color, aside from Cassian and Azirel’s siphons. Crimson and Cobalt respectively. She had seen a painting in Feyre’s studio of Azriel’s cobalt siphons against his scarred hands. She always thought they were beautiful, told him as much when she first arrived in Velaris. When she was human, she thought they were ornamental - like jewelry, but then she saw them in use. Azriel had explained that they were ways to channel their otherwise lethal power. That Cobalt power had saved her life from kidnapping, had shielded her from the wind while flying, and patched up a very injured Cassian during the war.

The cold of the wind calmed as she saw Azriel’s blue shields pop up around them. “It’s cold out here”, he stated in his midnight voice that was enough to make strangers swoon. She had seen it in action when she gone to watch Nesta, Feyre, and the priestesses train. The priestesses sighed when he had demonstrated how to shoot an Illyrian bow. Even after all of these months, the effect was not lost on her.

She hadn’t been alone with Azriel since Solstice - they had been keeping their distance for months now. There was something there - some kind of tension, or a pull, but Elain couldn’t quite explain it. She thought she understood on Solstice when he nearly kissed her, but then he pulled away, claiming it was a mistake before disappearing into the shadows. Ever since, their friendship had become polite and cordial, but never more than exchanging pleasantries.

She had learned from watching Azriel that every movement was intentional, and fluid, and graceful. He was predictable and consistent, but still she couldn’t keep herself from watching as he closed the distance between them.

“Are you alright? ”, Azriel asked.

She moved to make room for Azriel on the bench. “I just needed some fresh air to clear my head.” she explained.

“Ah. They can be a lot on a good day, much worse when Cassian breaks out the good wine.” He said, sitting as far away as he possibly could, while folding in his wings. A cup had popped between them, but this one was half full. He picked up the cup and chuckled after taking a sip. She was willing to bet that the contents of the cup was a hell of a lot stronger than her tea.

“It’s not that. I just...” She hesitated, not sure if she was willing to change their current no-depth-relationship. “I haven’t seen Nesta this happy in my whole life. I’m happy for them, It’s just strange.” She half- lied, she knew his shadows would pick up on it, as they likely picked up on the exact moment she had left the room. It was strange, watching Nesta brush Cassian’s hair out of his face, or the way that she laughed at his jokes, or leaned into his chest when they sat next to each other. It was strange to see her sister so unguarded, so comfortable in this new life.

“I could say the same for my brothers.” He said before taking a sip from the cup in his hand. Azriel was usually aloof and distant, rarely letting his emotions show. But something shifted in that cool, beautiful mask of his. “That doesn’t explain why you’re out here on a cold night. Cassian would say to leave the lonely brooding bullshit to me, Elain” He chuckled softly. She loved that sound. His laugh, her name on his lips. She felt her cheeks warm, just slightly and she looked away.

Elain took a deep breath, and an ever deeper sip of her tea. She was nervous. She was nervous about how she felt. She was nervous about letting Azriel in, after she had felt so hurt by his rejection on Solstice. Still, she said what she had been refusing to admit to herself for months now. “I know it sounds petty, but I’m a little jealous.”

“Of Cassian?” He asked incredulously. Again that mask slipped, just slightly as a shadow curled around his shoulders.

“Of their… happiness. I guess. Nesta has Cassian, and Feyre has Rhysand, and I’m just…” She stopped herself. She couldn’t say alone, even though she had probably said too much already. “I know, it’s petty.” Azriel leaned just slightly closer, but wouldn’t meet her eyes.

"I don’t think it’s petty. I understand.” He said softly. He did understand, because he had lived with Rhys and Feyre and Cassian and Nesta after they had accepted their bonds. Part of her hoped it was jealousy - that he hadn’t meant what he had said on Solstice night, that him avoiding her wasn’t personal, that the reason he hadn’t met her gaze when flying her to the House, or the fact that he could not get away fast enough the second he had set her down, meant something. Part of her hoped that he was as jealous of his brothers as she was of her sisters. How funny the six of them would be - three Illyrian warriors, and three Made high fae.

“But, you do have a mate.” he added tightly, as if he was forcing the words out. His wings flared just slightly. A sign of unchecked emotion, if her year of observation was right. She just couldn’t decipher which emotion. Azriel's demeanor was a puzzle she hadn't quite figured out, but she did love trying. Azriel had never mentioned Lucien outside of his role in the courts, he had never pushed her to talk about the bond, had never insinuated she was Lucien's in any way.

She couldn’t stop herself. “That’s not - I don’t want that.” Leaving the rest unsaid, I don’t want Lucien. It was instinct now, to fight the bond. She hadn’t outright rejected it because of the look on Feyre’s face whenever Lucien was in the room, hope. The fact that the mating bond had chosen so well for her sisters.

She could feel Azriel’s gaze on her, could feel his wings, just inches from her shoulder. She knew he wouldn’t touch her - knew that Illyrian wings were sacred and intimate, and that even an intentional brush would mean much more than holding hands, or even a kiss on the cheek. Still, she leaned a little closer to him.

“What is it that you want, Elain?” Her heart jumped at that tone, the softness there, the mention of her name. He set down his now empty cup, and looked at her. The shadows had deepened around him, swirling off of his legs and by her skirts. She looked out onto the view of the city to keep herself from saying the first thing that came to mind: You. She took a breath and made herself look into his hazel eyes - the emeralds standing out in the moonlight.

“Love.” she said quietly enough that he may not have heard her if he hadn’t shielded out the wind. He kept looking at her with that intent but soft gaze she had rarely seen before and had come to savor. Her throat bobbed, but she forced out the words, "I want to be able to choose love." As soon as she said it, she expected him to slip into the shadows, or jump of the verdana. It had happened before - Azriel had a habit of slipping away when things got uncomfortable, but he stayed there, staring at her after she had made such a big confession.

Dangerous. This was dangerous, she reminded herself. Still, she couldn't help but embrace a little bit of danger. “What do you want, Azriel?” She heard herself say. It felt odd to say his name. Not Az, or shadowsinger, as the Amren often called him. There was weight in these words - Azriel was the most aloof member of the Inner Circle, and the least likely to open up, but since he hadn't slipped away just yet...

Azriel tensed only slightly. If she hadn't made a habit of watching him so closely, she wouldn't have noticed. A shadow curled around his ear, as if whispering something. She watched him, knowing full well Azriel was capable of not answering, or holding out for much longer than she was.

“The same thing as you.” He finally confessed, or at least it sounded like a confession - like something else was in those words - longing, pain, desire, guilt?

They stared at each other a long moment - it may have been the first time Azriel’s eye’s were completely unguarded. What she saw there - she wasn’t ready for, it was dangerous, and reckless, and tens kinds of stupid to act on. She did have a mate, who was a perfectly fine male - and they had implicitly decided to take time before dealing with whatever the bond meant. Elain straightened her back, trying to put some distance between them, without closing off this conversation, this connection.

Where did you run off too, Feyre said in her head. I’m sorry I brought up Lucien. Azriel seemed to shift too, as if he too was having a mental conversation with one of the daemati.

Coming she said in her head.

"We should head back in.” She said. They both stood, and Azriel’s icy mask returnEd as if he had just remarked on the weather.

“Thank you.” Elain said, allowing her hand to brush against his, just slightly. “For checking in on me. For being my friend.” She wanted the last word here. She needed to define what this was in un-dangerous terms, to keep him from avoiding her next time, from reading into her why she had pulled away, and to keep herself from kissing his cheek, from wanting more than she ever had a right to ask of him.

He gave her a polite but bland smile that did not reach his eyes. “Don't thank me. That’s what friends are for, right?” He raised his hand as if to cup her cheek, but seemed to reconsider, driving his hands into his pockets.

He dropped his shield of blue and walked back toward the house, as silent and graceful as ever. She was stunned, completely stunned. Azriel had always had that effect on her - taking away her capacity for speech and rational thought.

She gathered the tea cups, using the excuse to take a minute to collect herself before returning to the family room. She sniffed at Azriel’s cup - it most certainly wasn’t tea. Laughing to herself, she walked back into the family room, settling on a sofa between Mor and Rhys . Azriel had already joined Nesta and Feyre on the sofa across from them, holding Nyx as he stretched his tiny wings. Elain's heart fluttered at the sight.

Rhys’s gaze seemed to dart between her and Azriel, but before he could say anything, Mor looked at her, with a conspirators smile. “Next time you want to escape the couples, take me with you instead. I’m way more fun! ” Elain just laughed, nudging Mor with her shoulder.

Azriel chuckled softly from his corner and gave her another smile. This time, Elain returned one of her own.

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