Archive of Our Own

Silence. That was all that followed her these days. Not the comforting silence that came from loved ones – that sense of resigned completion where no words were needed regardless of your surroundings. No. This was an all-encompassing solitude that left Elain destitute and barren in a way she hadn’t felt since that fateful day, trapped within the inky, fathomless depths of the Cauldron. No amount of distractions could tear away the truth of what ate her up inside. The gardens were a welcome reprieve, a mask to those around her watching as she made the world blossom before their eyes while inside, she was slowly withering away. “This was a mistake.” Those words echoed in her mind, whispering their taunting mantra as the moment replayed over and over again. She’d trusted him, cared for him in a way she never thought she could, never imagined wanting again after all she’d been through… an ache of longing that made what she thought she felt for Graysen nothing more than a bead of sand amongst a vast, forgotten beach. He’d made her feel seen. At her worst, he was always there. A shadow prepared to strike, a wraith in the night, her savior. Azriel. He’d opened her eyes when the world had been blind. When even her sisters had lost faith that there was anything left of her. When every waking moment had felt like stepping through a suffocating fog with no exit in sight. He’d been there. Every step of the way. Perhaps that was what truly stung the most. Beyond the refusal, beyond the rejection, beyond the emptiness in those glorious hazel eyes as the resonance of such dreadful words left his lips; it was spending every waking moment watching him turn away from her. What had once been silent glances across stairwells, lingering touches exchanged between the narrow passages of a hall, the amplified tension of seeing those brooding, chiseled features showcase just a flicker of a smile across the dining table before tightening into subdued indifference – were now lost. He’d seen her once - the only one who had truly viewed and understood the depths and desires of her soul where others only saw what they expected of her – but he would not now.

With trepidation resonating in her every step, Elain trudged down the staircase leaving a trail of cobalt gossamer in her wake. The nightgown would have been a thin, shapeless thing on any other but on Elain, the shimmering silk became a masterpiece of knitted lace trim and draped edges that flowed over her delicate curves as though it were created solely for her. A beauty unlike any their world had ever known, a rare gem even the fae could not ignore, and yet all that whispered in her heart was the reminder that she was unwanted. Every choice she had ever made for herself found a way to slip between her fingers. How she lived her life and how she wanted to live, truly live, were so vastly separated that there was no differentiating the two when it came to accepting what lay before her. Reality and waking dreams. But Azriel… Azriel was a dream that she wanted to relish in, could bury herself in if only for those stolen moments that had set her heart on fire and made her feel. Yet the reality… Elain halted with a start, fingers clenching around the hem of her modest gown when those fiery locks of crimson came into view. As those deep, russet orbs bore into the widened pearls of chocolate brown, Elain could feel herself shrinking back against the wall. Of course she’d forgotten he was here. She often fought and failed to ignore the elder’s presence when the male made his way into the Night Court. The reminder of all she’d lost in her previous life as well as this one – Lucien. He was a handsome male, charming in a way that most would no doubt rejoice to even be within his presence let alone to be perceived as an object of interest before his eyes. A male who beheld an elegance that was nothing like the rugged rawness of the Illyrians. The type of person whom, in another life, would have been precisely the kind of being Elain would have been expected to marry. And in another world, maybe she would have. But as she took in the High Fae’s ethereal features, the otherworldly beauty that transcended the brutal scar marring the regal planes of his face, she felt nothing - absolute emptiness where there should have been wonder, joy, excitement… love. “Apologies for frightening you, my lady,” The words were soft amongst the dead of the night, a courteous bow charged in her direction though the verse seemed as hollow as she felt. “I wasn’t aware that I would be having company tonight. Please, sit.”

Elain stood her ground, refusing to move an inch as those weary eyes drank her in. There was something charged in that look, how she so desperately wished that the eyes of another were the ones peering back at her, that sparked resolution within the Made fae. Keeping a wide berth between herself and the emissary, Elain smoothed down the fabric of her gown to take her place on the couch, the action miniscule yet there was an unparalleled grace behind it. With a brief glance towards her mate – just the word made her cower further into herself – rosy lips parted to profess what she could no longer deny. “Lucien,” she began, unable to read the spark of gold that flashed in his eyes as his name filled the room.

“I believe that’s the first I’ve ever heard my name spoken from your lips,” He chimed before she could say more; a low, rumbling chuckle following as his eyes fell shut. “Such a bittersweet thing. I had hoped to someday hear it but never did I imagine it would be with unbridled sadness.” Those burning eyes opened once more to peer down at her taking in the way she sat coiled around herself; a barrier he’d never been welcome to cross and one she would not relinquish now.

Taking in another calming breath, consciously ignoring his claim, Elain attempted a second time to voice her resolve. “I never wanted this… I… I never asked for this. This life, this body, a-“ Fierce brown eyes glanced upon the male with apprehension, hating how the word still stung against her tongue. A mate. A bond that only served as a reminder of her lost humanity and the existence that continued to feel like one that was never fully her own. Yet she refused to cry, refused to shed a single tear before Lucien: not only in respect for herself and the choices she wished to make but in knowing that making this decision, this critical moment, would hurt him far more than it would her. Regardless of whether or not he too had come to terms with the knowledge that she would never be able to return his claim, would never accept a life and a love chosen for her by the Cauldron, the pain would remain. A blessing they’d said… But all she felt was another weight holding her back from herself. They would never have the blissful romance that Feyre and Rhysand had found, the wild, sweeping passion of Nesta and Cassian... They would only ever be this and neither of them deserved the misfortune of being chained to one another, bound by that single thread that made him believe he had a right to her time, her presence, her being. A right that, as of late, faltered into an obligation in her eyes. She didn't know much about the Fae, of their world, but she knew from her sisters what it meant to be mated, what it should have meant for her. It did not.

Love. Love was the one thing that held Elain together. The singular reminder that all she was and all she could be had not been completely lost to the Cauldron. It was what fueled her every action, kept her going from day to day, and brought forth the brightness that radiated from her being like streams of sunlight. It was the one thing she would not have chosen for her.

“Release me…” The words were a wisp between them, gaze faltering for only a moment as she tightened her grip on the gown, the willowy fabric bunching up beneath the white of her knuckles. “If you ever once believed yourself to have cared for me, truly, then release me – release us. Feyre claims you are a good male. Of that I can believe she speaks the truth. You’ve been… kind. But I cannot accept you. I cannot spend what is to be the eternity of my life to someone I do not love, someone I do not wish to know.” A single, forgotten tear trickled freely down her pale cheek, halting just before it could come crashing down upon her tense palms. No tears. She had promised herself and yet again the choice evaded her.

Lucien remained silent, watching with an unreadable expression upon his face that made her wonder if he’d been listening at all or was merely stunned by the confession. The stillness of it was unnerving, only the meager rise and fall of his chest alerting her that he was, in fact, still present. Rage. A flaming inferno encompassing the autumn fae had her easing back from his being before settling upon the sorrow reflected back upon her within the amber orb, and what she could only interpret as wounded relief. “I can’t say I expected anything less. For a time I’d hoped that you would someday come to accept me. That we could have shared in the happiness all fae children grew to dream of. Perhaps to even have children of our own. For us, the bond is revered. Finding a mate… My mate…” The words were like a gentle caress from Lucien’s lips despite the void they left in the air. “I thought it would change everything. I know what it’s like to be chosen, Elain. She had chosen me. She loved me… As I loved her.” Feyre had once mentioned, only briefly, of Lucien’s past despair. An attempt to get the brunette to better understand the male and the agony he bore but it wasn’t until now that Elain could recall the tale and the name associated with it. Jesminda. “There will forever be a place in my heart which only she can fill. As foolish as you may think me to be, I am wise enough to know when I am not wanted. I’ve known it long before you came into my world. I have survived it then and I will continue to do so.” He gave her a withering smile, one that went beyond his pride or station – a reassurance that if nothing else came from this, he would respect her decision. The greatest gift he could have ever given to her.

The pain would come. When and how strongly was a factor Elain did not wish to acknowledge as she whispered her gratitude to the male who swiftly departed the river house despite Rhys’ initial invitation to stay. There would undoubtedly be questions to follow in the morning once the High Lord took note of his guest’s absence but distance was the only reprieve Lucien offered for the both of them – space to heal while the untethering began and time to acknowledge what they both desired most. But she couldn’t stay there, not when his scent still dawdled in the space between and her mind raced with hope for the future. A future she’d finally begun to make her own.

Coat tugged firmly over her lithe form, Elain strolled amidst the darkness, trailing along the shore of the Sidra completely transfixed on the calming waters in an effort to ease the turmoil that still raged within her. It was not pity or regret she felt as she stopped before the glistening waters, watching the speckles of stars reflected upon the horizon. It was fear and hope, colliding within like fanged beasts fighting for dominance. This was only the beginning, the beginning of everything. To shed away the expectations, the decrees, the politics, and start that journey anew… Could she truly do it? Was it not herself she was fighting for? A life that had been stolen, her life, and now she was taking it all back one breath at a time - a paved path that only she could follow.

A glint within the corner of her vision startled the beauty. It could have been a figment of her imagination, a mere memory projected before her yet there was something unnatural about the twine of darkness that shouldn’t have been there. A shadow. His shadow. The darkness moved, wound and unfurling from a distance, observing like obedient hounds waiting to be called by their master, or possibly placid pups eager to be rewarded. And it was then that her heart came to an abrupt stutter. Her lungs cried out in protest as that heady aroma of night-chilled mist and fragrant cedar filled her senses. “Elain.” The stern tenderness in that voice, smooth as velvet despite the tension that arose with it. Elain dismissed the call, telling herself it was only in her head, a figment of her mind torturing her at her most vulnerable. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as she clung to the seams of her coat though it did nothing to warm the chill that had nestled over her being. “Elain.”

“I’d ask how you found me but I know better. Nothing ever escapes the great Spymaster.” He had found her once before, back when she had been so foolish and blinded by love for a man that did not want her that she strolled straight into Hybern’s camp and into the clutches of their enemy – the very man responsible for what she had become. Elain fully anticipated that her final days would be there, trapped within that camp and tortured by the distressed screams of its inhabitants until she too would be forced to join the unholy serenade. But he had come for her, had somehow heard her silent pleas and refused to let her go even as they’d reached the sanctity of their outpost. Battered and bruised he had cradled her, so close that the stammer of his heartbeat became a comfort – a battle drum steadying her amidst the horrors they’d faced below.

“What are you doing out here alone?” The warmth of his body grew more apparent alongside every second that passed between them. “Do you have any idea what time it is? Are you hurt?” With each probing question, another step. Elain refused to answer, though her gaze slowly lifted to meet the darkened hazel with a hitch. Azriel was every bit as breathtaking as he had been that night. Amidst the darkness, his golden complexion shined, complementing the soothing aura of night while her eyes fluttered back and forth to take him all in for fear that that if she blinked, he would disappear like the shadows that so often accompanied him.

She said nothing, let the silence speak for itself afraid of what might come forth if her voice somehow managed to find itself. It was deafening, the precarious balance between them. Never had Elain felt as though the fae was someone to turn away from, someone to fear despite the intimidating stature he carried. And yet it appeared as though the two were squared off against one another, neither willing to make the first move at the risk of frightening the other. But Elain was not afraid, she couldn’t be. “You haven’t been resting,” An observation rather than a query as her eyes lingered on the slightly darkened crevices that edged the golden flecked orbs, nearly indistinguishable from the usual dusk that encompassed the male unless one was willing to look. And Elain never stopped looking, even as her heart shattered with longing. “I suppose I’m not the only one who’s had trouble sleeping these days... It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Elain turned to face the shores of the river, watching in wonder as streams of moonlight set the waters aglow with wondrous illumination, drawing a resigned smile to her lips to be able to view such a glorious site with Azriel at her side. It wasn’t in the way she wanted, how she’d ever imagined sharing such moments with the Illyrian, but if this was all she’d be privy to now – careful movements from a distance, a silent statue in place of the raucous laughter that brightened any room with its alarming vigor – she could make do. At least, that’s what she’d told herself as a hand caught her attention from the corner of her eyes. Flesh gnarled beyond reason for a fae, scarred in a way that had the young woman often wishing she could take away the memory of whatever horrors Azriel must have faced to be left with such permanent reminders of the world’s cruelties. She’d seen him recover from shredded wings, clawed incisions, ash arrows… And yet those hands… Given how often she’d caught him trying to deter any drifting glances, it was easy to surmise how he must have felt about them. But in her eyes they were every bit as beautiful as they’d been that fateful day he held out his hand and showed her there could more to life, something to live for, beyond the Cauldron’s grasp.

The feel of them against her body, that fleeting brush of skin against her neck had been so brief, yet she couldn’t erase how the simple graze had set her on fire from the inside out. Her body would never forget.

Swallowing back the vicious turn of her thoughts, Elain peered up at the Illyrian, watching as raging remarks bore down from those luminous eyes – swirls of gold and seafoam green warring with one another. An inquisition she wasn’t quite sure she was ready to face. They’d probably never get this chance again, to be so close that his scent left her cheeks flushed, mind swimming from the potent fragrance his presence exuded even as her heart threatened to remind her of those tormenting words when sensuous lips finally parted. “This was a mistake.”

One breath. Two. The pounding of her heart resonated in her ears as she fought to keep the voices down, struggled to get control of herself as she realized it was not with blatant disinterest that Azriel was looking at her now but genuine concern. “I can’t imagine you enjoy standing here like this. You’re trembling like a leaf…” Doubtful orbs flickered down to her body to discover she was, in fact, shaking - though not for the reasons Azriel assumed. And she had every reason to believe that he knew that as well. “Let me take you back to the house an—“

“No.”

“Elain.” There it was, that quiet sternness that would have left no room for protest but Elain had enough pretending, enough running away. She’d spent the entirety of her life doing what other’s expected of her. No more.

“I shall not go back to that house.” Not when there were too many painful memories still haunting the residence... Not when Lucien’s scent still rested within the house. Not when here, with him, was both exactly where she wanted to be and where she wanted to escape all at once. With renewed courage Elain took a stride toward the male meeting that startled gaze with sincerity as she spoke once more. “I shall not go back to that house.”

A heavy sigh passed between them as Azriel brushed back raven locks, resolution wavering beneath the surface of his withdrawn expression as he gingerly scooped Elain into his arms, a soft gasp tumbling from darkened lips when that mellow voice ghosted over her like a loving caress. “Where would you like to go?”

The town house was only a short flight away but Elain didn’t protest when the breeze gleamed through her hair, not as sharp or bitter as she’d expected though the seer suspected that Azriel played some part in keeping the harsh winds from causing any harm. As terrifying as it had been at first, the Archeron couldn’t tear her focus away from the powerful strokes of wings as they shifted between fighting against the current in unforgiving flutters and gliding along to let the soaring gales guide the way. Azriel had spoken to her once about the gift of flight the Illyrians had been blessed with. ‘Born hearing the song of the wind’. It had been a strikingly shocking image with how little she’d known about the fae, how impossible it sounded to be able to sail amongst the skies. She hadn’t quite taken to it the way her sisters had but with Azriel, she knew she was safe. There was a chance that a secret, closeted part of her understood how it could be so appealing. Freedom like that, to come and go as you pleased with only the fluff of the clouds, the twinkle of starlight, the cry of birds, and the calming winds as their sole companions was something people only heard of in fairy tales. Unchained from the land that couldn’t bind them even if it tried. Truly, it was majestic.

As they approached the door, Elain muttered a gentle word of thanks to which Azriel only gave a solid nod, easing her onto the ground as though she were as precious and fragile as a newborn babe he was terrified of breaking. “I can’t take us inside. It’s warded against-“ But again those words were cut off as Elain brushed a hand against the base of the door, releasing a shimmer of her power into the marbled wood which groaned open in welcome – as though she was returning to an old friend. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to know the unspoken inquiries between them had multiplied at her display, merely stepping inside while Azriel followed. “Was that… I didn’t know that you could. That you still…”

It was unusual to hear the shadowsinger at such a loss for words but Elain could only imagine how much of a surprise this all came to him, and would no doubt continue to do so as the night passed. “I’m still not quite sure what it is. Honestly I’ve only tried once before but I- I don’t think I broke through the wards so much as they… Let me through.” It was difficult to explain, especially when Elain had yet to discover what she was capable of, having been content to let whatever the Cauldron had given her slumber in peace. “I thought we could both take comfort in more familiar surroundings, away from the cold and away from… everything else. Because I… I’m not sure I’ll have the strength to do this if I wait a moment longer.” Elain did not meet the elder’s eyes as she spoke, afraid of what she might see if she dared and unable to handle how much more she would break if she did. “I can’t… I cannot continue spending every waking moment contemplating if I’d been wrong. If I’d done something to offend you or if I misunderstood everything. If what I felt was a creation from my mind and nothing more. I could have accepted that, I wouldn’t question or force your hand if I’d believed without any doubt that you felt nothing. But then that night I thought… When you gave me that necklace…” Quivering fingers brushed against her throat, following the path his fingers had traveled that fateful night before settling where the necklace had too briefly rested near the cusp of her breasts and she could have sworn Azriel flinched at the gesture. “It was the single most beautiful thing I’d ever received in my life. Because it came from you. Because I couldn’t imagine what must have gone through your mind as you were searching for such a gift. That it was truly for me…” They hadn’t exchanged gifts between each other the year prior. She had not minded that the Illyrian only presented a gift to his High Lady, not when she’d gotten to hear that glorious laughter when his was given. Nor the blossoming smile she had received this year – both memories she treasured dearly. But Elain had known, had heard glimmers of excited conversations as she strolled down the street; male and female alike chatting about what gifts they would purchase for their lovers, gifts they’d hoped to receive, and realized that amongst them, Winter Solstice jewelry was a gift commonly reserved for males intending to woo their mates and wives. She vaguely recalled the earrings Lucien had given her but it was the necklace, so simple and vibrant and stunningly Azriel, that had set her heart ablaze. “I didn’t expect you to give me anything and, in truth, I hadn’t anticipated that you would be lurking when I came to present your gift but I thought maybe that encounter was a gift in itself. A moment that… would mean something to both of us.” Elain had left herself vulnerable, had been so willing to give herself to Azriel that night, to erase the doubts and cross that boundary together with him. And he’d turned her away.

“It did.” She barely registered the words, spoken so softly that she couldn’t be certain she heard them at all. But as inviting warmth enveloped her cheeks, brushing aside the dampness she hadn’t been aware scoured the soft flesh and blurred her vision, Elain peered up - downcast orbs forced to meet crushed hazel. “It meant everything, Elain. And you did nothing wrong. It was I who should have apologized. For ever making you feel this way. For leaving the way I did. But do not spend another second believing that I don’t regret the pain I’ve caused you. That I felt nothing. Feel nothing,” he amended as her breath caught in her throat, tranquil palm lifting to rest atop the larger where it stayed burrowed against her cheek. “Not once have I forgotten. You are always on my mind, Elain, even at the most unbidden of times. Staying away from you is as difficult as taking a breath with no oxygen. I have tried and tried again to keep my distance, for both our sakes. That night only reminded me of just how dangerous it is to have you near when I can’t even get a reign on my own feelings. I can’t deny that my thoughts aren’t always… worthy of you.” At this, crimson rushed to her cheeks staining them in a flushed gleam, every word to follow scandalous yet an erasure of all the insecurities that had plagued her for far too long. “Some nights my longing is so intent that I would find no shame crawling to you like a dog, begging for a taste, and would be grateful for whatever you gave me. I would drop to my knees and welcome even the smallest reprieve. I want you. I need you. All of you. And I wouldn’t have been able to hold myself back for even a second when you were right there before me… Just the scent of you… And if your mate-“

“He is not my mate.” Elain didn’t try to stop the words from escaping, the relief that came with them despite the confusion exhibited upon Azriel’s face. Idly her fingers danced across the placid ridges of scarred flesh, resisting the urge to lean further into the absent touch before turning to press a kiss upon the hand that cradled her so lovingly. “I refuse to commit my life to someone I don’t love, someone chosen for me simply because the world deems it so. I could never want him, not in the way that would have left either of us happy. And he… He knew that as well. I’ve had so much stolen from me: my life, my marriage, my father. Things I shall never get back. He bore witness to it at all and still he couldn’t understand. He would never understand. I belong to no one. My body… My heart… Are mine to give.” She felt Azriel go rigid under her touch, eyes connecting with his when lips parted from flesh once more and for what felt like the first time that night, she smiled. A genuine grin full of emotions she’d spent so long hiding away, buried so deep beneath the surface that now they were bursting towards the light that shimmered within depths of hazel. Sucking in a deep breath, Elain kept her eyes trained upon the tall male, steps so silent one would think she were a shadow herself, as she closed the distance between them. “Whatever thoughts you have about me, I don’t find them shameful at all. There’s nothing indecent about your desire. I too have… allowed my mind to wander from time to time.” The confession left her flustered from head to toe but she did not stop, knowing the Illyrian needed to hear these words as much as she did. “What you do, what you’ve done, who you believe you are… does not make you unworthy of anything in this world. Because the truth of your heart, Azriel… That is truly a thing of beauty.” Her eyes searched his, that fear of hearing those devastating words uttered drifted in the back of her mind but all it would take was a single sign from him to know that tonight would be different.

There would be no running away, no broken hearts, no abandoned gifts.

Here it was only them.

The shadowsinger and the seer, spymaster and kingslayer, darkness and light.

It was with absolute clarity that the vision danced behind her eyelids of the life they could have had, a path that could have been taken had that night gone differently. Yet the image that painted her reality was well worth the wait. The tangle of Azriel’s hands gliding along the expanse of her neck, slowly traversing the subtle contour as he leaned in to inhale as though he were determined to keep her scent locked into his senses. The action had her swallow, gasping for air while her heart rammed against her chest loud enough for the male to hear. As his hands slipped into the golden chestnut rivulets, Elain did not close her eyes, intent on watching as the elder craned down towards her lips. With painful familiarity she recalled the last time she’d left herself susceptible to the male only to be left torn. She would not take that risk again. Elain rose to the tips of her toes the moment Azriel’s lips brushed against the plush flesh, eliciting a plethora of butterflies to take off in the pit of her stomach. She’d imagined this moment a million different ways but absolutely nothing had prepared her for the intensity of his kiss. His lips, so surprisingly soft against her own, drank her in as though she were a glass of wine and he was unequivocally parched. Playful nips and lithe tongues explored one another, tasting and wanting until Elain had to part, unable to catch her breath fast enough as she took in Azriel’s disheveled appearance in its magnificence. All pretenses had faded away leaving behind nothing but the yearning of their hearts and bodies. Hunger flickered over the shadowsinger’s scrutinizing glance as he mirrored her actions, settling upon her chest and it was with a start that Elain realized her coat had fallen off somewhere between reaching out to Azriel and being ravaged by his touch.

A small flex in that chiseled jaw left Elain feeling utterly exposed despite the opaque fabric that hung loosely against her flesh. Azriel’s stare was piercing, so intense that she wondered if he could somehow see through the garment and straight towards the bare body beneath. “Mother above.” He gritted out, lifting her chin between his thumb and forefinger. The former brushed beneath her lower lip, slow and tantalizing like an unspoken kiss before his free arm draped around her waist hoisting the Made fae to settle against his hips as though she weighed no more than a Seraphim’s feather. There was no warning, only adoration and lust building amongst their embrace and interlocked eyes while Azriel blindly made his way up the staircase, the shadows as his guide. “I can’t promise I’ll be entirely gentle. But I can promise that tonight you will be worshipped like the goddess you are, Elain Archeron.”

Starlight and shadows. Moonlight at dusk. Dewdrops crashing against the pavement on an early spring morning. The vivid images came flowing one after the other with every kiss Azriel drew across her body. It started at her ankles - a compassionate caress of lips upon bare flesh. The beautifully bronzed complexion contrasted against porcelain as he worked his way up, a sight Elain couldn’t tear herself away from. A glide against her calves followed, languid yet painfully calculated as he crept over the vulnerable flesh to the glory of her plush inner thighs. Her entire body trembled from the sharp graze of teeth against supple flesh, the tender kisses that opposed the harsh suckles sure to leave their claim upon her frame once morning arose. All he’d done was kiss her and yet it was more than Graysen had ever made her feel. She could wonder if it had anything to do with her fae body, the pleasures amplified with her new form, but Elain was almost certain it had everything to do with the skilled male who knelt before her committing every inch of her being to memory. Clearing out of the fog, Elain lifted her hips to accommodate the pleading hands tugging at the intrusive fabric that covered her center, a grunted growl of gratitude all she heard as he spread her legs wider, denying any modesty she may have had left. Elain was left writhing, placed completely on display before the Illyrian. Yet he did not move. He’d taken on that stillness once more, enough for concern to grow as even his chest eluded to his halted breaths. “Azriel…?” Delicate, slender fingers brushed aside the silky raven locks, cascading down to his tense jaw - realization dawned on the beauty then. He was waiting. He would not move another breadth until he was absolutely certain this was what she wanted. That he was what she wanted. “Yes,” she breathed out, slipping her hand back along the curve of his cheek before repeating once again. “Yes.”

Heat blossomed between her thighs, an electric current that ran straight through her core and up her spine as Azriel gathered her fluids with his tongue. It was more than just a taste. He devoured her. She struggled against the urge to knock her legs together, trapping the Illyrian between them, while the male kept her right where he wanted her. Breathless moans filled the room as an unexpected chill coursed over her skin. A hitch resounded, enough to startle whatever presence stirred against her but only for a moment. Her hooded gaze searched beneath thick lashes to capture the culprit responsible. Darkness, as menacing as it was inviting, crept over her flesh beneath the fabric bunched at her waist, exploring all the places Azriel had yet to touch. It was such a startling contrast: the cool kiss of roguish shadows and the heat of Azriel’s tongue as they worked in tandem to drive even more of those sensual moans from her lips. Across her navel, the graceful planes of her slender belly, beneath and over the curved peaks of her breasts, the protruding collarbones – the shadows explored. A few bolder fiends slithered down to join Azriel, working over the swollen bud that had her crying out in bliss. A squeeze, a flicker as mindful as his hands had been, left Elain with questions she wasn’t sure either of them could answer but the shadows didn’t stop. Not even as she arched off the bed, slight digits capturing silky obsidian in a rigid hold exploding against Azriel’s tongue without warning. Ecstasy like she’d never known coiled in her belly while she fought for breath, tremors wracking through her body when doe orbs came to rest upon the male still lapping up every ounce of her like he couldn’t get enough. “Az…”

A gleam of those fluids upon Azriel’s lips and she averted her gaze, unable to take the look of pure male satisfaction upon his face when that same tongue peaked out to gather what remained from the plush flesh. She knew the heat she felt wasn’t merely from embarrassment nor the blinding orgasm he’d just given her. It was the unspoken truth she’d caught when their eyes connected. More. A savage beast had been unleashed and somewhere down that tether of trust and understanding, Elain welcomed him. The looming figure towered over her as he crawled atop the bed, lifting her hips to rest upon his thighs. Leaning in until his lips ghosted over the shell of her ear, Azriel snarled in triumph. “You taste absolutely divine. Can’t really blame them for stealing a bite too.” He chuckled and the warmth of it, his breath dancing upon her ear, caused that pool of arousal to build up all over again while the mischievous shadows hovered beside the bed restless. “Eyes on me.” The husky order tore her attention from the wisps of night, eyes widening as the male pulled the tangled top up and over his head and wings, aimlessly tossing it aside to expose the broad torso and sharp V that cut through the surface of low hanging sweats. Now it was her turn to consume the sight of him.

Without thinking her hands reached out, tracing along the contours of carved muscle that had been built over centuries of fierce training. Not the softness of a lord but flesh so precise and hard it could belong to no one but a warrior. Rising up, her fingers plunged along the swirls and dips of onyx embedded across tanned flesh, fluttering between where the tattoos and bronze met. Though she didn’t know the meaning nor history behind the ink, she found it intoxicatingly striking nonetheless. Everything about Azriel had always been beautiful to her. Yes, physically he was undeniably attractive, a god among men in a world of ethereal splendors. But more than that, Elain had seen beyond the shadows, through the glaze of night he drowned himself in and knew that the male before her was beauty beyond compare. And she would gladly show him just how lovely he was.

Chocolate orbs fell upon the splayed wings, the power that carried them through the skies as her fingers itched to know what they felt like against her skin. Turning back towards Azriel’s intent gaze, Elain managed to find her voice. “May I touch them?” The gentle words lingered in the air between them, a spark resonating in the golden hazel before a grunt of silent acknowledgment resounded from the male, a single nod following. Her fingers found their mark as she leaned in, balancing herself between the bed and the stiff body craning her upward as, ever so lightly, Elain brought the digits down to graze against the flesh. An indecipherable noise followed the touch, wings flexing at the action before Elain quickly retreated, twisting to face the shadowsinger unable to hide the concern that graced her cherubic features. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I—“

“You didn’t hurt me.” The voice that answered seemed an octave lower than it had been a moment ago, setting her body alight at the sound. “Continue.”

Certain that the male was truly okay, Elain attempted once again to explore the robust wings, surprised by the softness that covered the thick ridges - like smooth leather, yet warm to the touch. She continued gliding across bulging veins and sinewy flesh trying to place where she’d felt that texture before, as the curious appendages shifted towards the protruding claw that jutted fiercely atop the apex of his wing. Elain silently wondered how Azriel could even manage to lift the massive wings so easily when her eyes drew over his shoulder following the expanded wings distended over the sides of the bed while her fingers traversed back towards the thinner membrane of his inner wings stilling at the growl of a moan that followed. “Fuck.” Another grunt as she looked towards Azriel, gaze descending until they landed upon the throbbing bulge that rested between them. Not pain, but pleasure. Realization dawned on the fae far too late, motioning to pull her hands away but found herself unable to move when imploring eyes caught her in their grasp. “Don’t stop, Elain.” Swallowing back the saliva that had built up in her stupor, Elain nodded, pools of chocolate returning their focus to the male as her fingers experimented with purpose, gauging his reaction with every flicker against gaunt flesh to the graze of stiff muscle before taking matters into her own hands. A devious smile was the only caution Azriel would receive as she rose to her knees, settled upon where the male kept her firmly pressed against his body as inquisitive fingers were replaced by imploring lips. Every shudder that ran through the male when rosy flesh skimmed across the bare expanse of smooth membrane brought courage to Elain, actions growing more precise as her lithe tongue peeked out to flash across the seam that tapered the claw to the base of his wing earning a devastating rumble in response. “If only you knew just what you do to me…” With only Azriel’s loose pants separating them, she stifled a shrill moan when he rocked up against her, giving her a feel of the wonders she was creating with her touch.

Cool mist traveled up her outstretched arms, a darkness she saw only from the corner of her eye before the shadow came into view, joined by another as they wrapped around her fragile wrists, distracting her long enough for Azriel to effortlessly peel the gown from her body letting it join his crumpled shirt on the ground. A hiss she wasn’t sure came from herself, Azriel, or the shadows surrounding her tore through the silence. Possibly a mixture of all three. A brisk chill nudged against her heated flesh; a violent contrast that pebbled the coral buds as Azriel smirked watching the shadows rush over her splayed figure. They weren’t a part of him, not entirely. That was one of the things she’d learned during their late night conversations so long ago. Though he could command them, could listen to the whispers they carried on the wind, the entities were a separate being all together. Whether it was his doing or not, she didn’t get to ask as those perfect lips collided against hers with fervent passion. Large palms crept along her sides, following the delicate swell of her hips to the curves of her waist before rising over the soft mounds of her breasts. Elain arced against the touch, desperate to relish the way the scarred flesh felt against its flawless counter. She wanted every inch of her body to be claimed by him, to be devoured as thoroughly as he had her lips and her dripping core. An answering growl followed as his lips tore away but those hands… His thumb circled the rising bud with glaring intent, tweaking and tugging on the pert nub that stole endless moans from the quivering female. “How long I’ve waited for you, my rose… So many sleepless nights. Too many…” A vice like grip shackled along her wrists pinning her in place when, all too quickly, what had once been taunting fingers was now a slithering tongue swirling against hardened flesh before drawing her into his mouth. “Sing for me, rose.” Elain’s voice lifted in a symphony of moans, airy and consuming from the heat that engulfed her breast. Her head was growing fuzzy, vision blurred from the intimacy of his touch that was joined by another. Wings. It was those damned wings that skid across her center, glistening from her slickness like the saliva that lingered on her swollen nipples. His wings that slid between her folds unleashing another blessed cry of pleasure from her lips. Her hips moved on their own, rolling and searching for more of the delectable friction he was offering, feeling that familiar coil building within but before she could fall along the edge, the muscles jerked back leaving her rutting against air and teetering on the pangs of withdrawn euphoria. “Do you feel how wet you are, Elain? How ready you are for me? Just say the words.” As he spoke, the shadowsinger let the silver cloth fall from his hips, freeing his strained cock from the confining fabric.

Elain stared in awe, struggling to keep her gaze anywhere but where they wished to go. A battle that she lost after mere seconds. There would be no hiding the effect the sight of him had on her body as she squirmed in place wishing she could sink beneath the folds of the mattress to hide the flood of arousal pooling between her legs, the raging thunder of her heart thrashing in anticipation of what was to come. “I want you, Azriel… I need you inside me. Touching me… I-I might truly be losing my mind.” The last words were uttered under her breath, embarrassed by the needy display and the pang his wings had left behind.

There was not a trace of humor found in the rich hazel as Azriel shifted, lifting her to perch on the center of his lap as he worked his fingers over the moist crevice aching to be filled. Shadows rose from every corner of the room, tangling around her wrists, her legs, obscuring her vision to leave her in utter dusk while Azriel’s voice – that rich, deep tenor that made her knees go weak – caressed her body in a way only he could. “Do not be afraid, my rose. Trust me.”

“I’m not afraid… Never of you…”

A kiss against her nape softened the tension in her body as Azriel scooped Elain up against his chest, gingerly draping her bound arms to hang around his neck. “Hold tight,” he commanded, a wicked edge lacing the words as he raised her hips. “And don’t make a sound.”

Shimmering constellations and falling starlight filled her senses as Azriel sheathed himself inside her, inch by pulsing inch. She was no longer a virgin - her chastity given to the man she once thought she'd marry, had loved despite the rejection that followed - yet the sheer size of the Illyrian as he settled within was her undoing. Teeth gnawed against kiss swollen lips to fight against the urge to cry out in pleasure. Her back arched off his sculpted chest, perky breasts protruding from her dainty frame while Azriel rocked into her from below, guiding her hips up and down the stiff length in encouragement before Elain began to move of her own accord. "You're doing so well, my rose. Fuck, you’re clenched so tight around me..."

The silence was unbearable; the enticing words that ghosted the rim of her ears a wicked torment that added to her pleasure despite the blissful cruelty of his command. With every strained whimper, every mingled whine, Azriel's praise was as relentless as the wild pounding sending her senses into overdrive. Where his fingers teased and toyed the swollen bundle of nerves, shadows joined to wrap around her breasts; a whisper against her skin as they quivered between the peaked valleys scorching her flesh with their night-kissed touch. Elain fought desperately to keep her composure, to follow the spymaster's command but it had become too much to bear. "Azriel..!" She cried tossing her head back against his shoulder as the first surge hit like a wave crashing upon the shore. Her hips stuttered where they ground against the thick shaft, body and mind split between two worlds. Elain didn't need her vision to know the proof of her ecstasy now coated his cock and lingered against her thighs. But he didn't stop. Calculated thrusts where replaced by viciously deep penetration, scarred palms cradling her body in place as bursts of warmth filled her from within.

Neither of them moved, the heady aroma of their union roaming across every corner of the room. Darkness morphed into dim light as the shadows released their hold, restoring her vision and freeing her limbs despite part of her enjoying the restraint more than she would have imagined. The powerful grip along her hips eased, rising to loop around her waist as Azriel eased them onto their sides and pressed his lips everywhere the shadows had bound her. "You lasted much longer than I thought you would... It was a torturous shame not to hear that lovely voice of yours moaning out for me but seeing that level of control... Of restraint..."

A rumble ruptured against her back as Elain glanced over her shoulder, coming face to face with the devastatingly handsome warrior. “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” She countered earning a strident laugh from the shadowsinger so joyous that Elain smiled as well, curled against his chest while Azriel’s fingers pranced across her shoulders to twine against the fallen locks cascading between them.

“You would be the first,” He crooned into the exposed flesh of her neck. “Though I can think of plenty other places I can place my lips if words are too much for you.” Tilting her chin back towards him, Elain’s breath hitched at the ferocity that returned, gleaming beneath captivating orbs as he smiled so openly that the words that came from his mouth should have been a sin. “Places even more delicious, and far more interesting, if you’d like. This is only the beginning, my rose.”

Heavy footsteps tromped through the empty recesses of the library - a purposeful gesture to alert the priestesses of his presence should any be found lurking in the alcoves, a kind attempt at warning the women that resided there, aware that some were still skittish of the shadowsinger. It was barely the cusp of dawn when Azriel strolled into the library, hoping to return before Elain awakened alone. He traveled with purpose. There were too many wrongs he had to right, too many frivolous mistakes made in his anguish, and he refused to let anyone else suffer for his misguided actions. It was Clotho who greeted him, glancing up from her perch behind the desk as he approached. "Have you seen Gwyn? I need to speak with her."

The enchanted pen scrawled idly across a scrap of paper, Clotho's gaze fixed on the male in curiosity before the pen ceased its writing. May I ask what it is you wish to speak with her about?

"I..." Ruffling his fingers through the hairs along his nape, Azriel contemplated for a moment before settling upon the truth. There would be no sense in lying, especially not to the priestess. His voice became solemn as he spoke. "I need to apologize to her."

That hooded gaze pierced through him, head angled as though she were seeing him for the first time. But it was not disdain that filled her thoughtful scrutiny as the pen began to move once more. Hazel orbs widened at the words he saw scribbled dutifully upon the page. Your eyes are alight, Shadowsinger.

The observation was stunning, a clever lyric that took him back to that fateful day so many months ago. "I've finally found something that brings me joy."

Without another word, a small box was pushed across the table. It was rare to see Clotho expose herself like this but he didn’t waver, eyes focused on the tiny patch of velvet rather than the hands that presented it to him as she often showed him the same courtesy.  Gwyneth would have enjoyed such a lovely gift. But if she knew that sadness followed its transfer, the gesture would be lost. I believed it would return to its true owner someday. Certainly even you would have come to regret letting such a treasure go. She deserves something as beautiful as this.

The truth that had been buried deep in his heart, the one he'd denied for so long, had surfaced that night; but it was now that he understood the depths of the priestess' words, sending her a rare smile. He would not let her go again. “Yes, she does.”

The sight before him was perhaps the most glorious image he’d ever seen. If he had Feyre’s talent for art he would have spent the next 15 years trying to perfectly render this moment. Elain resting atop the pillow that still bore his scent, golden brown tresses spread around her curled figure like wings that glinted under the stray rays of sunlight that illuminated her being in a subtle glow, fingers trailing over the obsidian blade he’d hidden beneath his pillow as tenderly as any lover while her lips parted with the faintest of breaths.

His bold little flower... His ferocious fawn. A radiance that brought light into his dark world.

Whether they were mates or not held no bearing on his heart, not any longer. There would be no more restless nights, no more crumbling dreams, and no more pained glances. Because she had chosen. By whatever ancient gods still looked their way she had chosen him and what they had ran deeper than any bond the Cauldron could manifest - perhaps a blessing from the Mother herself, or one created by their own making. An unbreakable chain that wove between their souls.

“For a moment I was worried that it’d all been a dream... Memories and visions blurred to create a fantasy. But even dreams have their limits. Welcome home, Azriel.”

For the first time in his 500 years of life, he did not feel simply welcome or content as he did with his brothers, with his given family... He did not feel as though he were playing a role in something greater, someplace he didn’t entirely belong. This was where he was always meant to be. He was home. And as her eyes set upon him, a meeting of rich caramel and golden hazel so warm, so uninhibited and loving, that his heart clenched within his chest, Azriel swore he would tear down mountains to protect that twinkling glow in her eyes. To never again see it fractured by heartache or pain. By the terrors the world tossed in their path. By him. No matter what came their way, orders be damned, he would fight for this. For them. For his home.