Chapter Text
Elain p.o.v
Elain realised she’d been holding her breath.
Just a second ago, she had been within an inch of Azriel’s lips, and suddenly he was halfway across the room. Walking away like he hadn’t just punctured her with his cruel words.
She was a mistake to him. Nothing more. Maybe she had been foolish to believe otherwise. To think that she could turn his head after centuries of looking only at Mor. For surely, that must be why Azriel had changed his mind so suddenly. He’d thought he would be able to look at another, love another, but when it had come down to it, it was repulsive to him. And now all Elain could think about was how badly she’d wanted to be that ‘other’.
The room was cold and dark, Elain wondered how long she’d been standing there alone, frozen. Blinking out of her stupor, she made her feet move and headed for her room, with the vague idea that she should wash, undress, and sleep. When she reached her chamber, Cerridwen was there, and helped Elain into her nightclothes. She seemed to sense Elain’s distress and stayed quiet.
Elain lay awake in her bed for what felt like hours, numbness spreading through her. Replaying Azriel’s words and expression in her head over and over. She expected tears and overwhelming sorrow to hit her at any moment, as they had for Graysen. But nothing came. It was like her body, having survived and recovered from that turmoil before, simply refused to go into that hole again. Instead, it was just shutting down, and all she felt was numb.
After Graysen, Elain hadn’t thought she’d ever be able to open her heart up again, wouldn’t be able to risk the hurt for anything, or anyone. But Azriel, quiet, peaceful, hauntingly beautiful Azriel, his shadows had seeped into her heart so slowly she hadn’t noticed at first. She’d been so distracted, so caught up in her heartbreak that she hadn’t noticed how dependent on him she’d become. How often she craved the time in his serene presence. Until one day, Elain had looked up into his hazel eyes, and it dawned upon her all at once how consumed her heart was with him.
She knew that Az knew how she felt, knew he could scent it on her. But he had been careful, oh so careful to give nothing away. About how he might feel, whether it might be the same way.
That was, until the last few weeks. She’d caught his stares, the lingering gazes. She wasn’t foolish enough to believe he was slipping up; he was spymaster of the Night Court for heaven’s sake. If she was catching him, Azriel wanted to be caught. Of course, these looks had just made Elain want him more. She became hyper-aware of her body every time she was around him, how it became warm and loose, how everything she touched seemed heightened with the sensation. She knew it was arousal, it was how she had felt before she had given herself to Graysen all that time ago. And Azriel’s eyes always blew wide after a few moments. At first that was embarrassing, the idea that he could tell immediately when she wanted him. But she learned to enjoy the effect she had on the winged male, the staring and the wide pupils. Tonight though, had been the very first time that she thought she had caught a change in his own scent, or rather, that he had let her catch it. Elain still wasn’t used to the heightened senses of her Fae body, but Azriel’s unmistakable cedar scent had deepened, had smelt woodier somehow. Then, when he had leaned in, she was sure, she was so sure and yet-
He had shut down so quickly it had almost given her whiplash. And now she was left utterly numb, wondering which signs she had read wrong. The stares? The eyes? The necklace?
The necklace!
How could she have forgotten the pure gold woven chain, with the delicate yet elegant stained glass rose amulet he had gifted her for solstice! There was no way that gift could be misconceived, surely. It was luxurious, plain and simple, not something you buy for just a friend.
Elain’s hand palmed her neck and found she was still wearing the pendant. Just like that, the numbness drifted away, replaced by slowly building ire. How could Azriel buy her something like that, fasten it the way he did, hands lingering and caressing- only to tell her she was a mistake and walk away? What right had he to lead her on like that?
Fresh anger coursing through her, she unfastened the chain and stormed out of her room, too aggravated to even care that she was only in her nightclothes. Taking the stairs two at a time, Elain rushed back down to the living room and over to the piles of gifts. She saw the necklace’s discarded box from earlier and returned the pendant to it, throwing it onto the top of the nearest gift pile, and spun to storm back up to her room.
She didn’t get far.
Lucien. Lucien was standing by the door.
Still as a statue, the crimson haired male’s nostrils flared slightly, as if taking in some unexpected scents.
Elain realised what those scents were too late, and Lucien’s eyes went wide as he backed out of the room.
Whenever she saw her ‘mate’, Elain couldn’t help the way she locked up with fear. The idea of some stranger owning her, having the rights to her body and soul and heart, before they’d even met? It made her skin crawl, and panic shoot through her bones. Especially after she’d been captured by Hybern with Nesta, forced into the Cauldron, had that choice taken away. To come out of it alive, but different, then immediately have some huge, scarred man- male- claim to possess her? Forever! It had been the most terrifying night of Elain’s existence. And every time Lucien had walked into a room since, she couldn’t help her body’s natural reaction of going completely rigid, petrified he would try and take her away, take another of her choices away.
But this was different. He’d come into the room for Cauldron knew what, only to scent her own arousal- mixed with another males’. She owed him nothing, she was free to do as she liked. That’s what Elain told herself, what her sisters repeatedly told her. Yet his face as he’d backed out the room… She wondered if he knew it had been Az’s scent. Oh.
Oh no-
Elain forced herself to unlock, pushed the fear down an she ran after Lucien. Thoughts for herself evaporated, it was her fear for Azriel that had her hurtling out of the sitting room and towards the foyer. Surely, surely, Lucien wouldn’t be stupid enough to challenge Azriel to some kind of- duel? Territory fight? She cursed her own ignorance of these Fae protocols. She prayed Lucien hadn’t yet reached the boundary and winnowed out. She had only been frozen for a couple of seconds!
Rounding the corner to the foyer Elain saw the front door wide open, and Lucien only a few steps beyond.
“Lucien?” She spoke quietly, knowing he would hear her anyway. “Lucien, please stop.”
He did. And turned to face her slowly. His face and body were completely slack, with what looked like shock, or maybe incomprehension. His russet eye looked empty, unseeing. But then it seemed to blink to life and his name on Elain’s lips. When he looked at her, it was carefully blank.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you, I- I might’ve had a bit much to drink so I was taking a walk in the garden, and I thought to come back in to sit by the fire before bed but- I didn’t know you were in there, Elain.”
And he was- he was defending himself. Like he was in the wrong, like he was the one who needed to apologise. That was unexpected.
“You’re not- angry?” Elain tried, “I thought you would be angry.”
Lucien’s eyes widened.
“What right would I have to be angry? You’re your own person Elain, I have no say in your choices, no right to a say. I am sorry, I’m sorry that you’ve never let me explain that I don’t expect anything from you, that you needn’t be so scared every time you merely see me. But I understand anyway; why you’ve never wanted to speak to me properly. It’s okay.” He softened then, tried a small smile. And it was Elain’s turn to blink in shock.
“You don’t- but how could you not expect anything from me? I’m your mate.” She asked.
The smile fell from Lucien’s face, and something like wonder filled his russet eye.
“You’ve never said that before, to me. You have never said that you’re my mate.” Lucien told her.
Horror suddenly gripped Elain. What if she’d somehow given him permission to take her- accepted the bond in some way! Just by acknowledging it!
Lucien clearly saw the panic in her eyes because his next words were an attempt at calming her. “Hey, it doesn’t mean anything Elain, that you said that. I’m not suddenly going to take you away or make you do anything. I know you don’t know how this all works, but I wish you’d ask, because I want to make you understand I would never, ever, do anything without your consent. Enthusiastic consent at that.” His arms were stretched out, palms down in a calming gesture, as if she were a horse about to bolt.
Elain let his words wash over her, sinking in slowly. How Lucien could tell exactly what she was thinking, and what her fears were, she didn’t know. But it felt good to have those fears calmed, have her queries addressed. She thought maybe, just a little confirmation might-
“So, you’re not going to take me?”
“Cauldron, no, Elain.”
She let out a long exhale, and relaxed at the earnest tone in his voice. He noticed her visible relief, and smiled wistfully.
“I wish we could have had this conversation a year ago, Elain. Or even two. I hated you being so afraid of me, hated it with every fibre of my being. I should have tried harder to explain-”
“No, Lucien. It’s okay, I really didn’t- I didn’t exactly present you with any opportunities.”
And Elain smiled back at him. For the first time. It just felt so good to not be scared, like this suffocating, final weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
Lucien grinned then, whether at her terrible attempt at humour or her smile- possibly both, she didn’t know. But it was quite something to see, especially when all she’d seen on his face for two years was sorrow, sorrow she was personally responsible for. He looked like a completely different male. Handsome. Although, if she was going to be totally honest with herself, he had always been handsome. But this, this happy, kind face grinning at her, it might have made her heart flip over. Just a little.
But then just as soon as it had appeared, the grin fell from his face, and for about two seconds he looked completely heartbroken. This was swiftly replaced with what Elain had learned to recognise as the Fae blank poker-face. A look that featured frequently in Feyre and Rhysand’s courtly politics.
“As I said before, I didn’t know you were in there, and I didn’t mean to disturb you. Apologies. I’ll be leaving now.” With that he turned away and continued on his path to the winnowing boundary.
Elain opened and closed her mouth several times. She took a completely involuntary step towards him, apparently unable to stop herself, and uttered his name as he disappeared into thin air.
Azriel p.o.v
He wasn’t really sure what he’d been thinking, leaving that necklace for Gwyn. Sure, he’d wanted to, but apparently that wasn’t much of a reason for anything these days. At least she wouldn’t know it had come from him, so it shouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass, right?
Fuck. He had to get over this petulant moodiness. He was acting like a love-struck yearling.
Because if he used his brain, and not his cock, he knew Rhysand was right. No matter that voice in the back of his head saying Elain should be his. He was the third brother and she was the third sister. Because everyone knew Cassian and Nesta were mates, even if they were being stupid about it. If he ignored that voice, and he could, his self-control was excellent, then it was plainly obvious that Lucien would be within his rights to challenge Azriel to a Blood Duel. And a Blood Duel between the two of them…
It would be catastrophic. Lucien’s death at the spymaster of the Night Court’s hand would surely cause war between the Autumn and Night Courts. And if Tamlin got involved then the whole situation could escalate very quickly into a full-on civil war. Which was really the last thing Prythian needed while the threat of Briallyn, Koschei and the Death Trove loomed.
And if Azriel were to throw the duel, loose deliberately…
He pushed the thought away. It was a selfish thought. He couldn’t do that to his brothers, to Mor and Feyre. Despite his isolation, his self-loathing and loneliness.
So, he had to get a grip, basically. Elain, much as he wanted her, was not worth the thousands of lives another war would cost. He would not be the cause of unnecessary death, he had enough blood on his hands as it was, could barely stand to look at them.
Maybe Rhysand had also been right, yesterday, when he’d suggested Azriel needed a good fuck. It had been… Cauldron it had been years. He knew he was wound to tight. Knew it was affecting his job, his awareness. But the thought of a strange female or male right now, it made his stomach churn. So instead of flying to one of the many ale-houses, or brothels, as he probably should, Azriel returned to his chamber at the House of Wind.
He had rarely taken a lover from a brothel. Only in his youth, under the bad influence that were his brothers, in times of war and peril. And only when the three of them had checked and triple checked that the females were there of their own choice, that they enjoyed what they did. He had no issues, nor held no judgement, for these females. But Azriel preferred to meet someone at a tavern if he was seeking a lover for the night. It appealed to some well-hidden, romantic part of him that he tried to ignore. Cassian would laugh himself hoarse. As if the bastard hadn’t gone completely soft himself in the last couple of years.
Stripping off his Illyrian leathers, Azriel climbed between the sheets of his bed, knowing full well he wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he had released some of that tension. Eased some of his wants and aches.
Sighing to himself in frustration, he reached for his hardening cock, and started to stroke up and down. Usually, his mind would create fictional scenarios of Elain, of how it would be with her, to fill her, own her body and soul. How she would want him to, ask for it, give herself to him completely. Tonight, however, he was thinking about how she had looked on solstice. How he had caressed her neck, her face. When she had uttered that damning word, ‘yes’, and Azriel had felt the earth starting to fall from under his feet. Only, in this version of the memory, there was no Rhys to interrupt. Azriel closed that last small gap and kissed Elain’s perfectly round mouth, parting her lips with his own as he slid his tongue in, claiming her.
In his head he backed her into the banister, kissing all the while, and brushed the thumb of his spare hand over her peaked breast. She gasped into his mouth, and that familiar, intoxicating feeling of control filtered down through his veins. Elain was more confident than he was expecting, and he felt her small hand press down around the large bulge straining against his pants. Snarling gently into her mouth in encouragement, he bit down on her bottom lip as she slid that petite hand into his leathers.
It was like it was Elain’s hand, not his own, that was working his dick. Rubbing a thumb over the end and twisting just slightly…
Azriel could feel his balls tightening, and he knew he was close to release.
His mind started to drift from the vision of Elain’s face, and suddenly her brown hair and eyes were replaced with that of coppery chestnut and teal. He couldn’t control the fantasy, couldn’t stop the image of this secret beauty smiling at him. It wasn’t Elain’s name on his lips as release found him.
It was Gwyn’s.