No, it’s not like she left him or anything drastic like that. Yet, he yearned to be accepted and loved by her as Fenrys was, and even Ruhn. With them, their little chaotic girl came alive. They were part of her little nebulous world, which she occupied and which Azriel wanted to visit, and stay in forever.
What he’d learned in the past week–their first week of marriage, was that Elain Archeron King was a beautiful, unexpected chaos. Or, as she called herself Elain Marie Paige Azriel King. Which was weird, but while he tried to argue with her, and explain that it was just Elain King, or, if she so insisted, Elain Marie Paige King, she wouldn’t hear of it and was convinced that the correct way to say her name was Elain Azriel King. When he tried again, and suggested that maybe she meant Elain Archeron King, she stomped her foot and told him that he doesn’t even know his own name. Or hers.
And that was that.
She was Elain Azriel King from then on.
Not that he minded at all.
If she wished to be Elain Azriel King, more power to her.
At home, she tended to wear a tiara.
She just walked around in a tiara and always barefoot–because she needed to ‘feel the earth’ with her toes. Also, according to her, she was a queen, because she was married to kings.
So be it. No one argued.
In a week, he’d learned a lot of things about his wife.
She was remarkably, adorably and unquestionably strange and somehow, she immediately fit into their psychotic trio–though that shouldn’t have been a surprise, since she clearly accepted them all and the state of the state, which was that she was theirs, and they were hers.
Even Ruhn fell under her spell. Ruhn. He’d never admit it to anyone, but Azriel was aware that Ruhn texted her throughout the day; sent her funny videos, jokes and memes, messages, photos of what he was doing or eating. If he wasn’t home in the morning, he sent her cartoon bears or puppies, with ‘good morning’ messages and “What’s my girl going to do today?” He also sent her videos or photos of his ‘work’ –with lots of blood, screaming and pleading. To which, she replied “ Go, Ruhn, go! ” or “ baby, you are doing so well! ” or “ that’s hot ”. Because just like them, Elain had a bloodthirsty streak in her and the more he learned about her, the clearer it became why she was able to take down that damn monster Hybern.
Ruhn hadn’t started his training with her yet, but they all knew that she would absolutely love it, and would probably be very good at it. If absolutely uncontrolled. Because if she killed like she danced, then the devil help them all.
*
What Azriel also found out was that Elain was a very bad judge of some of her abilities.
Curiously, things that she excelled at–cooking, for example, or baking, making truly stunning flower arrangements, having a spectacularly refined eye for design, and being effortlessly stylish–she felt insecure about. She always seemed surprised when the three of them complimented her food and when they cleaned the plates like a swarm of locusts. Any baked goods were gone in less than an hour. No matter how many muffins or rolls she made, everything was consumed, and yet, she even accused them of doing it on purpose, to make her feel better.
Now there were many things that Elain was…not good at. At all . She failed spectacularly.
Notably, those were the things that she felt that she excelled at and was ‘so good’ at.
“I am so good at languages!” she announced. “I can learn a language in three days!”
“I think a bit of an exaggeration, beautiful,” Ruhn argued reasonably.
“What languages do you know, baby?” Fenrys propped his chin on the counter and looked at her with big cow eyes, blinking like a love sick fool that he was.
“I know Italian and Spanish and French and English and many more,” she announced proudly.
Azriel, who was fluent in Italian, jerked his chin and said, “ Mi piacerebbe sentirti parlare Italiano,”
“If you want to hear me speak, here you go,” she pursed her lips and,
Well, she did speak Italian.
The problem was, she spoke like the fucking Terminator. She completely disregarded all the tenses, dropped most of the connecting words as she saw fit, and just did whatever the hell she wanted. She also randomly mixed half of the words up. Even Ruhn, who was fluent as well, winced a bit.
Yet, Elain, after concluding a long monologue about “ Abbiamo lo stesso numero di ossa nel collo delle giraffe,”
Or, how we humans had the same number of bones in our necks as giraffes, announced, “I speak so good!”
“Baby,” Fenrys, who knew about four words in Italian, purred lovingly, “you speak so so good. I don’t know why the giraffes are so stressed, but I bet you can make them feel better.”
That, actually, was a typical conversation between Elain and Fenrys.
Ruhn stroked her head and nodded his assent.
“You are very good in Italian, pretty girl!”
She beamed at the praise and then turned a challenging eye at Azriel.
“You do speak Italian,” was all he said.
“I told you I speak so good!” she concluded and puffed out her chest pridefully.
Then she attempted to speak Spanish, and yeah, she didn’t know Spanish. Though she could roll an ‘R’ like nobody’s business.
“Now speak English, baby,” Fenrys requested with the same stupid dreamy look on his face.
Azriel was very curious what that meant, and as it turned out, speaking ‘English’ was Elain doing a terrible British accent.
“You can’t even tell I am not British!” she declared triumphantly, with Fenrys nodding eagerly, like she was speaking the Queen’s English from a palace balcony. Hers was a weird mixture of cockney, that actor’s from all the Jane Austen movies, Fenrys’s, with a touch of Downton Abbey and Guy Ritchie movies. It made no sense, and yet, made every sense.
“Baby, your English is perfect!” Fenrys pulled her in for a kiss and Elain remained in her gloriously deluded state, absolutely convinced of her knowledge of languages. And the funny thing was that Azriel didn’t think that Fen was lying or trying to make her feel good–the man really thought that everything she did was magical and special. To Fenrys, Elain was perfect and could do no wrong.
Elain also succeeded in offering completely incorrect information with unflinching confidence, and then arguing that the information was indeed correct.
*
The four of them were driving to the beach the first weekend after the wedding. The day was glorious, the weather hot and the ocean beckoned. So they piled into Fen’s vintage Aston Martin convertible and headed out of the city before the sun was even up.
Between the Fenrys/Elain heated make-out sessions in the back seat, she dropped some interesting pearls of wisdom on them.
“Did you know that when you are sleeping with your mouth open a mouse can crawl in, lay eggs in there and then you wake up and there are a bunch of eggs and also baby mouses in your mouth?!”
“Mice,” Azriel corrected her.
“What?”
“Not mouses, mice.”
“I am pretty sure it’s mouses,” she insisted. “Ru, is it mouses or mice?”
Ruhn, who was sitting in the front with Azriel, offered diplomatically, “I think it depends on where you are from. The vernacular varies,”
That was another thing that they learned about her–language, in general, was just a suggestion to her. She floated within her thoughts and words, not necessarily needing anything to make sense, as long as it did to her.
Ruhn was the first person to learn how to decipher her fascinating ramblings and he just accepted them. Fenrys did as well. Her mind was a colourful rainbow of dreams and memories and aspirations. It was akin to stepping into a kaleidoscope and existing in a world of somewhat alternate consciousness.
It didn’t matter to them that mice didn’t lay eggs and that she mixed up mice and spiders, it only mattered that she wanted to share the information and found it so interesting.
So what if she named all the cars–there was Big Bessy , and Baby Blue , and Golden Boy , and Sad Muffin , and Vasily, andHedge.
A week in, and all four of them were addressing the cars by their ‘names’.
Her world was dreamy and beautiful–she admitted that she wanted to eat cannoli and live in the sun and read dark romance and sometimes kill people and breathe in the ocean and get neck kisses and ride in fast cars and never, ever, ever have the three of them leave her. Not even for a second. Not for a moment. They had to be together forever.
She was theirs, and they were hers.
*
On the way to the beach, they blared the radio and Elain sang along to the songs, messing up most of the lyrics. That was another thing Azriel had learned about his wife–he doubted that she knew ONE song correctly. She just continuously sang nonsense, sometimes, making up whole words, and trying to convince everyone that these were the right words.
Tina Turner’s ‘Simply the Best’ came on–one of their wedding songs, in fact, and Elain squealed with excitement. It was the song that the three of them dedicated to her at the wedding–and even lip synced it for her, as a trio. Azriel smiled, recalling how she ran to them after they were done, tears in her eyes, and wrapped her arms around the three of them, and they spun her around, attempting to maintain a sense of propriety and not kiss her in a non-brotherly manner.
Apparently though, she sang a different song entirely:
You’re simply the best
Better than all the best
Better than anyone
Anyone I’ve never met
I’m striking your heart
And hang you and every word you say
You tear us apart
Baby, I would rather you be dead
It wasn’t even close and made zero sense, but as usual, Elain was convinced that her version was the correct one and there was no arguing with her. Whose heart she was striking remained a mystery, but that was okay, because she was singing her heart out, arms waving in the air, eyes closed and it was pure joy.
And then Fenrys pulled her down onto the seat and tugged her top down, quickly freeing her plush tits from the bikini top. Ruhn twisted in his seat, turning to watch them, his hand landing on the breast closest to him and mashing it hard, while Fenrys began to lap on her other, biting her nipple and sucking all of it into his mouth.
“Boys,” she moaned, arching into their touch, not caring that they were in an open car and lo and behold, the moment a truck passed them, a deafening ‘toot-toot’ from the horn greeted her bare breasts. Ruhn flipped the trucker off, and Azriel grunted,
“Yes,” Elain moaned in the back, her legs falling apart around Fenrys’s hips as he busied himself with the other nipple, while Ruhn held the breast to his brother’s mouth.
“You gave me a good idea, Az,” Ruhn took out his phone and said, “I need this–firstly, to judge Fen’s shitty techniques,” Fenrys didn’t even pause the sucking, while he offered Ruhn the finger, “and when I am fucking bored as fuck torturing some fucker, I can at least entertain myself with Lainey’s pretty titties. Show them to me, honey,”
Elain pushed Fen away and then then had Ruhn film her semi-nude body, pausing for him, squeezing her breasts in her hands, jiggling them for him, pinching her wet nipples, until Fenrys lost his patience and pulled her up, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and rolled and tugged her nipples for the camera, until they began to visibly swell between his fingers and Elain started to moan.
“That’s right, my girl,” Ruhn encouraged her, licking his lips and grabbing a handful of the lush globes.
“Runnie,” she murmured, caressing his hand and having him squeezed her even tighter.
“Yes, love?”
“If you want to, you can film me sucking your cock,” she bit her lower lip, watching him from under her lashes. “You can always watch me and how you have your dick in my mouth,”
Azriel choked audibly and Ruhn readjusted himself in his jeans and nodded,
“I would love that, pretty girl,” he vowed. “You’ll give me the messiest blowjob and I’ll come all over your gorgeous tits,”
“Come in her mouth!” Fenrys argued.
“This is my fantasy and my blowie,” Ruhn waved him off, “I come where I want to come! You want to come in her mouth, you do you, brother.”
Elain stroked Fen’s cheek and kissed him tenderly,
“You can come in my mouth, Fen. I like it,”
“You came in her mouth?!!” the other two roared loudly and aggressively, outraged.
“Watch the road!” Elain screamed at Azriel, who turned a furious gaze at Fenrys.
“Okay, it wasone time!” Fenrys argued defensively, “she only swallowed, she didn’t even do anything,”
“She only swallowed?” Ruhn bellowed. “What else is there?”
Fenrys began to play with Elain’s hair and breasts again, shrugging impetuously and saying, “No one is stopping you. How’s that my problem?”
“I am at work!” Ruhn yelled.
“Well, then have babygirl suck you off when you are not at work,” he recommended logically.
“As a reminder,” Azriel’s voice interrupted them all, “we don’t show our woman to anyone. She is ours. Cover her tits now,” that was an order.
Fenrys had the good sense to cover Elain’s breasts with the bikini top and that was that. He kissed her and then Azriel invited them all to sing. Which they did. With Elain mangling every song and all the lyrics.
*
That day at the beach was the best day after that stupid fight that they had.
Since that day when Azriel had lost his temper and acted like a douche, Elain had chiefly avoided him. Not demonstratively, not in some petty ‘door slamming’ way, but she did and he felt it. Also, she kept feeding him shitty foods from bags and boxes–when the others got nicely seared steaks or marvelously grilled swordfish with herb butter, or mushroom and asparagus risotto, he got chicken nuggets, fish sticks and turkey meatballs from a bag. He ate it all, overplaying his enjoyment and guilting her for serving that crap to him. What pained him more than a soggy mush of a fish patty on his plate was that she certainly didn’t sneak into his bedroom anymore after that one time. She didn’t kiss him. She didn’t hug him. Fenrys lounged on her lap when they watched TV. Ruhn crossed his long muscular legs on her thighs and then inevitably, she’d curl up against him. Damn Fenrys, of course, got very very comfortable with showering with her every morning. Azriel was perfectly aware that Fen now had his toothbrush, his hair products and his shower gel in her bathroom. Which was fucking unacceptable. Meanwhile, he got nuggets.
But Azriel longed for her. Wanted the touches, the smiles that would be just for him. He wanted to pull her to him and wrap his arms around her. He wanted to bite that juicy ass again. He wanted so many things…Not the least of which was the constant grating desire to bury himself inside of her. He thought about it endlessly. He thought he’d have a lot more self control, and this denial wouldn’t be as painful as it was. It was actually horrible. She was right there . In front of him, in her ridiculous tiaras, those stretchy pants that drove him wild and set his imagination on fire, not to mention the days when she wore the little flowery dresses. When she rolled dough, her whole body tensing and relaxing, stretching and making some very wonderful things to her cleavage–those days were both pleasure and torment to Azriel. He had jealously watched her teach Fen how to make fresh ricotta, and then have Ruhn taste the sauce that she was making, holding the wooden spoon to his lips, as he licked it, his gaze devouring her. In the garden, the three of them played bocce, arguing viciously, running around with a ruler, measuring scrupulously and then inevitably getting into fights. He pretended like he ‘needed to work’. He didn’t. But he didn’t want to burden her with his presence.
And so, Azriel missed his wife.
*
At last, they were here, piling out of the car, getting bags and baskets from the trunk.
They found a nice spot, though while Elain was spreading their towels and blankets on the sand, a pissy lady grabbed her son, muttering loudly enough for them to hear ‘come Blake. We are not sitting next to criminals!”
Fenrys wiggled his brows at her and murmured in a sinister tone, “Lady, you don’t know the half of it. Run along, Blake! Otherwise, you might want to become like us,”
The woman added a little gas to her speedy walk, dragging Blake by the hand, while Blake was watching the three giant, tattooed muscular men with wonder in his eyes.
Elain laughed, and told him to stop scaring children and impressionable housewives. Then she added, “but she wasn’t wrong!”
The good thing was that Ruhn alone could clear out all the undesirable neighbours in a 50 meter radius, just with a look and a flip of his long hair.
All the noise and banter stopped, when Elain pulled off her tank top and then shimmied out of her little white shorts, revealing her super sexy curvaceous body to them–all her ample, soft goods tucked into a little bubblegum pink bikini.
“Boys,” she giggled, “you are staring at me like hungry wolves,”
“Girlie, you are hot as fuck,” Ruhn managed to utter, tearing off his clothes and dropping on the towel next to her.
“What he said,” Fenrys agreed.
“You’ve all seen me much nakeder than this,” she reminded them with a laugh, while Ruhn stroked her back and snuck a kiss to her hip.
“That’s why the beach sucks,” Fenrys sighed dramatically. “We could be home and you’d be way, way more naked than this and we can touch you too.”
“Well, I love the beach!” she announced.
“Let me lather you up, babygirl,” Fenrys offered, taking out a tube of sunscreen. The next moment, a scarred brown arm shot out and wrapped around his wrist, as Azriel said, “allow me”.
Fenrys pouted, but opted not to argue and handed the sunscreen to Azriel. Then he rose and announced that he is going for a dip! Ruhn sighed and decided that he’d go as well.
Azriel stood, waiting for her to go after them, but Elain remained seated, her eyes glued to his nude body. He just stood there, letting his woman look at him, enjoying how her eyes roamed over his chest, the tattoos that slithered from his neck, to his pecs, and down his muscular arms. He had fewer than Ruhn, but still plenty, and done in a different style–all black, many resembling flames–a memory that was forever etched on his skin in ink and in scars. On his right hand, the tattoos wrapped around his forearm and slithered all the way to his hand and his fingers. He left most of his left arm undecorated, so that all the scarring was plainly visible.
In her usual manner, she just reached out with her finger and traced the outline of his deep V, running her finger to the edge of his swimming trunks.
“They call it Apollo’s Rope, you know!” she told him.
He smiled and stroked her head, gently cupping her face.
“I think it’s the Adonis Belt, my darling,” he said.
She frowned and shook her head, “No, It’s Apollo’s Ro-”
“You are right,” he agreed, because why not?
She kept studying him, and normally, he wouldn’t have been comfortable with such close scrutiny, but with Elain, he actually enjoyed it. She was so odd and so innocent, that he never had to be embarrassed with her, or expect any judgment from her.
“Az,” she said quietly, looking up at him, “you know, you are the most beautiful.”
He didn’t know how to respond, but also knew that she wasn’t finished.
“You have the most beautiful face,” she informed him thoughtfully. “You look like a gorgeous dragon,”
“Gorgeous dragon?”
She nodded, “yes! The most stunning and wonderful dragon. And your feet are also most beautiful! And your hands too,”
He looked down at his sand covered feet. His feet were fine, he supposed, but,
She reached down into the sand and drew her palm over his feet, his toes, before sliding up and over his calf.
“Fen thinks he is the most beautiful,” she whispered conspiratorially, “but to me, you are. Always you.”
Something warm and soft bloomed in his chest. Because Fenrys was the handsomest man of them all, or at least, the most conventionally attractive. Yet an admission like that, from Elain, made Azriel’s heart beat faster, and there was a wave of heat that washed over him.
Then, she quickly added, “but don’t tell Fen, okay? Promise?”
“Okay, I promise,” he smiled. God he loved it when she touched him. Those little hands on his legs, his feet – they did something to him and made him both lustful and insanely protective over her. Because she was his and he liked her just the way she was; strange and loving and vibrant.
“May I?” he asked, showing her the tube and she nodded.
He squirted a bunch of coconut-scented cream on his hands and then sat behind her, which was probably wise, because his cock kept hardening, especially when she touched him and when he couldn’t tear his eyes from her full cleavage, and those sweet silky soft globes which were gently cradled in the hot pink fabric.
He hesitated for a moment, before touching her immaculate skin with his gnarly, burnt hands which had done unspeakable things, things that she had no idea about. Azriel had killed, and he’d tortured, and he’d fought, and his hands were covered in the blood of his enemies.Truth be told, he wasn’t terribly broken up about the violence that he’d inflicted on others. He was rational, practical and pragmatic–he understood that some people had to die, and he knew that some people had to be punished. There was information that needed to be beaten or cut out of some people, and fists and knives and guns had to be used to resolve issues and disagreements. He did not enjoy killing or maiming, but he also didn’t cry about it. Sometimes, it was his turn to suffer and bleed and he accepted that as well. He’s been shot five times, knifed at least a dozen times, his knuckles were like an elephant’s hide, and more scars peppered his body than he cared to count.
But his sweet flower girl was something else. She was innocent and pure, and not only sexually, which was the least of his concerns, but mostly emotionally…unique in her approach to life, where she always saw magic and light, where she existed without knowing how to play games or how to be malicious. And he wanted that light for himself, wanted to preserve it and bask in its glow, because it was so precious.
“Az, are you gonna do it?” she demanded, jerking her shoulder.
He smiled and couldn’t help himself, as he planted his lips on her shoulder and then the back of her neck.
He’d made a mistake once with her. He wasn’t going to do it ever again. Not like that. Because even mild rejection hurt like a bitch. Cut his heart. Destroyed his well-being for almost a week. He couldn’t sleep, barely ate (and it wasn’t because of the chicken nuggets), was so irritable, everyone was attempting to avoid him, and when they couldn’t, they tried to get out of his sight as soon as possible. He might be a scary, violent, brutal dude, but his men liked him, and trusted him and were exceptionally loyal. He didn’t want to break that trust because of his terrible mood and his domestic squabbles with his wife.
“Are you going to lotion me or give kisses?” she demanded.
“I am going to start by giving kisses,” he decided, as he kissed the tender spot behind her ear, and watched her nipples pucker beneath the bathing suit. Slowly, he rubbed his hands over her arms and then began working on her back, while kissing her cheek and her neck, making her gasp softly.
“Am I forgiven?” he murmured in her ear, gently biting the lobe and pulling on her little diamond earring with his teeth.
“I am not sure,” she breathed. “You’ll have to do more,”
“Then I will do more.”
“More good stuff,” she warned.
His hands wrapped around her stomach and he tucked his face into her shoulder, kissing it and promising, “whatever you want. Also, it’s Adonis Belt,” and he bit her neck playfully.
“No it’s not!” she argued and pushed at him, as he laughed, and lathered her belly with the sunscreen. “It doesn’t even make sense because it’s not a belt!” she argued.
He laughed into the warmth of her braid, and then crawled around her, so they were face to face. He grabbed her by the hips and tugged her closer to him, forcing her thighs apart, as she wrapped her legs around his.
“I wanna do you,” she offered, an adorable blush spreading over her cheeks and her neck, and he watched the progression as it flooded her chest.
“I hope so!” he smirked.
She blushed even more and pushed him with her foot, but he caught it in his hands and brushed the sand off the sole, before pressing a kiss to her toes. He drew his hand up and down her smooth thigh, whispering, “just taking care of my girl,”
“Rogue,” she murmured with a smirk, but he knew that she liked the attention, and if her soft moan was anything to go by, she liked his touch even more.
“Give me your hands,” he ordered, and she bit that delicious lower lip of hers and gave him full jazz hands, which made him chuckle. He squirted lotion on them and then moved even closer, so they were just about chest to chest, and he wrapped her thighs around his waist, holding her close. Elain’s soft little hands smoothed over his shoulders first and he almost gritted his teeth as a tidal wave of blood rushed from his brain to his dick. Firstly, he was at a public beach, with kids around, so sporting a massive boner was ungainly and inappropriate. Secondly, he didn’t want Elain to know what sort of insane reaction she caused in him with her closeness. He hasn’t gotten his dick wet, well, he didn’t remember when the last time was, if he were being honest, but it’s been a while. And his flower was sweet and ripe and ready for the plucking, if the heady, glorious aroma of her arousal was anything to go by, and those perky nipples straining against the bra. But, she already had the upper hand in everything–he was totally bewitched by her and would do absolutely anything for her. He was fine with that, but he didn’t necessarily want everyone else to know where his great weakness lay. Because Elain was an unexpected and enormous weakness in his armour, and it scared him just how much power she held over his whole being. He already knew that should something happen to her, he’d burn down the world and destroy everything in his path to save her. But if someone decided to use her against him, he’d be powerless, for he would sacrifice everything to make sure that she was alright.
He stroked her thighs, his fingers slowly, but determinedly crawling over her silky skin and towards her tempting ass, until he clasped it in his hands possessively and pushed her even closer to him.
“I am busy, you are messing everything up,” she complained, undeterred by his sensual machinations and his extremely close proximity, though her heartbeat galloped so audibly he could actually hear it, despite the waves of the ocean and the noise around them.
“Kiss me,” he ordered, his voice so low and deep, it sounded crazy even to him. But he couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand not tasting her, not being even closer to her, not touching that wonderful body.
She looked up at him, finally tearing her eyes from his chest, over which she was smearing the lotion now, and the brown eyes blinked, regarding him seriously. And he prayed that she didn’t find him wanting.
Then, unexpectedly, she leaned forward and smacked her lips low on his chest, to the left. He looked down, brow furrowed in confusion, because that’s not what he meant,
“I kissed your heart, Rogue,” she murmured, and kissed it again, in the same spot. “Now the ice is melting around it…I can feel it come alive and beating strongly!”
“So you have,” he instinctively placed his palm on his chest, trying to hold on to her kiss. She smiled at him and then, Azriel couldn’t help himself any longer. He crushed her to his chest, squeezing her so tightly, he figured that he was probably hurting her, but he couldn’t stop. His lips descended upon hers, smashing into her soft, willing mouth and he battered through her meager defences, sweeping his tongue inside and pulling her into his lungs, stealing her moan and her breath. Her arms wrapped around his head, and she gave into the kiss, clinging to him, kissing him with a hungry desperation of days lost. He pulled them down onto the blanket, so the two of them lay on their sides, in each other’s embrace, and he held her close, without breaking the kiss. Her lips were rows of plump cherries, all snuggled together and he couldn’t help but nibble and lick them, losing his very sanity in the process. He grabbed her soft, round ass cheek and thrust his hand under the bikini bottom, pulling her closer to him, his solid cock pushing into the warmth between her thighs, nestling comfortably into her wet pussy. Her hips jerked and she pulled away from his lips for a second, watching him wide eyed, as he gently drove his dick along the seam of her folds, letting her familiarise herself with it. She stroked his face, watching him, as he kneaded her bare flesh, and then went back for another kiss. She tasted of sea brine and strawberry lip gloss and she tasted like…his wife.
For a moment, he wished that theirs would be a normal courting, with dates and gradual falling in love and all the experiences that neither one of them had with each other. And he wished that he could’ve dropped on one knee in front of her and proposed properly–surprising her, making her all flustered and adorably shocked and excited. He supposed that bypassing all of that in favour of actually having her as his wife was worth it, yet still, there was something to be said for the tidings of an ordinary life.
“Well, well, looks like the Mr. and the Mrs. have patched things up!” Fenrys laughed, standing and laughing above them, dripping water all over the place and making Elain shriek.
“You know, it’s a public beach,” Ruhn reminded them, suddenly Mr. Prim and Proper. “You are basically inside of her,” he arched his brow, nodding at Azriel.
“My man,” Azriel groaned, as he released Elain just a smidge, “if you think that this is being inside of someone, it’s been a while since you’ve experience the sensation,”
Fenrys laughed and slapped Ruhn’s back.
“Ruhn here is like 9/10 in looks, and 3/10 in game!”
“Excuse me?” Ruhn whipped his head to the laughing Fen, and threw a fist in his kidney.
“Auu,” Fenrys doubled over, but couldn’t stop laughing. “Hitting me won’t change the fact that you have no game!”
“Fuck off,”
“Snapping your fingers at girls so they rush over and suck your dick isn’t ‘game’ my man,” Fenrys argued.
“Isn’t that the very definition of ‘game’?” Azriel turned on his back and tugged Elain to him, holding her close.
“No, the definition of ‘game’ is having ladies swoon over you. It’s not just pounding into them and leaving them be. That’s why you don’t date,” Fenrys shrugged and began rummaging in a large bag that they brought with them.
Ruhn crossed his tattooed arms on his naked chest and pouted,
“I do date!”
“You have never been on a date.”
Elain was laughing softly at their bickering.
“That’s why,” Fenrys took out a ball from the bag and rolled it between his shoulders and then started bouncing it on his head, “your idea of a date with Ellie was to take her to Subway!”
Elain was laughing, and so was Azriel. Fenrys had a point.
“He also took me to a museum,” she protested, “and that was very nice and romantic,”
“Exactly,” Ruhn waved his arms around.
“Nah, she is just cock blinded,” Fenrys argued. “So she thinks that Subway is an appropriate place to go for a first date,”
“I am absolutely not cock blinded!”
Just then, a few cute young girls in revealing bikinis passed by, giggling and giving both Fenrys and Ruhn very obvious and unrestrained looks of interest.
“See, I can have them,” Ruhn nodded smugly, once the women were out of earshot.
“Yeah, probably,” Fenrys kicked the ball expertly with his feet, like a footballer, before catching it with his shoulder, then his head, bouncing the ball over his back and returning back to his feet.
“Show off,” Azriel muttered, watching Elain watch Fen with amazement.
“But will they come back for more?” Fenrys now bounced the ball on his broad chest, then his abnormally sculpted abs, making all the females in his vicinity pause what they were doing and watch them. “Because, unless that’s all they are looking for, most women don’t just want the D,”
Elain rubbed her foot over Azriel’s ankle, snuggling closer to him, as she watched Fenrys definitely show off, and asked,
“And what do women want, Fen? Have you figured it out?”
“They want to be romanced,” he said simply. “And heard.”
“Hmm,” Elain hum-phed her agreement. Azriel looked down at her briefly and then kissed her hair.
Fenrys positioned the ball on his hip and then asked,
“Alright, babygirl, do you want to play ball? Volleyball? Or do you want to make out with Az?”
“Make out with Az,” Azriel immediately proposed, but Elain sat up and then eagerly exclaimed,
“Yes, I am super athletic, you know, so I think I would be really really good at volleyball!!”
Azriel and Ruhn exchanged looks, because ‘super athletic’ was not how anyone would ever describe Elain. But she was already up and jumping around Fenrys, who raised the ball up in the air and she was attempting to grab it.
Fenrys was laughing loudly at her miserable attempts, while she pushed at him aggressively and then latched onto his neck and literally began climbing him. He still managed not to let her reach the ball, but she kept climbing him, even as he started walking, wrapping his other arm around her.
“Are you coming?” Ruhn asked Azriel, who still lounged on the blanket.
“Nah, I’ll watch the great athlete from here,” he chuckled and Ruhn laughed loudly. Unlike Fenrys, he shared Azriel’s amusement at Elain’s boasting of her non-existent talents.
“So…you all good?” he asked just in case, eyeing Elain, who was riding Fen’s back, still without having gotten to the ball.
Azriel shrugged, “We’ll see. She kissed me and that’s good enough.”
Ruhn jogged towards the other two, snatching the ball away from Fen and causing a cry of outrage from Elain.
*
Azriel leaned on his elbows and watched the three of them.
As expected, Elain was ridiculously terrible at volleyball, and he was sure that she’d never played before. What she lacked in skill though, she certainly compensated in sheer enthusiasm. She totally didn’t care that she was losing the ball or hitting it way off side and often into the ocean, so that both men were drenched, having to go and fetch it from the waves. She yelled and laughed happily, and Azriel was pleased that he was able to offer her this experience. It was Ruhn’s idea and at first Azriel didn’t know if Elain would be interested, or how the whole dynamic would work, but here they were and it seemed to be going well.
Fenrys’s comments from before made him think though.
Elain was his wife, and she satisfied him plenty–and they haven’t even had sex yet. He knew deep down that he would never cheat on her and as unglamorous as it was, he was a one woman man. After Morrigan had died, it took him a long time to recover, though truthfully, he didn’t think that he ever would. Following her death, he swore off any long-term, monogamous relationships and only ever had casual flings, too terrified of pulling yet another innocent woman into his net and having her end up dead or maimed because of him.
In the past year, he was mostly fighting off his father’s demand that he marry and solidify an alliance with a powerful family. He was offered many a bride, from every family–Italians, of course, two from the Mexican cartels, the Irish mob, the Russians, the English, and Italian Italians. All were terrible choices and he was so fucking stressed for the past seven months because of these endless negotiations, which were going to directly affect the rest of his personal life, as well as the lives of his brothers, that his sex drive took a nosedive.
And now he was watching his wife, and it was like a dream.
This ethereal, beautiful, remarkable oddity was his–truly his, and he couldn’t believe his luck. Every night he got up and walked to her room, and watched her sleep. He’d sit in the chair by her bed, shivering in the cold night air, but needing to make sure that she was there, and that she was real, and that she was his.
But, he did need to think of his brothers. Both of them had voracious sexual appetites, particularly Fenrys, though Ruhn wasn’t far behind. Right now, Elain was a novelty. She was undiscovered and amazing and a nut to crack. However, he wasn’t sure what was going to happen when the nut did crack. Would they return to their usual ways? And how would it affect the dynamic between the four of them? How would Elain feel if she knew that Fen, her beloved Fen, of whom she couldn’t get enough, screwed her, and then went off and fucked someone else?
At least he’d made them all get tested before the wedding, to make sure his virginal wife was protected. Because she sure wouldn’t have been thinking about it, and neither would Fenrys probably, in a rush to claim her. Though he needed to give his brothers credit where it was due–they always wrapped it and were careful.
The ball bounced near him, having sailed allllll the way here from where they were playing it, right by the water. Wow. She really was bad at this!
Ruhn jogged toward their spot, and when he reached Azriel, with a moan he groaned,
“Senza parole!”
At that, Azriel barked a laugh.
“Perché?” he asked, though he kind of suspected what the answer would be, since Ruhn was speechless.
“Non sa giocare !”
Ruhn was correct, she really couldn’t play.
“I don’t know if she’d ever touched a ball?? Let alone played with one,” he was shaking his head in disbelief.
“Well,” Azriel pursed his lips, frowning, “according to Fen, she’s been playing with his.”
“Ugh, Fenrys is as delusional as she is,” Ruhn waved his hand. “I wouldn’t put too much stock in what he says. I mean, she also thinks that she is a great athlete!”
He tossed the ball to Azriel and commanded, “Go, take her for a swim. I am an old man, I’ve been shot 12 times, and I have no energy for the Elain King version of volleyball!”
Azriel was laughing at him, but he got up and ran to Fenrys and Elain.
“I told you I was really good at volleyball,” she put her hands on her hips and puffed out her chest.
“You are! He is wiped out,” Az took her by the hand and said, “come swim with me,” though just as soon as these words left his mouth, he waited with bated breath to hear her say what an amazing swimmer she was. Because if she did, then he’d know that she’d sink like a rock the moment she stepped into the water. But Elain waded into the ocean and dove right in, and he went after her, to make sure that she was okay. But she bobbed up to the surface and began swimming confidently and Azriel chose not to say anything.
They swam further, beyond the pale of screaming kids and housewives in ugly swimsuits. Elain flipped to her back at last, and spread her arms, soaking up the sun with a smile on her face.
“This is the best day,” she breathed.
Azreil stroked her cheek and then gently kissed her lips.
“What was your favourite day, Az?” she asked, looking at him, her smile wide and bright and content.
He took her in his arms and she wrapped her arms and legs around his body, her breasts pressing into his chest.
“I don’t mind when you call me Rogue,” he winked and she laughed.
Then she kissed him and said, “yeah? Are you a rogue?”
“I sure am, ma’am,” he affirmed, stroking her wonderful behind in his palms.
“Well, then you will be Rogue, when you do something naughty,” she promised, and he fastened his lips to her neck, sucking and kissing until she buckled in his arms and threw her head back, moaning.
“I can be very naughty with you, flower,” he warned.
“Answer the question!” she ordered, while he kissed her along the collarbones, his nose disappearing in the salty water, and he didn’t even care.
“What was a happy day for me?” he repeated thoughtfully, pondering. Recalling unhappy days was much much easier, because he’s had so many of those. But a happy day…
When I met you , he wanted to say. The night when you greeted me in that velvet cobalt dress and my world changed forever.
He didn’t say those things though and instead, shared with her,
“I was a teenager, 16-17 I think. We went to England, with Fen. And I went to see Cream , at the Royal Albert Hall,”
“Cream?”
“You know,” he began, but she interrupted him,
“Yeah, Clapton, Ginger Baker,”
“You know Cream?” that was a surprise.
She winked at him and said, “I know a lot of things,”
“Well, that’s good, because that was probably the best day of my life. Just listening to them, dancing in the aisles…Fucking glorious!”
“I am jealous! I wanna see them too!” she pouted and he smiled, squeezing her chin, “You would’ve been a baby back then. Maybe 9?”
“So what! I never get to do fun stuff,” she winced and sighed.
Azriel wrapped his palms around her head and looked at her, before he asked,
“Flower, tell me, are you on the pill?”
She shrugged and shook her head no.
“No, I am not sick!”
He smiled and pressed his forehead to hers, as they bobbed slowly in the waves.
“It’s not what I meant,” he murmured.
Finally it dawned on her and she blushed, and quickly said,
“Oh…no. No I am not. Should I be?” she asked nervously. “Should I not be? The anti-baby pill,”
He burst out laughing and repeated, “ Anti-baby pill ?”
“Nesta said I wasn’t permitted,” she explained and at that, his brow furrowed and his hazel eyes lost some of their warmth.
“What do you mean she said that?” he demanded.
Elain’s blush deepened, but he kept her close, arms caging her, as he waited for an answer.
“She said I wasn’t allowed to make that decision. That my husband would tell me,”
“What the fuck, Elain?” he growled. “It’s you body,”
She bit her lip and asked,
“Are you mad? Should I be on it?” she stroked his wet hair and said, “don’t be mad. If I have to,”
“No,” he snapped, interrupting her, “it’s not about me , Elain. It’s about us, and it’s our decision,”
She looked at him, uncertainty clouding her chocolate eyes,
“But Nesta said I have to have a baby,”
“How about we fuck Nesta?” he proposed icily. “I don’t see how it’s Nesta’s decision?”
“She said I have to give a baby to my husband to solidify the alliance. My father said the same thing,”
“Is that what you want to do?” he inquired, calmer now, though his heart was aching for her. It didn’t seem like she was ever allowed to make an independent decision, without the interference of her sister and father. Forceful interference.
No wonder she lived in her head, in the never-never land of free choice, where she could dance and sing and excel at everything! Where she was an amazing athlete, and a great card player (she wasn’t, and Ruhn vouched for that), where she drove fast cars and had the freedom to simply be, without judgment or expectations.
Timidly, she whispered, “I don’t know.”
“Elain,” he pressed, “it’s a simple question–do you want to have a child right now? With me?”
She stroked the back of his neck with her cold fingers and then answered at last,
“No. I am 24 and I don’t want to have a baby right now. But I want to have a baby with you. But I want to live and experience life and be with you, and them,” she nodded vaguely towards the beach, “and…” she thrust her face into his neck then muttered against his skin, “can I, Azriel? May I?”
He pulled her face away from his shoulder and looked at her,
“Do you forget that you are my queen?”
She shook her head.
“And do queens ask for permission?”
“No,” she said boldly.
“That’s right. Queens rule! What’s the most important piece in chess?”
“The Queen,”
“Exactly! You are the neck and I am the head. Whichever way the neck turns, the head follows. Never forget that, flower.”
“Yes,” she was nodding eagerly, eyes shining.
“We are going to go and get you an IUD, flower, and then we can fuck around for as long as we want, until we are all ready for that baby. And then we are going to make one with love, when we all want it.”
She squeezed him tightly, kissing him wildly, his face, his lips and ears and his hair, blazing with joy and complete happiness.
“Promise me one thing though,” he grinned at her, kissing her hard and bruising her already swollen lips.
“What do you want, Rogue?”
“Rogue wants to request that he no longer eats fish sticks and chicken nuggets!”
Elain smiled, pretended like she was thinking about this and then nodded,
“Okay. But you are on thin ice, buddy.”
They swam back at a slow, leisurely pace.
*
Unsurprisingly, as they approached the beach, Azriel noticed a gaggle of girls who surrounded his brothers. The girls giggled and posed, while Fenrys showed off his ball handling skills, and quite a few eager fingers were skimming over Ruhn’s massive arms and tattoos. The girls wanted attention, clearly splitting in two almost equal groups–those who favoured the brash, bright, blond Englishman with a ball, and those who fell under the charms of the dark and mysterious, handsome gangster type bad boy.
Azriel was pretty sure that they were demanding or offering phone numbers.
Just as his toes hit the soft sand beneath the water and he pulled his wife to him, he was surprised–and pleased–to watch Fenrys, of all people, laugh off another pass from an overly eager female and raise his left hand, pointing to the platinum wedding ring that he now wore. Ruhn followed his example and waved his own finger at them, clad with a black carbon ring, which, ‘shockingly’, he designed himself.
There were disappointed frowns and moans of dejection from the women, but Ruhn opened his arms and shrugged apologetically.
It was Thursday night and Azriel had a plan.
He was pretty sure that it was going to work. And maybe, eventually, it would get him laid.
He had a long and boring day, with no-joking 9 meetings! Truthfully, it was eight meetings too many, but he’d managed, though his mood worsened as the day progressed. Yet, after five, he got his second wind and began plotting. His last ‘meeting’ of the day was in fact in one of their buildings. He took one of the unmarked elevators down, walked through the basement, then down again, and punching in the code, he finally entered Ruhn’s bloody domain.
This is where Ruhn conducted his nefarious deeds–the Dungeon, as he liked to call it–contained a few cinder block rooms, where he made people talk, or punished them. Before Azriel could enter, Ruhn opened the door and greeted him with a satisfied smile.
“Got the info!” he pulled off his black gloves, which were dripping blood and said, “you don’t need to go in there–you’ll mess up your suit.”
“Okie dokie then,” Azriel didn’t argue. “Let’s go to our girl,”
The pitifully moaning man was left behind and forgotten, while Ruhn pulled out his phone eagerly and showed Azriel a photo of a cake.
Almond cake for my boys it said and Ruhn smiled, saying, “pretty girl baked! I fucking love almond cake!”
Azriel chuckled. He wasn’t aware of Ruhn’s particular passion for almond cake, but if ‘pretty girl’ baked it, it was guaranteed to be good. On their way out, Ruhn barked orders to the guys to clean up and deal with the man in the room, and Azriel was glad that his tenth meeting of the day was rather short.
They went upstairs, and while riding in the elevator, Azriel said, “We need Enalius”.
“What do we need that gluttonous chunker for?” Ruhn was barely paying attention, scrolling through his phone, which was filled with photos of Elain, in various states of undress, smiling, as he elbowed Azriel, “look”.
Elain was naked, or looked naked, holding two doughnuts over her breasts, her lips porno-pink and smeared in powdered sugar, which also resembled cum.
“Jesus fuck you two are weird,” Azriel shook his head, looking at the photo, though some part of him was a little envious, because he didn’t get pictures like these from Elain.
They came inside the office building and then Azriel called out,
“Enalius! Come here, big guy!”
“He is not gonna come,” Ruhn shrugged.
“He’ll come,” Azriel rummaged in his pocket and then called out again, “En-nali-us! Come, big boy. I got tuna treats for you! Your favourite!”
Ruhn gasped, grimacing and muttered, “tuna treats smell rank!”
“I am not asking you to eat them,”
They waited for a couple of minutes, until Ruhn pointed to the left and smiled,
“Ohh, ohh, he comin’!”
A portly white cat hurried down the hall, making all kinds of dangerous turns and skidding on the polished terrazzo floors, but he galloped towards tuna treats like a young pony.
Azriel caught him and tucked him under his arm, and fed him a treat for his arrival.
“Yaeh, like he needs more tuna treats!” Ruhn was shaking his head, while Azriel hefted the cat and they strolled to the courtyard and toward the house.
“You know, you can just fuck her,” Ruhn noted calmly. “She is your wife. Wives are supposed to fuck their husbands,”
Azriel bummed a cigarette from his brother and popped it between his lips.
As Ruhn lit it for him, he took a deep drag and then said, “I don’t want to just fuck her.”
“Then what do you want?”
Without glancing his way, Azriel said quietly, “I think I want her to love me”.
*
As soon as Ruhn opened the door, the two of them were faced with loud ruckus, and Elain flying by them, with Fenrys at her heels. He leapt over one of the sofas, trying to cut through the vast sitting room, but she made a Tom Cruise-worthy slide on the floor and rounded the corner of the dining room table. Like a sprinter, Fenrys bounded over a chair and landed belly first on the counter, but Elain screeched and scrambled away from him, escaping the reach of his long arm and screaming ‘Sucker!’
As she raced past Ruhn and Azriel, she yelled, ‘who is that?” pointing to the cat.
Azriel let Enalius jump down on the floor and Elain screamed, “time out! Time out!”
“There are no time outs!” Fenrys lunged at her, but Az stood in his way and Fenrys landed in his embrace.
“What is wrong with you two?” Ruhn moaned.
“Fuck you guys!” Fenrys cried with desperation. “If I was going to catch her, she was going to learn how to give blowies!”
By now, Elain was on the floor, petting Enalius, brushing his luxurious white fur, while huffing with indignation,
“I promised no such thing!”
“You did too!”
“I did not!”
“Did too!”
“No!”
“Yes!”
“Liar!”
“You are!”
“No blowies!” she shouted.
“Yes, blowies!”
Azriel ignored them and squatted at Elain’s side, tipping her chin up and then smiling at her,
“How are you, beautiful wife?”
“I am good, husband,” she smiled back and wrapped her arm around his neck, bringing him closer to her. “I’ve missed you.”
“I’ve missed you too, flower,” he whispered and lightly touched her lips with his.
Elain kissed him deeper then, wrapping her large soft lips over his and lightly licking him with the tip of her tongue. He parted his lips for her and she slipped her tongue inside, caressing his, sucking gently, her arm tightening around him. Damn right that’s how she should greet him everyday! With Enalius hissing, because he was squashed between the two of them, Azriel wrapped her in his arms tightly and lowered her on the cold marble floor, without breaking the kiss, while he cradled the back of her head in his palm, so she wouldn’t hurt herself. Enalius hissed his annoyance and escaped, running towards his favourite–Fen.
“Come on, fella,” Fenrys scooped the cat and looked at Elain and Azriel who writhed on the floor, lost in their kiss. “They don’t care about your pretty innocent eyes!”
Azriel’s hand travelled under Elain’s skirt and he wrapped her leg around his hip, kissing her ravenously, absolutely giving no fucks that Ruhn and Fen, and Enalius, were right there, and lazily watching them and the show they were putting on.
“Pretty girl, do you want to clean my sword?” Ruhn called out, as he undid his belts and straps, and went to make himself a drink. “Or should I do it?”
Elain tore her mouth from Azriel’s and turned to take a look at the sword,
“Is it bloody?” she demanded, while Az kissed her cheek, slowly migrating down to her neck and lightly sucking a playful mark into her tender skin.
“Very,” Ruhn winked at her and licked his lips.
“Then I will clean it!”
This was Elain’s new favourite task–cleaning and caring for their weapons. As with the cars, she named them all, and had different wiping clothes and polishers for each type of weapon–swords, knives, guns, hammers, bats…
Azriel smiled at his little bloodthirsty wife and then lifted himself off of her and gave her his arm.
“Are we ever gonna eat?” Fenrys was pouting, seated on the sofa, with Enalius lounging in his lap, “or do I just have to watch your makeout sessions?”
“I am sorry, you were just chasing after her, looking for a blowie,” Azriel reminded him, as he took off his jacket and unbuttoned his shirt. Elain skipped to the bar and poured him a couple of fingers of whiskey, handing the heavy tumbler to him.
“Thanks, love,” he kissed her again.
“I wasn’t even looking for one,” Fenrys kept pouting, having been cruelly thrown off course and having zero chances of receiving the said blowjob. “I was going to teach her,”
“With a banana or your dick in her mouth?” Ruhn smirked, landing on the sofa too, gulping his drink down. He’d washed his hands, but the aura of blood and violence still clung to him.
“Well, not a banana,” Fenrys started, and Azriel interrupted,
“Then you did want a blowjob!”
Fenrys waved him off, while Elain plopped on the sofa next to him and started playing with Enalius.
“Is it my kitty cat?” she asked.
“No, babygirl,” Fenrys handed her the cat. “This is Cassian’s cat. He is obsessed with him. Enalius lives where the guards live, and he needs to go on a diet, because they consistently overfeed him,”
Elain laughed, wondering, “What kind of name is Enalius for a cat anyway?”
“Oh, Cassian reads all kinds of military books, and apparently Enalius was some hero who defended some mountain,”
“Aww, I love it!”
“And Cass is convinced that he is this Enalius’s descendant,”
Ruhn was laughing, adding,
“And he named his furry son after his hero.”
Azriel jogged down the stairs, taking two at a time. He had changed into gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and was barefoot.
“Do we eat?” he asked loudly, “or do we have a dance off?”
Elain stilled, wide eyed and demanded, “What dance off?”
Azriel dropped on the floor and did like a dozen pushups for shits and giggles, before announcing, “I am feeling energetic!”
“Clearly,”
“So,” he rose and stretched his arms and shoulders, “I figured we can have a dance off,”
“You are going to lose, Rogue!” she said immediately. “I am a really good dancer!”
A smile twitched in his lips and he agreed, “I know! You are an amazing dancer. That’s why I want to dance for a prize,”
She rushed to him and got on his tiptoes with excitement, bouncing up and down,
“What prize, Rogue? What’s the prize?”
Azriel put his hands on his hips and offered,
“What do you want, if you win?”
She paused the bouncing and stopped to think. She thought and thought, and finally said,
“I wanna go on a job with you!”
“No,” he said immediately.
Ruhn winced, anticipating an argument.
“You said anything !” Elain snapped.
“I didn’t,” Azriel reminded her coolly. “I asked what you wanted?”
“That’s what I want! I want to go on a job!” she pressed.
“Elain,”
“Azriel,”
“It’s not up for debate,” he insisted, while Ruhn was shaking his head behind her.
“Then I am not dancing off, and I don’t care!” she grunted, and turned on her heels, ready to walk away.
Then, Azriel’s heavy hand lay on her shoulder and he squeezed and pulled her back.
“Fine,” he gritted out.
She turned around violently, eyes sparkling, cheeks pink.
“Truly?”
“It’s going to be at my discretion,” he warned. “I’ll decide what the job will be at, but yes, if you win the dance off, then you can go on a job.”
“You are not lying?” she frowned.
“I am a man of my word.”
She squealed loudly and clapped.
“Do I get a gun?” she asked immediately.
“Don’t push it,” he cut her off.
She pouted, but didn’t press her luck.
“What are you going to get if you win? Which you will not !”
“I totally will,” he assured her confidently.
“You will not. I am a great dancer! And there is no way you’ll win!”
“Well, when I do win, you will be going on a date with me.”
She stared at him, slightly confused, but then tsked and said,
“You won’t win, so no date.”
“We’ll see,” he sang lightly.
Elain scratched her head, and asked, “Who is going to judge?”
“Well, certainly not those two,” he jerked his head toward his brothers, who were watching this battle of wills from the sofa, both scratching Enalius’s back. ”One wants a blowjob, and another wants to pound you,”
“Umm, excuse me,” Ruhn protested feebly.
Az ignored him and rubbed his chin, before proposing, “Enalius will judge. Once we are done, he can decide who was better,”
“That’s stupid,” she argued, “Enalius doesn’t understand dancing!”
“He very much does. Trust me. Now, are you up for it?”
“Yeah,” she nodded. Snapping her fingers at the brothers, she ordered, “Make sure that Enalius watches closely.”
“Of course, pretty girl,” Ruhn nodded.
“Choose a song, Fen,” Azriel ordered and Fenrys started looking on his phone, while Az suggested, “clear out and give us some room…When this goes down, it will be,”
“Yeah, hot!” Elain made some kind of a Spice Girls pose, jutting out her leg and lifting her arm.
“Alright Posh Spice!” Fenrys clapped, whistling.
Sofi Tukker’s ‘Best Friend’ came on and Azriel immediately lunged into a handstand, and jumped and twirled, leaving Elain gaping at him with amazement. But then she emerged from her stupor, and hopped on the couch, before sliding unsexily down on the floor and lifting and crossing her legs, and then crawling under the coffee table, swinging her hips to the beat.
Both Ruhn and Fenrys were huddled in the corner, moving to avoid the twirling Azriel, who threw himself on the floor and did a fancy spin on his back, while Elain, not to be left behind, jumped on the coffee table and slipped, almost falling on her ass, but recovered quickly and waving her hands, she whipped her hair dramatically, making sure that no one noticed the fall.
At that time, Azriel claimed the middle of the room and with one elegant jump, he leapt on the vacated coffee table and started rolling his hips, hand on his hips.
She bit her lip and frowned. Shit, he was good!
So she saddled a padded sofa back and proceeded to ride it like a mechanical bull, attempting to roll her hips just as sensually as freakin’ Azriel, but it looked like she was bouncing on a pogo stick instead of doing a sexy hip swirl.
Undaunted, she tried to do a cartwheel, but succeeded in pushing a bunch of books off a side table with her foot, spooking Enalius, who lurched in Fenrys’s embrace and almost jumped out, but Fen held tight, watching Elain roll on the floor as she recovered from her cartwheel. Jumping up, she shook her hips and drew her hand down and between her breasts, going into a dip a little too aggressively, and falling back, but undaunted, she did another roll on the floor, while Azriel went into a full plank, and did some crazy one arm press-ups, before shaking his ass and simulating a full sex act with the rug. That display threw her off her game, and she stared at the gyrating man in front of her, as he displayed spectacular pelvic thrusts.
The song was winding down, so she gave it her all, throwing her legs as high up as a Rockette, as she added YMCA hand signs and full jazz hands to the number. Azriel did an Elvis hip thrust with an arm windmill and then slid the length of the room on his hip, finally coming to a stop and dramatically throwing his head back. She dropped to one knee and stilled in a fancy pose, with
Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was.
The faelights gilded Elain’s unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.
…her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away.
…He didn’t need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.
Elain’s large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.
*
I think it’s worth noting how SJM decided to subtly emphasize how Azriel views and acts with Elain and in fact, how deeply their feelings actually run.
Firstly he certainly sees her as something beautiful and desirable. We are in his head for the very first time, and when she approaches, he hears her, before he sees her and becomes poetic (again). Upon seeing her, he immediately notices her reactions to him (bobbing throat) and her quickening pulse. Both, of course, indicate interest and nervousness–we are, in fact, ‘told’ by SJM that Elain is attracted to Azriel before we even know that he desires her as well.
But let’s examine this further.
Even though we are in his head, she is the one who is driving the interaction. She is the one who came downstairs, she is the one who spoke first. She is the one who brought his present and the one who handed it to him first. She is the one who told him to put the necklace on her. The one who pivoted into his touch, and the one who gave him offer and permission.
This also aligns with her buying him a gift last Solstice, and even prior–her taking his hand, her standing up silently and going with him to the garden. Back then, he might have offered, but she was the one who took the action.
There is a sense of equality throughout the entire scene. And even though he becomes aroused, we know that she does too.
I think it hints at an interesting dynamic between the two of them–he is perceived as very dominant and harsh at times, and she is viewed as soft and passive, but their interactions would actually imply something else. It seems like she might actually be pulling the strings in that relationship. For the lack of a better term–Azriel is a simp.
Secondly, in only a paragraph or two, we find out one very important thing–they can understand each other without words. Both are so acutely aware of the other’s emotions and ‘tells’ that the normally unreadable Azriel is an open book for Elain. What’s more–he knows it, and he doesn’t try to hide it. Both of his brothers, whom he’s known for over half a millennia, repeatedly point out how he is impossible to read and how his ‘mask’ covers all his inner thoughts and emotions. Here, we have Elain, who’s known him for less than two years and she’s been able to break through the shields just like that.
This again hints at the depth of their attraction to each other, but also Azriel’s inability to keep her out. That, to me at least, is indicative of Elain’s powerful presence and actually somewhat dominant nature, which has always been hidden and underestimated. She’s been able to barrel through his barriers, without trying very hard, or at all.
I am very curious how this dynamic will play out in the future.
Remember when I said I should’ve turned the Headcanon Oh Baby into an actual fic…? Well, here we are! I decided to use @elriel-month as the opportunity to do so, as there may or may not be a part 2 coming out next week to wrap up the month celebration (can you believe we’re at the end already? ). Anyways, this has some small differences to the original HC, but follows it fairly closely. Hope you enjoy it. I truly adore this little family.
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Trigger warnings: tooth-rotting fluff
Word Count: 3,080
Azriel remembered the day Elain got pregnant was the day everything in his life changed. Their morning had started normal, waking with the dawn, making love in their bed. Twice—it was always multiple rounds with them—before rising out of bed to get ready for the day. He had left to tend to some stuff for Rhys and returned to find Elain hunched in the garden.
He landed on their terrace as she was walking towards the house. A breeze shifted her hair, sending her honey and jasmine scent floating over to him. Az inhaled it deeply, and went ramrod straight, staring at her.
“Azriel?” she called out to him, head cocked to the side. “Are you quite all right?”
Shadows swarmed out of him, flitting to her side, around her protectively. They sang the news in his ear, but he already knew. He could smell the beautiful, innocent, new scent that had delicately weaved with hers. His eyes flicked over her body, looking for any changes he knew were too soon to be seen, but sought out anyways. And then he was moving towards her, dropping to his knees before her as some sappy, pathetic sound came out of the Night Court’s deadly shadowsinger.
She seemed startled by his actions but gripped him tightly, offering him comfort for whatever was wrong just the same.
“Elain,” he choked out, tears welling in his eyes. “You’re pregnant.”
The Seer blinked down at him, hands settling on his shoulders. “I—what?”
His arms wrapped around her waist, fingers splaying across her lower back. “You’re pregnant, Elain. We’re going to have a baby.”
Silver lined her brown eyes, the golden strands reflecting the sun’s rays. “A baby?” she reiterated.
He nodded, rubbing his hands up and down her hips. “A baby.”
They had talked about kids but never made any official plans about actively trying to have any. The Mother, it seemed, continued to gift her favorite Archeron.
Elain threaded her fingers through his hair. “Oh, Az,” she cried, falling to her knees with him. “You’ve made me so happy.” She kissed him, tugging him down on top of her right there on the grassy pathway of her garden.
Fingers laced and the sun high in the sky, Azriel made love to his beautiful, pregnant wife in the middle of her garden.
The next month when Elain returned to Illyria with him to continue her volunteer work at Rhys and Feyre’s orphanage was an ordeal in itself. They had decided to take a month off to get themselves situated, let their family know of the news, and help prepare Azriel for overcoming that territorial nature ingrained into him.
It wasn’t easy.
The moment they landed in Devlon’s camp, he went full Illyrian—as she so kindly put it. Snarling and snapping at anyone who got too close to his Elain and the new life she then carried.
Most of the Illyrians took in her new scent and the shadowsinger’s wrathful stare and kept a healthy distance away from her. But there were a few that dared to toe that line and came out worse for wear as a result.
Elain couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the antics, muttering Illyrians under her breath as she made her way into the orphanage.
In the few years that she helped out here, she had taken to the young children, but one more so than the rest.
Little Kaden couldn’t have been more than four years old but was much smaller than the other children his age. She had suspected of malnourishment before he was brought in, something she made Azriel aware of. Kaden was incredibly shy, kept to the back of the group, and never spoke.
To anyone.
About three months into her pregnancy, still not even showing at this point, she approached the little boy, clutching a tattered book to his chest. “Hi Kaden,” she greeted, squatting down to put herself at eye level with him. “What do you have there? A book?”
A small nod was her only response, not that it had surprised her. Elain smiled at the little Illyrian. “Would you like me to read it to you?” she asked, sitting down on the floor.
The boy hesitated but eventually caved and crawled into her lap, falling asleep within a couple of minutes of her reading. Her motherly instincts had her cradling his sleeping form to her chest, carding her fingers through his hair that was as dark as her husband’s was.
That was how Azriel found his wife that afternoon when he returned to the orphanage—holding the snoozing Illyrian child, his small hand clutching the front of her dress. He looked at them fondly, seeing the beginnings of this beautiful bond between the Seer and the little one. His heart swelled with pride not just for the work his wife was doing at the orphanage, but also for giving these children a maternal love they never had.
Over the next several months, Kaden seemed to be glued to Elain’s side. Even in the presence of Azriel—the fearsome shadowsinger held a reputation even amongst the children—Kaden stuck by her side, little hand gripping the swaths of her dress. She had asked him one night if that was common in Illyrian culture, to cling that tightly to someone.
It wasn’t. He worried that Kaden appeared afraid that Elain would be taken from him and that was why he was so attached to her.
“That’s awful,” she had said over dinner. “Do you think it has anything to do with his history and how he came to the orphanage? Why he’s there?”
Azriel took a sip of his wine. “It could be. There isn’t much information on him.”
“I’ve been reading to him for months. Spending time with him. And he still won’t speak to me. I’m worried about his development. Isn’t there anything we can do? Try to find?” Her hand rubbed her rounded stomach, growing with new life.
He smiled softly at her. “Of course, my love. I’ll see what I can find. I’ll ask a couple of my sources to look into it. See what they come up with.”
Unfortunately, the information doesn’t come before Elain becomes too pregnant to continue volunteering at the orphanage.
“I’m sorry, Lady Elain, but you’re nine months pregnant and measuring ahead of schedule. Having you outside of Velaris is risky should you go into labor,” Thea, her preferred Healer had told her. “That is my recommendation, but I will leave the decision up to you and your husband.”
With that, she bid them goodbye and let them hash out their plans.
“What about Kaden?” Elain worried.
The shadowsinger’s lips curled up. He cupped her face, thumb brushing over her cheek. “You are a good female, my love. A kind, generous, lovable, beautiful, female. And you will make the best mother—that I have no doubt.” Leaning in, he kissed her softly. “I will check in with the little one.” His thumb stroked her cheek again. “Stay here with the twins. Settle in and prepare for the baby. Let me handle what’s left on the to-do list outside of the house.”
She huffed out a breath. “Well, when you put it that way.” Elain pushed her way off the sofa, her husband instantly there to help her up. “If I can’t go back, then I need to give you something to take to Kaden,” she announced, padding her way over to the kitchen.
Though he knew Kaden would be looking for his wife, Azriel is still surprised to feel the tug on the pant leg of his leathers the next morning when he shows up at the Orphanage without Elain. He smiles, kneeling to make himself less imposing for the little Illyrian. “Hello, Kaden.”
As expected, he gets no vocal response, but he knows exactly what the child wants to know. “I’m sorry Kaden. Elain is too pregnant to come to visit right now. But she did give me something to give to you.” He pulled out the wrapped cookie, baked with love and devotion by his beautiful wife the night before.
Kaden gave him a toothy grin, took the cookie from his outstretched hand, and mumbled the smallest “Tank you,” the t-h sound not coming through.
Azriel is stunned into silence, especially when Kaden threw his arms around his neck before running off to enjoy his treat. Still kneeling, he watched as the little one disappeared, running through all the possible individuals in his head that he could ask to look into his past. He needed to know—for his sake, for his wife’s. For Kaden’s. He needed to know how he ended up here, what happened to his parents, and how they could help him.
“I can’t believe he spoke to you!” Elain complained, sitting against the headboard of their bed, arms crossed over the heavy swells of her breasts. “I’ve spent months with him. Months, Azriel! You bring him one of my cookies and he speaks!”
Azriel chuckled, striding in from the bathing chamber to their bedroom in a pair of his drawers, his golden-tan, tattooed skin on display. He crawled over her, trapping her in the strength of his arms, his body, and kissed her; let his tongue stroke hers. When he pulled back slightly, he smirked at her. “Guess he just likes me more.”
Elain’s face scrunched in disdain and she placed a palm on his chest, shoving him over to his side of the bed. “I dislike you,” she muttered.
He barked out a laugh. “Now that’s a lie and we both know it.” Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her snugly against his chest, letting her rest her belly on his stomach to offer her some relief. His beautiful wife, the mother of his child. They drifted together into a blissful sleep cocooned by his wing and the scent of their nearly arrived baby.
~~~
Two weeks later, Az was in the kitchen preparing breakfast when his shadows went wildly out of control. He flipped everything off as one curled around his ear, whispering in that singsong voice of it, Elain.
Panic erupted in him like nothing he’d ever felt before. “Elain!” he called out, running through the house.
And then he heard it—her screams of pain.
The shadowsinger tore through their home, finding her at the back in the library. She was hunched over the table there, hand gripping the side of her stomach. A small puddle of clear fluid was on the floor beneath her. His eyes widened as he took in the scene. “El,” he murmured.
She was panting heavily. “Az.” Her eyes were shining.
This was it. The baby was coming. He sent a thought to Rhys down their mental bridge that he left open for him, asking him to summon the healer, then swooped down to lift her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. He stripped her dress off her, leaving her in her shift, and then gently laid her on the bed, propping her up with pillows to make her as comfortable as possible.
Elain touched his cheek, catching his attention. “You ready to be a father,” she asked, a lovely smile growing on her face.
He gripped her hand in his fist, a watery laugh bubbling out of him. “We’re having a baby.” Leaning down, he rested his brow against hers, savoring that last moment before they became parents.
A short while later, an exhausted yet elated Elain placed a beautiful, healthy baby Illyrian girl in his arms—the Cauldron once again blessing its favorite Archeron with a relatively easy birth.
With her father’s dark hair and skin tone and her mother’s eyes, she was easily the most beautiful thing Azriel had ever seen, and he sobbed in utter joy as he held his newborn daughter for the first time. “Hello little one, my little love,” he wept to her. “Daddy loves you so damnmuch.”
Elain swiped the pad of her fingertip over her daughter’s plump cheek, letting her husband have his moment with her.
Those hazel eyes, filled with tears, love, and so much happiness gazed down at his wife. “Have you settled on a name?” he finally asked. They had gone back and forth on two for weeks now until Azriel decided that Elain could decide after the birth.
She smiled nodding, propping her chin on his bicep. “I have. Rosalie Archeron.”
“Rosalie,” he repeated, letting the name curl off his tongue. “It’s perfect. She’s perfect.” Leaning down, he kissed Elain slowly, deeply. “You did so well, my love. Thank you for this. For giving me this life—this gift,” his gaze shifted back to the sleeping baby in his arms, so tiny in comparison to their size.
Elain snuggled into his side as they just stared at their daughter, peacefully dozing in her father’s presence.
They spend the next month on a babymoon at their cottage, sending both Rhys and Cassian to the orphanage to check in on Kaden, though neither was successful in their attempts.
When Elain finally returned to the orphanage, she immediately went in search of him, a pink bundle still in her arms.
The Illyrian brightened immediately at the sight of her, running to grab at her skirts.
“Hi, Kaden,” she said, kneeling in front of him to bring her daughter to his eye level. “I’ve missed you.”
But the little one’s hazel eyes are glued to the face he can see through the swath of blankets. “What’s her name?” he asked in a voice so soft that Elain almost missed it.
She’s so surprised by it that it takes her a second to answer. Once she shook off her stupor, she told him, “Kaden, this is Rosalie.” Elain tilted her daughter up a little more so he could see her better.
“Wosawie,” he repeated, his r’s sounding more like w’s.
It tugged at her heartstrings, seeing how intently he looked at her, how he tried to pronounce her name. She carefully watched as his fingers traced over the soft fabric of her blanket, not daring to touch the baby herself. From the entrance, Elain felt a shadowed figure observing them, the Night Court’s spymaster keeping watch over the intimate moment between his wife, daughter, and the little Illyrian.
Elain ruffled Kaden’s hair. “I need to get some work done if you want to help me,” she announced, setting Rosalie down in one of the cribs. A single shadow lurked beneath the swaths of blankets, Azriel’s form of protection when he was away. As she made her way to the doorway, she realized he hadn’t followed her. Turning around, Elain saw Kaden was still standing by her daughter’s crib, guarding it like her own little protector. She cocked her head to the side but left him to it.
Over the next several weeks, Kaden watched over the Seer and the shadowsinger’s daughter like it was his duty. Elain stood hip propped against the door jam as she studied them when she felt her husband appear at her side. “Do you think they’re mates?” she asked, curiously but also concerned knowing her first mate wasn’t a good match.
Azriel crossed his arms. “No, they’re too young for it to be a mate thing.”
Some underlying worry whooshed out of her at that. She looked at him. “You know something.”
His jaw feathered. “Kaden’s mother was forced into a marriage with his father. They had him early on. She ended up falling in love with another male and got pregnant. When his father found out, he killed her and the unborn child in a fit of rage.”
“Oh my god,” Elain breathed, horror coiling in her gut. That poor female. Her brown eyes found Kaden across the room; looked at him with sorrow.
“He dropped Kaden off here afterward, not wanting anything connected to his unfaithful wife,” Az continued. Tension radiated off him in waves of pure, untamed, fury.
“Was Kaden present for it? The killing of his mother?” she asked, though Elain had a feeling she already knew the answer.
“Yes, he was.” It was barely controlled rage in her husband’s tone. Shadows swirled around his ankles, the talons of his wings. “I think Kaden could smell your pregnancy and clung to you, afraid that you would be ripped from him like his mother was. And now he’s watching over Rosalie.”
The sibling he never got.
Elain was struggling not to cry—something that wasn’t a result of the hormones still raging in her body. “Is his father still alive?”
Azriel was looking at the two children when he answered, “For now.” He had to release a breath, turning to face his wife who watched the children with sorrow. “You want to take him home.” It wasn’t a question. Az had a knack for reading her so well.
She took his scarred hand in hers, looking up at his face. “Yes. He adores Rosalie and I adore him.”
The wrath on the shadowsinger’s face from earlier vanished at her words. “And I adore you,” he whispered, pulling her closer to kiss her. “Two kids. Do you think we’re ready?”
“There’s nothing we can’t do, my love,” Elain breathed, taking his face in her hands and pressing her lips to his again, further proving just how much their love could conquer all.
“I’ll go speak with the head mother of the orphanage. Go wait with them and we’ll tell him together.”
Elain squeezed his hands. “I love you, Azriel. So much.”
“I love you, too, Elain. And I love this family. Thank you, my love, for giving me this.” He threw an arm around her waist, tugging her close to him. The Seer and the shadowsinger watched over the two children with awe on their faces and love in their hearts as their family of three became four.
Now Azriel stood in the doorway of the nursery, watching as Elain rocked their children in the large rocking chair, Kaden perched in her lap against her chest, Rosalie already fast asleep in the crook of her arm. She was reading one of their son’s favorite bedtime stories. He smiled as took in the scene in front of him. Az never thought he’d get this life. Have this beautiful, chosen family with the love of his life. And the Mother knew he would never change a thing.
~~~~~
Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it.
I’m not doing a tag list anymore because they’re really more trouble than their worth. For notifications, you can follow and subscribe to my fanfic account where I will be reblogging updates and snippets only. You can also find me on ao3.
As I write this, it saddens me to know that this is my last @elriel-month fic. This month went by so quickly, and there was such amazing content produced from it. I want to recognize all of the fantastic people who participated in Elriel Month, both in producing content and those who consistently like, comment, reblog, share, etc. the work that is produced. It’s been such a fun month, and a huge thank you to all of those who put it on. A lot of time, effort, and work goes on behind the scenes to keep these appreciation monthsrunning. Y'all are amazing.
Now on to the fic. This is part 2 of Little One. I’ve had this fic written for months and I’m super excited to share it with you. Please let me know your thoughts!
Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Trigger warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, some descriptions of canon-typical violence, very minor adult descriptions
Word Count: 4,127
Elain sat at their kitchen table, a gurgling Rosalie tucked in the crook of her arm, Kaden sat across from her munching on some freshly baked pastries, cured meats, and sipping on fruit juice. A cup of tea rested against her palm as she smiled down at her son who happily hummed while eating his breakfast, bare feet kicking under his chair. It was just the three of them this morning, Azriel having been called away by their High Lord for an urgent meeting at nearly the crack of dawn.
He apologized profusely for not only waking her so early but also for having to leave her, to which he made up for with his head between her legs as the sun broke the horizon, casting an orange glow into their bedroom.
“How do you like your pastries, Kaden?” she asked, readjusting her swaddled daughter who had started to fuss in her arms. Though thoroughly sated, once the shadowsinger left their bed this morning, Elain knew she wasn’t going back to sleep and decided to get up and try out a new pastry recipe for breakfast.
The little Illyrian flashed her a big, toothy grin. “I wuv them, momma!” he shouted excitedly, crumbs smeared on his pink lips.
Elain couldn’t help the way her heart swelled at being called momma by him. It had taken quite a while for Kaden to grow comfortable in his new home. He had been living with them for right around five months now and had only begun calling her “momma” a few weeks ago. He had yet to bless Azriel with a fatherly name, much to his dismay, but they both knew that with Kaden’s early childhood ordeal, his attachment to Illyrian males would be a slow one. It would come, he just needed to be patient she assured him.
They also took introducing Kaden to his new family slowly, only allowing them over one at a time so as to not overwhelm him. Meeting Elain’s sisters and Mor went easily enough, but that wasn’t where they were concerned. Though Rhys was the High Lord and half Illyrian, Kaden was clearly more intimidated by Cassian’s larger stature and permanent presence of wings. The general, hoping to bond with the little one, proceeded to sit on the floor with their son for an hour and played with the stuffed bear he brought with him. It wasn’t until Nesta showed up looking for her husband that Cassian departed, happily receiving a shy hug on his one leg before he left.
“I’m glad, sweetie. Maybe next time I make them, you can help momma? Would you like to do that?”
Little hands hit the table in excitement. “Yes! Yes, pwease momma, can we?”
She smiled down at him with so much love. “Of course, baby.” Elain propped Rosalie on her shoulder, running a soothing hand down her back as the terrace door opened and her husband entered. “Look, Kaden. Daddy’s home. Why don’t you go get dressed now so we can head out soon?”
Despite not calling Azriel “daddy” yet, both he and Elain had decided to refer to each other by paternal names in hopes that it would encourage him to make the connection as to who he was to them, and who they were to him.
He was their son.
And they were his parents.
No matter the blood or lineage, nothing would change that.
“Okay!” He wiggled from his chair and made a mad dash from the table to his bedroom as the shadowsinger approached, a soft smile on his face watching Kaden run from the kitchen.
Azriel dropped a kiss to her lips, and then one to the top of Rosalie’s head, his fingers brushing her rogue wisps of curls. “Good morning, my little love,” he whispered.
She couldn’t help but smile at their daughter’s coo of greeting. “What did Rhys need you for so early this morning?” Elain asked as they began clearing the table of the breakfast spread.
Hazel eyes met her gaze and something twisted in her stomach at the worry she saw there. “There’s been a scuffle at one of the Illyrian camps,” he stated, setting dishes in the sink.
Elain’s brows furrowed. “How bad?”
“Rhys, Cassian, and I are about to head there to handle the situation.”
The inflection of his voice told her that there was information left unsaid. “There’s something else.”
Azriel huffed, leaning back against the counter. His strong arms crossed over his broad chest. “It’s the camp that Kaden’s biological father is at.”
The thought of that awful male made Elain want to find her son, cradle him in her lap, and never let go. “Do you think we should be concerned?”
He ran a scarred hand through his inky locks. “He’s a camp Lord and we are within the twenty-four-hour window of the Blood Rite, which means he has magic and can winnow. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” Those golden irises blazed in fury.
“Lorenzo didn’t want anything to do with him. Why would he be making a fuss now?” It didn’t make sense. That male lost any right to claim Kaden as his son when he dropped him off at that orphanage and didn’t come back. Elain had later learned that her son had been there going on a year now and the Lord hadn’t made a peep about his child. It was both heartbreak and rage that had warred within her at that knowledge.
The shadowsinger shrugged. “Maybe word got back to him that he was adopted?”
“He left him at an orphanage!” she hissed, patting Rosalie’s back when she started to squirm.
Azriel took a step closer to her, his hand touching the back of his daughter’s head. “I think it could be about who adopted him too,” he said a bit quietly.
Elain’s heart twisted. She knew what he was hinting at. That the camp Lord wouldn’t deem Az worthy enough to raise even a child he gave up. “If he believes you unworthy to love that boy then I’ll kill him myself.”
The corner of his lips turned up briefly. “I will never stop being grateful for your devotion to me, my love.” He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. “I know you don’t like to be sidelined and that you can protect yourself, but I think you and the kids should stay away from Illyria today. I just—” a frustrated hand ran through his hair. “I can help but worry that the scuffle at the camp is to pull me away from you three at the orphanage.”
“Az,” she breathed, reaching out to grip his forearm, thumb swiping soothing strokes over his tanned, tattooed skin. “You’re scared.” It wasn’t a question.
He ducked his head. “Of course, I’m scared. He’s my son. Our son. I will do anything to protect him, Rosalie, and you.”
Elain nodded in agreement. “We don’t take chances here, not when it comes to our children. If you think there’s a risk with the three of us going to the camps, no matter how small, we won’t go. I won’t put our babies in danger.”
Her husband let out a sigh of relief, tugging her and Rosalie into his arms. He kissed her softly, conveying all his love and emotion for her and their little family from his lips. When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers. “Feyre said she has a morning class with some younger children at the studio today and that you’re more than welcome to bring Kaden by to paint.”
“I think he would like that. Maybe we’ll take a stroll through the Rainbow and the park by the Sidra, too.”
It was rare to see the Night Court spymaster drop all his masks and show his true self. A male so full of love, joy, and devotion. But since the birth of Rosalie, and the adoption of Kaden, Elain had seen it more and more on Azriel’s face. It was her favorite look on him, one he tended to wear when he fed and rocked his little girl to sleep, or when he’d peek in on his son as he slept, checking to make sure he was okay. It was the same look he wore now.
“I think that sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Padded feet tore down the hallway and slid into the kitchen. Both parents turned to look at a disheveled Kaden.
“Azweel! Can you but-tin my wing slots, pweeze?”
A low chuckle rumbled from Azriel’s chest as he stepped out of her embrace. “Sure buddy, come here.”
Kaden’s undeveloped magic prevented him from being able to button the flaps of his shirt around his wings alone. He’d be able to eventually, but for now, either she or Az would have to help him, not that they minded.
“Wings up,” Azriel said, reaching underneath the membranes to snap the flaps together.
“Where are your shoes?” Elain asked, once his shirt was secured.
Little, tanned toes fluttered on the stone floor. “By the door, momma.”
Her husband helped Kaden tug on his shoes as Elain secured a now sleeping Rosalie to her chest, allowing both her arms to be free. It was a wrap that Feyre swore by when she had Nyx, and Elain was inclined to agree. Having both arms available while she ran errands was indeed a lifesaver.
After explaining the change of plans to Kaden, he reached up and took Azriel’s ring and pinky finger in his small hand. “Are you coming with us?”
Her husband knelt, “Sorry, buddy. Uncle Rhys needs daddy’s help right now.”
Kaden’s lower lip jutted out in a way that Elain knew Azriel struggled to say no to. Even now, she could see the war of his vow to his High Lord and the need to protect his son dance across his face with his desire to stay with them.
He cleared his throat. “Tell you what; as soon as I’m finished with your uncle, I’ll meet up with you guys and we’ll spend the rest of the day together. How does that sound?”
The little Illyrian brightened, and he shouted in glee.
Az tugged him to his chest, kissing him on the top of his black hair. “I’ll see you later, son. I love you.”
“I wuv you too, Azweel.”
He stood, turning back to her.
“Be safe,” Elain said lowly enough to not let Kaden overhear them.
Az nodded. “I will. I’ll come home as soon as I can.” He slid a hand to her jaw to kiss her, careful of their daughter between them, then pecked the top of Rosalie’s head. “I love you,” he whispered to them both, before vanishing into the shadows.
Elain’s stomach turned restlessly. Something about the whole situation still didn’t feel right, but she would stay strong for both her husband and her son. Swallowing her nerves, she took Kaden’s hand to make their way into the bustling streets of Velaris.
~~~
The three of them strolled through the park along the glittering waters of the Sidra River having finished their painting session earlier and a delicious lunch at a small café moments ago. Kaden’s painting was sitting at Feyre’s studio, which Elain was to go pick up in a few days once it was dry. It was mostly strokes of colors and handprints, but she still thought it was the most beautiful artwork, biased or not.
Warm rays of the sun beat down on them, bringing about a flush of color on her skin and the golden hues on both of her children’s darker complexions.
Kaden had taken off, chasing after a colorful butterfly.
Elain followed the sounds of his giggles. “Stay close, Kaden!” she called when he got a bit too far for her comfort.
Ever the good listener, he rounded back towards her, stopping to look at a small coping of rose bushes. “Look, momma! Woses!” he shouted, the r sound still coming out like a w. It was something they were working on with him.
“Yes, they are, good job!” she said back, stopping beneath a shaded tree for some much-needed cooling. Kaden had taken to her garden and she took the time to teach him the names of the various plants and flowers she was growing.
Elain placed a hand on the top of Rosalie’s head, feeling the warmth of it. It was an unusually balmy spring day, one that predicted the early onset of summer.
A blip on the horizon caught her eye. She watched it as it came closer, membranous wings flapping to send it hurtling through the sky towards her.
Elain’s head cocked as she studied the movement, so unlike her husband’s elegance, Cassian’s strong presence, or even Rhys’s regal grace. Brown eyes widened as she realized who, exactly, was flying towards her.
Towards her son.
She was moving then. “Kaden!” she screamed, “Kaden, come here, right now!”
At his mother’s distressed voice, he turned, running towards her.
With a hand holding onto the back of Rosalie, Elain cradled Kaden’s head and shoved him behind her just as the Illyrian male slammed into the ground in front of them. She felt the impact through her feet.
The park was fairly empty, but the few fae present took off at the sight of the unknown Illyrian, leaving her utterly alone with him.
Kaden’s fists gripped the skirts of her lilac dress, and though every instinct in her told her never to back down from a threat, she would not risk it with both of her children in the line of fire. Elain stepped back, moving her son with her.
The male, a version of what her son may one day have features of, savagely grinned down at her. A sharp jaw, high cheekbones with a long nose. His hair was worn similar to how Cassian kept his, but a shade or two lighter. He wasn’t as large as her husband, she realized. Az had him beat by several inches and his shoulders weren’t nearly as broad. But even with that knowledge, everything about the male in front of her screamed warrior.
Dangerous.
Threat.
Her magic rumbled in her chest in response. The siphon on her ring flared once, throwing up a thin barrier between them and him—Azriel’s magic sealed away for when she needed it. The shadow that adorned her finger as a wedding band vanished.
“So,” he drawled, sounding utterly bored. “I finally get to meet the pretty, little pet that has captured the heart of the bastard-born shadowsinger.”
Elain snarled at the taunt. “Watch your tongue, Lorenzo,” she snapped.
That malicious grin grew. “And you’ve heard of me. Perfect. Hand over my son, and I’ll be on my way.”
She angled herself, shielding Kaden further behind her. “He is not your son. Unless you have a death wish, I suggest you flap your way back to where you came from.”
The smirk faded and something far deadlier took its place. “My blood runs through his veins—”
“Blood doesn’t make you a father,” she spat, vehemently. “You lost your right to claim him when you left him at that orphanage. Kaden is mine and Azriel’s son. Now and forever.”
“If you think I’m going to let you and that pathetic excuse of an Illyrian raise—”
Her blood raged like a weathered storm. One that toppled the largest of ships and swept armies into the depths of the sea. Her magic responded in kind, light bursting out of her and shoving him back a step. His eyes widened at the surprise drop she got on him. “That pathetic excuse of an Illyrian is a thousand times more of a male than you could ever dream of being. And if you say one more thing like that about my husband, I will gut you here in this park.”
The red siphon flickered on his chest in response to her attack. “Do you have any idea who you’re speaking to?” he demanded, voice edging dangerously close to levels Elain knew meant he was about to lose his temper.
She curled the corner of her mouth up. “A low-level camp lord with a single siphon? Yes, I know exactly who I’m speaking to.” She threw as much disdain in her voice as she could muster. “I think the better question is, do you know who you’re speaking to?” At his silence, she grinned. “Cauldron-blessed Seer. The Mother reincarnated. And what are you here doing? Trying to take a child away from his mother. Believe me when I say I won’t let that happen.”
“I’ll end you and your brat if need be,” he countered, taking a step forward to try and intimidate her.
But Elain had felt another’s presence as he neared. Saw in her peripheral vision the dark swath of shadows above their heads. “You hurt me or my daughter, you take my son, and I can promise you that you won’t make it out of Velaris alive.”
Before he could respond, a solid mass of muscle and wings dropped from the sky, forcing Lorenzo to take a step back lest he wanted to be smashed beneath Azriel’s large frame. Her husband’s knees bent as he landed, absorbing the impact. As he stood to his full height, his wings stretched out, blocking her and their children from the other male’s view.
The ground shook from his landing, and Elain felt Kaden push himself further into her legs. She brushed her thumb over the back of his head, hoping to soothe him with her touch.
“Get back,” Azriel growled, voice colder than what he used as the Night Court spymaster. Shadows skittered out, flitting around her and the kids, searching for any signs of injury. When they finished their assessment, they turned their attention back on Lorenzo, swirling like shards of ice, pushing him back, back, back. “Stay away from myson.”
“He is not your son.”
“We adopted him. We took him into our home. We fed him, and clothed him, and loved him. He is as much our son as our daughter is and nobody is going to take that away from us.” He took several steps forward, forcing the male backward again.
With the added space between them, Elain felt the shield in front of her reinforce itself.
“Momma,” Kaden croaked through the plaits of her skirts. Large tears filled his hazel eyes.
Her hand swept through his hair. “It’s okay, Kaden. You’re safe.” She pulled him closer to her hip, letting her other hand come down to rest protectively on his cheek. Her thumb brushed away the tears that spilled over his dark lashes.
Kaden buried his face back into swaths of her dress.
Thunder cracked like two boulders crashing together.
Elain’s head snapped to the side to see Rhys step out of rolling darkness, decked in his full Illyrian leathers. His lack of normal attire told her he had come ready for bloodshed.
“Lorenzo,” the High Lord drawled. “You’re far from home.”
The other Illyrian, seeing he was now outnumbered, grew even more furious. “I came to take what was is mine,” he fumed, reaching back for the sword sheathed across his back.
“He is not some object for you to collect,” Az stated furiously.
“He is mine,” the Lord shot back.
Azriel tensed, glancing back at her and then looking down at Kaden who was peeking at them behind her skirts.
Elain saw his hand twitch for the legendary dagger strapped to his thigh, but he didn’t grab it.
He returned his gaze to Lorenzo. “I’m not going to end your life here, no matter that you deserve it. My son has already seen enough bloodshed in his short life because of you. I won’t add to that.”
The camp Lord just smiled, “Then you’re only going to make him as weak as you are.” And then he struck, the Illyrian metal singing as it aimed for a killing blow—decapitation.
Seven blue siphons flared. Lorenzo went flying backward, his sword ripped from his hand by shadows.
“Daddy!”
“Kaden!” Elain screamed, reaching out to try and stop the little Illyrian from running into the fray, but it was too late.
His little legs carried him fast over the ground and Azriel barely had a chance to whip around before a little body tackled him. “Daddy!” he cried again, clutching at his leathers with small fists.
A blue shield shot up, enclosing her husband and her son in a protective barrier. He wasted no time lifting Kaden into his arms, a scarred hand threading through his black tresses to hold him close.
Tiny arms went around his neck as Kaden pressed his damp face above the collar of his Illyrian leathers. “I don’t wanna go,” he whimpered into his shoulder.
Azriel moved his hand from the back of his head to between his wings, rubbing strokes like he would when his son would wake with nightmares. “You’re not going anywhere, Kaden. Nobody is taking you from us.” He kissed the side of his head, allowing a few minutes to comfort his son.
Elain’s heart ached, wanting to go to them, but also not wanting to let a second child get too close to Lorenzo’s unhinged state again.
Azriel nodded towards her, assuring her that their son was safe.
It sent a wave of relief rushing through her.
He turned, finding Rhys hauling Lorenzo to his feet.
The disgust on the Illyrian male’s face at her husband holding their son made her hackles rise, enough so that her magic rumbled in response. She dampened it, not wanting to wake her daughter that somehow had stayed asleep through everything so far.
The look of the spymaster replaced Az’s hardened features. “I granted you a chance to walk away. I want you to remember that when your High Lord winnows you back to the camp to face him and your general. But if you come after my family again, you even have thoughts about my son, your life is forfeited.” Azriel gave his brother a curt nod, watching as the High Lord and Lorenzo winnowed away.
Shields lowered and both parents were striding for each other. Tears pricked her eyes as her husband embraced her and Rosalie with one arm, still holding Kaden in his other. Scarred fingers found her jaw, tilting her head up to bring their mouths together in a desperate kiss, needing to feel her presence. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes darting to check over their daughter.
“We’re fine,” she breathed, her hand reaching up to lay it on Kaden’s lower back, rubbing it. She glanced back up at her husband’s face, seeing a look of awe that had settled there.
He called me daddy, he mouthed at her, silver lining his eyes. He had been waiting for Kaden’s willingness to grace him with that name—had been getting antsy for it.
Elain let out a choked sound, gripping her husband’s wrist with her other hand. I know, she mouthed back.
Kaden twisted his head, propping his cheek on Azriel’s shoulder, his arms were still wrapped around his neck.
The shadowsinger dropped a kiss to his forehead as Elain let her nails scratch at his back. “I was going to suggest we go get a frozen treat after our walk,” she started, catching her son’s eyes. There was a far-off look that she didn’t like seeing. “Does that sound good to you, Kaden?”
The little Illyrian nodded, though he gave no vocal response.
It worried her, his unwillingness to speak. They had broken through so many barriers in getting him to open up after he came home with them—she hated the idea of this setting him back. “Do you want to see if daddy can join us?” she tried, seeing how he clung to his father, though she knew Az had no intentions of leaving them alone.
Not for a while.
She also knew Az was well aware of what she was trying to do too.
Kaden was silent for a moment, but both parents waited patiently, giving him the time to voice his thoughts. “Can you, daddy?” he finally whispered.
The shadowsinger visibly hugged him tighter, resting his cheek on the top of his head. “Of course, we can,” he choked out. The emotional vulnerability rang clear in his voice. Lifting Kaden higher up on his hip, Azriel took Elain’s hand in his scarred one and brushed a light kiss over her knuckles.
Her heart swelled. Resting a hand on the back of a still sleeping Rosalie, the family of four strolled through the park and spent the rest of the day enjoying treats and each other’s company.
~~~~~
Remember, sharing is caring! Please reblog if you liked the fic. It helps spread my work and I truly appreciate it.
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Happy! I am so excited for what this month will bring for our little family!
Our first week prompt is ! I hope you love this one as much as I do! I knew I wanted to add the red string of fate, as I love this concept so much!
This stunning art was once more created by the incredible talented @jessamyart ! Jess it’s always a pleasure working with you, every time you blew my mind with how you can read me and my crazy concepts to creat this gorgeous art!
So thank you Jess, I will always treasure you for helping me bring this to life. It’s always a dream working with you, and I cannot wait to see what comes next!
“ Azriel’s fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.
It had never gone this far. They’d exchanged looks, the occasional brush of their fingers, but never this. Never blatant, unrestricted touching.
This is for all my lovely, beautiful Elriels. Let’s keep going!
Please do not repost without permission.
PERFECT, GORGEOUS, EXCELLENT, AMAZING.
This is so beyond stunning, I’m just a mess right now. The bent leg, Azriel’s on the bed beside her. His hand on her ass (because he’s a certified ass man).
But also, Elain, your hands. Baby, you know EXACTLY what you’re doing.
I’m fine. No really, I’m fine. I was not attacked by this. It’s not like this is going to plague my thoughts now. No, certainly not.
@tswaney17 shes knows exactly what she’s doing with those hands (I mean, I would to Elain). Certified ass man is correct, it’s just a steady glide down the thigh from there
✨Thank you Katja for this absolute masterpiece. I am forever grateful! Thank you for bringing to life my vision, and making it even better.
This piece is inspired by the above scene, reimagined in a future where Elain and Azriel have found their happiness together– the triumph of choice over so-called fate.
As always, this is for my Elriels
reposts allowed ONLYwithtagged credit to @katjazartand me
ALT
