They’re yet to accept the bond but it’s arguably the strongest I’ve read about in the ACOTAR universe.
He declared her his mate the moment they looked into each other’s eyes.
I know there is an assumption that Elain’s turning Fey initiated the mating bond but how do we know that for certain. This was the first time they were both in the same room as each other and Lucien acknowledged the bond the first time he looked into her eyes. What’s to say this wouldn’t have happened regardless of Elain being changed fey. We can’t know because Elain’s changing was also the first time she’d ever met Lucien.
He was able to break the kings restraints to walk to Elain. No one else in the room was strong enough to do this except Lucien and when he broke the restraints Tamlin looked shocked as to how he could. Does this mean his bond to Elain is stronger than two high lords power? Because that’s a VERY strong bond…
Elain can feel the mating bond between her and Lucien to. She can hear his heart beating and when Lucien tugged on the bond she felt a tugging feeling around her heart. She might not understand the mating bond or even agree with it but she hasn’t denied feeling the bond.
I can understand the mating bond being wrong/faulty and I can understand the mating bond being rejected.
What I can’t understand is the mating bond being rejected when both sides are feeling such strong effects of it.
The strength of the bond has obviously caused Elain to avoid Lucien to the point where she refuses to get to know him and find out if she even likes him as a friend.
I wonder how Lucien and Elain would have reacted to one another if the mating bond didn’t exist or if Lucien hadn’t said they were mates. If Elain hadn’t felt forced toward Lucien would they actually be friends?
Rhys didn’t tell Feyre they were mates because he didn’t think she was ready to know. What might have happened if he’d declared them mates under the mountain after Feyre was changed fey? Would she have reacted like Elain has to Lucien? Would she have felt scared and stayed in the spring court with Tamlin?
How would Nesta reacted if Cassian had told her they were mates pre ACOSF?
With Elain’s Trauma and inexperience with the fey all the mating bond has done so far is create a wall between the two.
She refuses to get to close to Lucien because of the bond.
I personally think that Lucien and Elain’s bond is so strong it’s actually scared Elain from getting to know Lucien therefore causing any possible relationship between them to stall for however long it takes Elain to stop fearing/ resenting the bond.
Even Lucien was rattled by the fact he feels a stronger connection to Elain than his late wife and he was born fey.
If the bond didn’t exist between Lucien and Elain would Elain have visited the Spring Court? Or has the mating bond restricted her to the Night Court?
Despite her rebelling against the mating bond she still allows him to come visit on holidays and hasn’t rejected the bond.
I hear people saying if they were canon there relationship would have progressed more by now but how can they have any progression until Elain stops avoiding Lucien? There relationship can only evolve when Elain finally talks to Lucien.
This isn’t a jab at either sister but I genuinely don’t understand why Nesta always gets the main credit for killing Hybern. Yes she was the one who finished the job and got poetic vengeance, and it was a great moment for her. However, Elain dealt the first blow, and I doubt Hybern would have survived being skewered in the neck even if Nesta didn’t decapitate him. I can understand Elain maybe not wanting the attention from something like that, but the way its addressed is still weird imo.
If a male mc doesn’t voice concern over his love interest putting herself in danger, he sucks. I don’t want to read about someone like this. Thank god, me and Sjm are on the same page on this. Y’all can read your flavourless girlboss books elsewhere, cause Acotar ain’t for you, if you think like this, babes.
Azriel not being concerned or worried about Gw*n being kidnapped isn’t the serve some people think it is lol.
These are alpha males. They’re supposed to be concerned about the safety and well being of their love interest. This isn’t anything new in romance or for this series.
We get not one. Not two. But three different instances of Azriel being concerned for Elain. When she offers to look for the DT. When Nesta called her boring. And when Cassian tells him Elain and Nesta got into a fight. To the point where Azriel even has trouble calming down.
Azriel willingly weakened and disarmed himself for the sake of Elain, and her survival. He give up his magical dagger which comes with a lifetime guarantee of always ‘striking true’ and gave it to her. Knowing that his wings were messed up, he couldn’t really fly, he just came back from a serious fight, he was injured, and still potentially had to fight in a huge battle. And at that moment, he still decided to arm Elain–this girl who never held a dagger before. He could’ve given her any other knife, and she wouldn’t have known the difference. But the man is so concerned about her, her well-being, her safety, her survival that he willingly gave up something so precious to him, and something that could’ve definitely protected him during the battle.
He could’ve offered her ‘quiet encouragement’. He could’ve ran to Feyre and demanded that Elain be sitting in some wagon, surrounded by armed guards at all times.
He didn’t do any of it. He offered her practical means to defend herself, believing in her and her abilities. When push came to shove, Azriel knew that she’d come through and she did. He believed in her from the get-go, and she did not disappoint.
I wanted to close out the month how we started it with a magical Elriel MerMay piece! I hope you all enjoy this version as I am in complete awe <3 A huge thank you to @luxury_banshee for accepting the commission and absolutely breaking me with the result. The details are *chefs kiss*
What a wonderful and incredible month it has been and such a pleasure to share it with you all! I have so much love for this community Unfortunetly due to delays I missed a week of Elriel month, though the piece will still come at a later date ✨And there are plenty more INSANE pieces to come in June … and some collabs with @captnswreads
Characters belong to @therealsjmaas No hate will be tolerated on any art. Please do NOTrepost.
This is obviously stretching what is written, and is definitely a crack theory, but consider the following:
ACOWAR
This has been analysed before, in terms of Elain’s whispering cobalt dress and its parallels to Azriel’s siphons and shadows, but what if that’s not all?
Azriel, canonically, has “stone cold manners,” so why would conversing with Feyre’s sisters - human or not - be any sort of struggle for him, or make him so uncomfortable that he wanted to disappear entirely? Surely he has dealt with far more difficult people, and awkward situations, than two nervous humans who are inviting faeries into their home in order involve themselves with the Night Court’s political machinations?
It doesn’t make much sense to me, that this would be where he drew the line in terms of what he can bear, so what if - and again, Iknow this is a stretch-Azriel felt the echo of some sort of a bond with Elain when he first met her, though he didn’t know what it meant at the time. He only knew that it was new.
What if Az (and Elain!) each had a “and there she/he was” moment, but neither understand the significance?*
* Elain not understanding what she felt would have been because she was a human (ie. what even is a “mate”?), and Azriel because he likely doesn’t think he’s worthy of a mate, so he wouldn’t have considered it as a possibility, especially with a human. Feyre and Rhys could have been a fluke, for all we knew (until Nesta and Cassian), but at that time their bond wasn’t known, anyway.
We know from Rhys that faerie-human bonds are muffled, and he wasn’t certain that Feyre was his mate until after she was Made. Could Az have experienced the same thing? He’s been described as an “echo” of Rhys before, in terms of his power, but what if it’s also in terms of being mated to an Archeron sister?
It’s interesting to note that Cassian was grimacing, too, which could obviously be due to Nesta’s blunt words, but again: they are mates, and were drawn to each other from the start. Could Cassian, who - like Azriel - has surely dealt with far “worse” than a human not being a welcoming host (his experiences wouldn’t even be on the same page as Nesta with an attitude), have also felt something at this point?
In comparison, Rhys’ only reaction was to raise his eyebrows.
I don’t know. It could be nothing at all (I could be reading into it way too much), but it could also, potentially, beanother parallel between Azriel and Cassian, and their reactions to Elain and Nesta: like when they both went a bit still at seeing them at breakfast, or when they both reacted before each sister was threatened and thrown into the Cauldron, or when they both wanted to touch and taste and smell them, or when they have both been protective, or when they both made sure their wings were displayed to full effect in front of each sister, or when they both went on “certain death” missions for them, or when neither could stay away…
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.
~~~~~
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THE PULL OF NIGHT FROM DAY | Elain Archeron Lucien Vanserra Azriel of the Night Court
Today as I was doing the finishing touches on this painting that has been sitting unfinished for FAR too long, I was (fittingly) listening to the preview of the Elain episode of the @maastastic podcast over on their Patreon and it was getting me SO PUMPED for her book. It’s funny, because back months and months ago pre-ACOSF when I started this piece, my main interest in Elain revolved around who she would end up with and that was kinda…it? But now I am MUCH more concerned with her powers, her inner world and what she has been doing while claiming to be “gardening” this whole time??? Seems suspicious to me She is a mysterious character and I can’t wait to see her development. I’m personally gunning for dark!Elain but we’ll have to see…
Summary:Elain and Lucien are reunited after a year of civil war within Prythian. Lucien brings Elain back to Day to marry her in secret, and do something very sinful in the High Temple.
** Happiest of Birthdays to my dear @moononastring!! The Queen of Elucien, and generally just a really awesome human!
Summary: Elain and Lucien are reunited after a year of civil war within Prythian. Lucien brings Elain back to Day to marry her in secret, and do something very sinful in the High Temple.
** Happiest of Birthdays to my dear @moononastring!! The Queen of Elucien, and generally just a really awesome human!
For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.
Summary: Elain and Lucien are reunited after a year of civil war within Prythian. Lucien brings Elain back to Day to marry her in secret, and do something very sinful in the High Temple.
** Happiest of Birthdays to my dear @moononastring!! The Queen of Elucien, and generally just a really awesome human!
For my fanfic library, visit @rhysand-vs-fenrys-vs-writing.
TW: violent thoughts, implied past sexual assault, depressive thoughts, canon-typical death, scars, blood, murder, drowning, poison
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A/N: For @cascadingmoon. Thanks for the request! I love writing these kinds of Elain fics. Thank you for being so patient with me despite the long wait! I’m so honored that you wanted me to be part of this project & that my fic gets to be paired with such stunning art!
Thank you to @thewayshedreamed for beta reading. I loved discussing & brainstorming it with you! @duskandstarlight also gets a shoutout for helping me with ideas!
Sayo this is absolutely perfect! You captured everything that I imaged for this piece and more. The imagery you incorporated and the insight into her character is just incredible, I seriously don’t know anyone who writes a better Elain. I am so honoured to have collaborated with such a wonderful, gifted, and talented writer like you. Thank you so so much for this piece!
Thank you so much!! I’m so glad you enjoyed it :) I loved writing this and I’m so so honored that u like my take on Elain (and my writing style) ♥️ Thanks for collaborating with me!!
TW: violent thoughts, implied past sexual assault, depressive thoughts, canon-typical death, scars, blood, murder, drowning, poison
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A/N: For @cascadingmoon. Thanks for the request! I love writing these kinds of Elain fics. Thank you for being so patient with me despite the long wait! I’m so honored that you wanted me to be part of this project & that my fic gets to be paired with such stunning art!
Thank you to @thewayshedreamed for beta reading. I loved discussing & brainstorming it with you! @duskandstarlight also gets a shoutout for helping me with ideas!
It was some sort of magical, bottomless pail that multiplied the rainwater it collected. To feed the plants, they’d said. You love it, don’t you?
Of course, she’d replied. Of course.
Because what other choice was there?
How could she not love this gift? How could she not love everything in this world? That was her job, was it not?
Nevermind that the bottomless pit made her recoil, made her nauseous, made her want to scream and cry and drag the whole world down with her as she fell to the seafloor.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
She’d allowed herself to purposely forget the pail when she’d gone to tend the garden last time, but she hadn’t been given that luxury this time. Feyre had chased after her and handed her the bucket with a smile — a patronizing smile that would have made a lesser woman clench her teeth.
Feyre thought she was doing Elain a kindness, thought she was being oh-so-thoughtful by bringing her the pail, because Mother forbid Elain ever make a decision!
But Elain, who had been trained since birth to fake a smile, who knew the mask of sweet helplessness to be the safest disguise, had merely thanked her and been on her way.
The pail sat there, haunting her as she worked. It watched as her hands plucked weeds and planted seeds. Her hands were far too smooth, her skin akin to that of a child, but was she not? This body was really only a few years old, and it had erased all the marks of her previous life.
All the hard-earned calluses, created from the hours she’d spent in the small garden behind her house, were gone. Gone, like the scratches from when she’d been dragged to the cauldron, the tiny scar from the cut she’d gotten when using her mother’s letter opener at six years old, and the slight dent on her left ring finger where Graysen’s engagement ring had been.
Perhaps it was fitting that she now had the hands of a child. After all, was that not how they all saw her? An innocent fawn, a naive girl, a sweet little doll. She was just a smiling, happy thing, a girl with rosy cheeks and bright eyes, who knew nothing about the world — and they all wanted to keep it that way, because how precious, how sweet, to have a beacon of innocence among the horrors of the world.
Too bad that it was all a lie.
Wasn’t it convenient how they all forgot that it was her who had stabbed the king of Hybern? It had been far too easy — she’d looked up with her round doe-eyes through her lashes at Azriel, and he’d eagerly handed over his sword. It had been so simple to creep up behind the king unseen, when she’d been overlooked her entire life. They’d all dismissed her, because how much harm could a cherry-cheeked little girl really cause? The sword had stabbed him in the neck and blood had begun gushing out, darker than she’d expected.
Nesta had been the one to twist the blade, to slice his head off, to hold it up like a trophy.
Elain had slunk back into the shadows, unnoticed.
Wasn’t it strange how quickly they forgot? Elain wondered sometimes. How easily they could turn their backs towards her as they huddled together to tell some crude joke they didn’t think she’d appreciate.
Necks were all the same, in the end. It didn’t matter if it belonged to a frail little girl or a muscular Illyrian High Lord — a blade could slice through it and cut short a life.
She had yet to pick up a blade again, after the end of the war, but wasn’t it fun to fantasize? With her head bowed respectfully, no one ever saw her bloodthirsty smirk.
She didn’t always enjoy the role she played. Sometimes she wished they could see that she, too, was a real person. An adult who had lived her own life, who had made mistakes and had terrible thoughts and wasn’t always a sweet little thing. But when it mattered most, the mask would serve her well. They would all underestimate her, because she’d only pick up the knife when she needed to strike true. She served perfect tea blends from the plants she grew, and each blend would be better than the last, until the day she served the ultimate concoction — raw aconite, oleander, nightshade, hemlock, faebane, and ashwood.
No one could see past her smile, and thus it served as her best shield and weapon. Women like Morrigan wore their sensuality on full display, the slits in their skirts so high that anyone could tell that they wielded their beauty as a tool. But Elain’s shy smiles and furtive glances concealed so much more.
Elain focused her attention on plucking a few weeds. Wasn’t it strange, how people had decided which plants were to be considered weeds? Some plants were to be nurtured, watered, and have their every whim cared for, while others were violently ripped from the ground, murdered because they hadn’t been chosen.
She hummed a little tune as she worked. It was a nursery rhyme — a sweet little song that children sang — and just like all others, it concealed so much danger.
Ring around the Rosie.
Elain looked down to see a drop of blood on her finger. The ivy growing next to the weeds had pricked her. She stared blankly at her finger as the cut healed itself before her eyes, until not even the slightest blemish was visible where the cut had been. The drop of blood was all that remained as proof of her pain.
A pocket full of posies.
How fitting, that her scars could literally disappear. She could remain the perfect doll they all wanted to see. The unbroken, joyous little girl without a care in the world. A little naive, perhaps, but her happiness and kindness were bright enough for her light to reflect on them, and that was all that mattered — for that was her purpose to them. A little beacon of hope, like a baby. Because they would never see that she was a corpse reanimated — a dead woman walking in someone else’s magical skin. She had died in that Cauldron, but perhaps she had been dead long before that.
Ashes.
She didn’t know when her sisters had stopped seeing her as a person. When had they decided that all she was good for was to be someone else’s light? Maybe they had never seen her at all. Perhaps no one had ever seen her.
Once, she’d thought that Graysen had seen her. That he’d loved her as more than just a trophy on his arm, more than just a girl with a bright smile and a pretty dress, more than just a kind hand to support him and give him children. But the second she lost her human smile and womb, he’d thrown her away as though she’d lost her worth to him.
He’d promised her the world. He’d promised her forever.
Now, she really would have forever. Just not with him.
Ashes.
Sometimes, she could still feel the grip of those terrible hands — the hands that had dragged her out of bed, searched her far too thoroughly to be proper, and then pushed her head underwater to drown her. She could feel their palms, slick and grimy with sweat, and their slimy gazes on her far too thin nightgown.
She could feel their nails digging into her skin, creating crescent moon cuts, just like her mother’s hand used to as it rested on her shoulder. Their hands clutched her waist too tightly, the way suitors did at balls where they acted as though her smiles and kind words and ribbons were invitations to do as they pleased.
At those balls, she’d often felt like the pearl necklaces she wore were slowly choking her. The room felt too small, too crowded, too noisy. She’d longed to run away, perhaps after kicking the men where it would hurt most, but she’d known she never could. That wasn’t what ladies did in polite company, and her mother would never have allowed it, no matter how much she’d hated the men’s touch. Besides, it wasn’t kind, and Elain was nothing if not kind.
Oh, yes. If only they’d known her thoughts. Yes, Elain was nothing, now.
She’d escaped it all, somehow — the balls, the men, the hands — and yet she could still feel the pearls bruising her skin, clogging her throat, stopping her breathing.
She was still being choked, here, alone in the middle of nature where she’d once felt so free.
There was no escaping now. She would never be free from this rope of ivy tied like a noose around her neck.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. She heard one make a tiny sound as it dropped into her pail. Drip. Drip. Drip.
Maybe someday, if she cried enough, her pail would be as deep as the Cauldron — as terrible and powerful as its waters.
1) Elain’s reaction to Lucien’s first gift in ACOFAS:
I handed Elain the small box with her name on it. Her smile faded as she opened it.
“Enchanted gloves,” she read from the card. “That won’t tear or become too sweaty while gardening.” She set aside the box without looking at itfor longer than a moment. And I wondered if she preferred to have torn and sweaty hands, if the dirt and cuts were proof of her labor. Her joy.
Note that her smile faded as she opened the gift, not before when she noticed that it was from Lucien. It’s a clear sign that she doesn’t like the gloves and that Feyre’s assumption is true.
2) Elain’s clear reluctance to use the gift mentioned in Feysand’s Bonus Chapter:
Elain had come into the house, her right palm bleeding from several gashes thanks to a stubborn rosebush that had pierced her gloves. The thorns had broken off in her skin, leaving sharp splinters that I’d had to pull free. I didn’t dare mention that if she had been wearing the enchanted gloves Lucien had gotten her last Solstice, nothing would have pierced them at all.
Feyre says how she “didn’t dare mention” the gloves from Lucien, showing that she’s aware it would provoke a negative reaction from Elain.
3) Elain’s reaction to Lucien’s second gift in ACOSF:
He and Lucien did not exchange gifts, though the male had brought a gift for Feyre and one for his mate, who barely thanked him after opening the pearl earrings. Cassian’s heart strained at the pain etching deep into Lucien’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment and longing. Elain only shrank further into herself,no trace of that newfound boldness to be seen.
Yet another year has passed and no signs of improvement between them. As a matter of fact, Lucien’s presence backtracks any development from Elain.
Just a last little note, Elain keeping Lucien’s giftsmeansnothing. I don’t know about you guys, but I know for a fact that I’ve received plenty of presents throughout my life that weren’t necessarily things I liked, but I didn’t throw them away because I’m not nasty like that. Similarly, we all know how Elain is portrayed as one of the kindest characters in the series, therefore she probably didn’t return/throw away the gifts out of politeness. What truly matters is whether the gifts made her happy and if she had use for them. (*cough* Azriel’s necklace *cough*)
Sorry to say this, but the enchanted gloves and pearl earrings are doing nothing but collecting dust♀️(Just like Elucien’s mating bond)
Azriel set the potatoes in the center of the table, Cassian diving right in. Or he tried to.
One moment, his hand was spearing toward the serving spoon. The next, it was stopped, Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice.
Mor gaped wide enough that I was certain the half-chewed green beans in her mouth were going to tumble onto her plate. Amren just smirked over the rim of her wineglass.
Cassian gawked at him. “Wait for what? Gravy?”
Azriel didn’t let go. “Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”
-ACOFAS
The reason why I love this scene so much is because the reactions of the other characters suggest that Azriel never does this sort of thing. That usually, he doesn’t care whether or not everyone is at the table before someone starts eating. But he made them wait for Elain. I just adore it when dark and broody men turn into complete simps and gentlemen for their women
