Mortalfae

One Shot:

The Unfading Crescent: In a heated moment of lost control, Elain leaves a bite mark on Azriel. 🌶️

A Court of Blushes and Starlight: Elain wonders if she will get a cheek kiss too. 4 Scenes from ACOFAS written from Elain's POV.

Elain wants a Tattoo: Elain decides she wants a tattoo, and her specific request is shocking enough to make Cassian choke.

Elriel Bonus Chapter Silver Flames - rewritten: Elain and Azriel come close for the first time on the night of Solstice. But what if it wasn’t Rhysand who caught them, what if it was Feyre? smutty

Elain kills Beron: During a tense and suffocating summit at the Day Court, Beron creates a conflict by demanding the return of a Seer he claims belongs to the Autumn Court.

Elain's Sound: In the bonus chapter Azriel wonders what sound she would make… and, well, I wondered the same thing. 🌶️

Winter Solstice: Elriel’s next Solstice scene.

ACOWAR Ch. 24: Elain POV

A Glimpse of Dimple: When Elain glimpses Azriel’s rare dimple for the first time, she becomes determined to see it again but Rhysand’s demanding workload keeps the brooding Shadowsinger too busy and exhausted to smile.

Valentine's Day: On a mortal holiday no one in Velaris has heard of, Elain pours her unspoken feelings into bitter dark chocolate and a handwritten note meant for one person only.

Flour and Filth: While attempting to maintain his composure in the kitchen, Azriel is driven to the brink of madness by Elain's deceptively innocent behavior, entirely consumed by the dark, filthy desires she unknowingly provokes. 🌶️

ACOSF Chapter 58.25: Seeking a quiet escape from the crowded Solstice party, Elain and Nesta share an intimate, blunt conversation in the kitchen that exposes Elain’s secret feelings.

Elriel Month: May 01 - Fairytale

Elriel Month: May 06 - Yearning—Solstice Shopping: Rose Necklace

Elriel Month: May 14 - Missions

Elriel Month: May 23 - Spies

Headcanon:

Elriel Headcanons Part 1

Elriel Headcanons Part 2

Elriel Headcanons 🌶️

The Lotus Flower

After Cassian and Azriel met Nesta and Elain for the first time

The Valkyries with the Siphon Boys

When the Seer is ovulating and the Shadowsinger is doomed

I prefer golden-brown-doe eyes

University AU Part 1

University AU Part 2

Nyx Spills the Tea

High Lord, Low Tolerance

Spy Elain

The Inner Circle discovers Azriel’s secret notes

Acotar 6

Elain’s first Fae cycle (Azriel’s too)

The scuff of a boot against the wood floor broke the quiet.

Nesta entered, carrying a half-finished drink of her own. She didn't say a word at first. She merely leaned against the edge of the counter, crossing her ankles. Elain kept her eyes on her glass, her hands moving automatically.

Neither of them spoke for a long minute.

Finally, Elain glanced up, offering a fragile, practiced smile. “It’s nice to have you here today,” she said, her voice soft, a gentle melody against the distant noise of the party. “I’m glad you came.”

Nesta shrugged lightly, staring down at her drink. “Yeah. Better than I expected.”

Elain’s smile widened just a fraction, relieved by the lack of vitriol. “You got such lovely gifts.”

Nesta nodded. A small, almost imperceptible softening passed over her sharp features. It was true; she hadn’t expected to receive anything this year. “And Azriel’s gift was thoughtful,” Elain added, her voice dropping a fraction of an octave as she took a small sip of her amber drink. “Now you can read at night, too. Without straining your eyes.”

Nesta’s gaze sharpened instantly. The casual air vanished, replaced by the lethal focus of a predator that had just caught a scent.

Nesta had noticed. She had spent the entire day watching. She had seen the microscopic glances exchanged across the crowded sitting room. She had noticed the way Azriel had practically melted into the shadows near the doorway rather than joining them. Most of all, she had noticed how intensely aware Elain and Azriel were of each other—an invisible, taut wire strung between them, vibrating without a single word being spoken.

It was a puzzle Nesta hadn’t quite solved yet, and she despised unsolved puzzles.

“Are you upset?” Nesta asked bluntly.

Elain blinked, her fingers freezing around her glass. “What do you mean?”

“Because he didn’t give you a gift.”

The reaction was instantaneous. A fierce, hot flush of scarlet rushed up Elain’s neck, blooming across her cheeks.

“No,” Elain said, the word coming out a little too fast, a little too breathy. “Why would I be? I didn’t get him anything either. Why would I expect him to give me something?” She forced a laugh that sounded like brittle glass. She turned back to her drink, her movements suddenly frantic. “And besides, you’ve gotten close. You live in the House of Wind now. You train together, and he’s up there all the time. You two are practically hugging each other when you say goodbye.”

Nesta raised a single, elegant brow. She didn't miss the sharp spike of defensiveness, nor the subtle deflection.

“Are you jealous?” Nesta asked quietly.

Elain looked up sharply, her brown eyes flashing with a rare spark of anger. “What?”

Nesta shrugged, entirely unfazed. “Maybe jealous isn’t the right word.” Her gaze drifted toward the brightly lit doorway leading back to the sitting room. “You’re close to everyone in this house, Elain. You smile at them. You talk to them with an ease that frankly makes me nauseous. But it feels like you can’t even breathe the same air as Azriel. Especially not, when Lucien is in the same room.”

Elain’s expression froze into a mask of pure ice.

Nesta stepped closer, her voice dropping to a low, relentless murmur. “Is that what you want? To hug him freely? To talk to him? To smile at him without worrying about this shit of mate situation?”

The words landed brutal. The mention of Lucien—and the unyielding, golden thread of the mating bond—was a strike straight to the heart.

Elain’s face darkened, a dangerous shadow crossing her features that looked terrifyingly. “Stop it, Nesta.”

“So I struck a nerve.”

“There is nothing like that between us.”

“I didn’t say there was.”

“Then stop implying it!” Elain snapped, her voice rising just enough to carry over the hum of the house.

Nesta studied her carefully, her own mind whirring. Nesta wasn't dumb. She had eyes. She could tell that Elain felt absolutely, suffocatingly uncomfortable around her mate. Whenever Lucien spoke to her, Elain shrank back, her posture stiffening into a defensive posture. And yet, Elain hadn't formally rejected the bond.

Why? Nesta wondered.

A dark thought crossed her mind. She wondered if the reason Elain was keeping Lucien at arm's length without completely cutting the tie had to do with Rhysand and his annoying, endless political games. Lucien was somehow a crucial piece on the Night Court's political chessboard. Had Rhysand subtly pressured Elain to keep the line open? Had Feyre? Nesta kept the thought to herself, choosing not to speak it out loud, but the bitter taste of it lingered.

She knew the truth of what was actually happening. She had seen how Elain's eyes were magnetically, helplessly locked to the brooding Shadowsinger the exact same way his hazel eyes were locked onto Elain. They were pining for each other, desperately and painfully, right under everyone's noses.

“I mean, he’s a good male,” Nesta mused, breaking the silence and swirling her drink again.

Elain rolled her eyes, turning her back completely. “Nesta.”

“Probably better than most males in this room. Certainly quieter than Cassian.”

“There is no ‘thing’ to discuss.”

“Then why are you so terrified of the idea?”

Elain didn’t answer. She gripped her glass so hard her knuckles turned white.

The silence stretched, long and agonizing, until Nesta’s expression softened into something genuine. Something rare.

“You know you’re allowed to love whoever you want,” Nesta said quietly. “You don't owe the Cauldron—or anyone else's politics—a damn thing.”

A strange, breathless laugh escaped Elain. It was short. Bitter. A sound that belonged to a woman who had seen the underbelly of fate and hated it.

“Love is for humans,” Elain said, her voice flat.

Nesta frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It means fate matters more for fae,” Elain replied, finally turning around to face her sister. There was a profound, ancient sadness in her eyes. “Choice is a human luxury. Here, the magic decides. The bond decides.”

Nesta snorted, a sharp, ugly sound. “Tell that to Feyre and Rhysand.”

Elain’s small, sad smile vanished entirely. “Feyre got lucky. Her heart and her bond chose the same male. Do you think the universe is always that kind?”

Nesta leaned forward, her voice a sharp whisper. “Do you hate Lucien that much?”

Elain said nothing. She didn’t have to. The heavy, suffocating silence that filled the space between them was answer enough. It wasn't hatred for Lucien, it was resentment for the chains around her neck.

After a long while, Nesta let out a heavy sigh, the tension draining from her shoulders. “When we were human... you talked more. You used to tell me things.”

Elain looked at her, a wry, melancholy twist to her lips. “You aren’t exactly an open book yourself, Nesta.”

“Fair.” Nesta drummed her fingers against the marble counter, searching for a way to pull them both back from the edge of the abyss. “Do you at least talk to your wraith friends?”

Elain immediately corrected her, a fierce protectiveness entering her tone. “Nuala and Cerridwen. And yes, they’re my friends.” She tilted her head, observing the slight shift in Nesta's posture. “The same way Gwyn and Emerie are yours.”

Nesta’s lips twitched into a smirk. “Do you mind that I have friends now? That I'm not entirely miserable?”

The question seemed to genuinely surprise Elain. Her shoulders dropped, the defensive walls crumbling just a bit. “Why would I mind?” Her voice softened, returning to its natural, gentle warmth. “I’m happy for you, Nesta. Truly.”

Nesta remained silent, unaccustomed to receiving unconditional kindness without a catch.

“When we were human,” Elain continued softly, looking out the dark window toward the lawns of the River House, “none of us really had friends. When our father had money, people only wanted to use us to climb the social ladder. And when we lost everything... those same people laughed and talked behind our backs.” She looked back at Nesta, her eyes bright. “But now? All three of us have people we trust. People we can talk to without fear. I think that’s beautiful.”

Nesta looked away, unable to hold Elain's gaze because, damn it, she was right. She thought of Gwyn’s fierce determination, of Emerie’s quiet strength. She thought of the version of herself that existed at the top of the world, laughing in the snow.

An easier version of herself. A happier one.

And looking at Elain, Nesta wondered if her sister had a version like that, too—or if Elain was still keeping her true self hidden away in the shadows of the greenhouse, waiting for permission to bloom.

Deciding she had let the mood get entirely too depressing, Nesta reached out and nudged Elain’s shoulder with her own. “You know, regardless of fate... you do still have eyes.”

Elain narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “And?”

“And Azriel is a very attractive male.”

Elain gasped, her face flushing all over again. “Nesta.”

“I’m just saying. Annoyingly handsome. All that brooding mystery.”

“Nesta, stop.”

“And have you seen—”

“Nesta Archeron!”

Nesta threw her head back and laughed, a loud, clear sound. “What? I’ve seen him training with Cassian. No shirt. In the mornings. It is objectively hard to miss, Elain.”

Elain looked around the kitchen as if she was searching for shadows, her face turning a violent shade of scarlet. “You are courting his brother!”

Nesta grinned wickedly, leaning in. “Who says I’m not seeing both of them?”

Elain’s eyes widened in sheer, unadulterated horror. Her jaw literally dropped.

Nesta burst out laughing, a genuine, delighted sound that filled the kitchen. “I’m joking! In Mother's name, Elain, look at your face.”

“You are impossible,” Elain groaned, covering her face with her hands.

“No, I’m observant.” Nesta reached into a crystal bowl on the counter and popped a winter berry into her mouth. “And objectively speaking, the Shadowsinger is spectacular to look at. As if you’ve never thought it.”

Elain kept her hands over her face, remaining suspiciously, damningly silent.

Nesta pointed a triumphant finger at her. “Exactly! I knew it.”

Elain dropped her hands, glaring, though the corners of her mouth were twitching. “You are terrible.”

“If I weren’t currently avoiding Feyre,” Nesta continued, her smile flattening slightly as a familiar chill settled into her chest, “I’d have these conversations with her. She’d thoroughly enjoy analyzing the psychological implications of your pining.”

At that exact moment, the soft whisper of slippers signaled approaching footsteps.

Feyre walked into the kitchen, a stack of empty dessert plates balanced in her hands. The moment she entered, the air in the room shifted, the easy banter between Nesta and Elain dying instantly. Feyre stopped, looking between the two of them, her blue-grey eyes lighting up at the obvious tension and the bright flush on Elain’s face.

“What are you two doing in here?” Feyre asked, a knowing smile already tugging at her lips.

Nesta didn’t hesitate for a single second. She grabbed her glass, stepped past her youngest sister without making eye contact, and said smoothly, “Talking about Elain’s massive crush.”

And with that, Nesta promptly walked out of the kitchen, her cold departure leaving an abrupt silence in her wake.

Elain froze, staring blankly at the empty doorway. “What?”

Feyre’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. She set the plates down on the counter with a loud rattle. “You have a crush?”

“I do not,” Elain said immediately, her voice squeaking.

“Who is it?” Feyre practically bounced on her heels, crossing the kitchen and lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Tell me. Is it someone from the Court? Is it—”

“I don’t have a crush, Feyre!”

“Oh, come on, you can tell me,” Feyre nudged her arm, her eyes sparkling with absolute delight. “I won’t tell anyone. Not even Rhys.”

“There is nothing to tell!” Elain cried, gripping her amber drink tightly as if she could use the crystal glass as a shield.