#brathaidh

she hadn’t meant to approach him so shamelessly, but it seemed @brathaidh had his own gravitational pull, even at this party that was full of guests from other courts. he had been lurking in the corner, as typical of the spymaster, when elain had decided she was far too bored being the wallflower. nesta had tried to get her to join she and feyre on the dancefloor – elain declining, preferring to watch her sisters mend their relationship and radiate joy from where they twirled in the center. but now, she felt that itch to dance, and something in this decision making had lead her to standing in front of azriel, doe eyes wide and hopeful.

her optimism was misplaced.

“you need to stay away from me.” the illyrian murmured, expression stoic and words clipped. the rejection washed over her with the heat of embarrassment, cheeks flaming with a blush unlike the sweeter kind he’d evoked during their moments of flirting weeks prior. she would have turned and left without a word, letting the shame decay her hope, but her ever-observational eyes caught his own gaze flickering to rhysand.

elain paused, mid-step, as she considered the weight in that look.

twisting back to azriel, the tulle of her lavender dress sashaying around her hips, she felt a spark of defiance. anger, too, at the hot and cold way the holder of her heart had been treating her. “you know, i’ve grown quite weary of people telling me what i can and cannot do,” the seer snipped, straightening her shoulders and pointing her chin from its usual downturn. “i think i should give some orders for once, and you—” she offers a hand as her tone accentuates. “—are going to dance with me. now.”

a line of tension was visible along elain’s bare shoulders; her pastel blue dress only had a piece of material looped just above her elbow either arm, and even the necklace she wore wasn’t extravagant enough to hide the way her body coiled. she was typically made of soft edges, but the conversation at hand, the weight it held, had sharpened them. the newly anointed high lady was attempting to calm her shaking hands by brushing the pegasi in front of her, counting her breaths for the beats of her inhale and exhale as @brathaidh spoke, bringing news from her former court with him. of anyone, he did seem the most… supportive. perhaps it had something to do with the fact his mother now resided in her care, encouraged to take refuge in the dusk court.

elain stepped in front of the ethereal steed, brush stroking down its chest; although her hands had stayed their tremble, it did nothing for her raging thoughts. it’s true that rhysand and feyre weren’t happy with their decree to offer sanctuary to any citizens of the night court, what kind of insinuation it made – but if elain could, she’d have offered sanctuary to everyone, especially the humans who were struggling under their corrupt queens influence, still scarred by their oppression by the fae of old. but it had been easier, at least, to start with the night court: their ‘sister’ court, both literally and figuratively. lineages blurred between the two courts, both in ancient history and their current time, so they would inevitably work in tandem with similar values. still, there were parts of their territory that even rhysand and feyre’s influence couldn’t reach, and it was there that elain knew she could find people to relocate.

any citizen of the hewn city or the illyrian camps that wanted to start anew were now under her protection. if anyone from the night court threatened retribution, they would answer to her and her growing army of valkyrie. the weight of that truth kept elain up at night, sometimes. it was why she was in this stable, azriel assessing and speaking to her, although she only realized now he had gone quiet. both curiosity and dread had elain turning, trying to keep her face impassive in the way nesta had trained her; her deep brown eyes lock onto his hazel, a distant quality in his own hues that she hasn’t seen before. she vaguely hears the ruffling of the pegasi behind her, stretching its wings as she twists her body fully towards the illyrian. her mouth opens to speak, but azriel cuts her off, a murmur carried on the wind cast by the creatures wings flapping gently. “no one expects an angel to set the world on fire.”

     the words set her skin ablaze.     they had been through so much,     he knew her like no one else did.     and now he was telling her that he had moved on.     the glare she offers him is a cold one,     but if he looks carefully into her icy blue and grey eyes,      he’d see the hurt burning.         “     you’re a liar.     ”        she spits.     small arms cross over her chest,     eyes burning a hole through him as she stares.     but she isn’t sure it makes a difference.      she isn’t sure that she could change his mind.        maybe she was just unlovable.