#proelriel

His jaw tightened. Not that it was his business. Not that it mattered. He had never—never—given his shadows the command to report on Elain’s every move. He was not a monster, nor a jealous fool who needed to know where she was every second of the day. The only order he had ever given was to alert him if she was in danger.

But his shadows were defiant little creatures, and for some reason, they had taken it upon themselves to whisper to him every single time a male so much as looked at her for longer than necessary.

Which, according to them, was often. Way too often.

It didn’t surprise Azriel. Elain was—gods, she was a vision.

No, vision wasn’t strong enough. Stunning wasn’t strong enough. There wasn’t a word in existence that could describe what she was.

All the Archeron sisters were beautiful. He had long suspected their mother must have had some kind of magic in her veins, because there was no other explanation for how they had all been born with such impossible beauty.

But Elain… Elain was otherworldly.

It wasn’t just her soft, heart-shaped face, or those deep brown eyes that could make the stars weep. It wasn’t just her full, pink lips, or the way the golden sunlight always seemed to find her, kissing her skin in a way that made it glow.

It was her light.

The way she moved through the world, gentle yet unshakable. The way she carried herself with grace even when she was uncertain, even when she was lost. The way her smiles—her real ones—were like dawn breaking over the horizon, slow and soft and full of warmth.

Azriel had never known light like that. Never known someone like her. And yet, despite all of that, he knew Elain’s beauty was her greatest insecurity.

She had told him once, early in the morning in the gardens, as they sat on the stone bench beneath the sunrise. Had told him of how her mother had raised her like a prized jewel, something to be displayed rather than something to be cherished. A perfect doll to be married off, to be admired but never understood. Perhaps that was why she never seemed to notice all the gazes she drew, why she never saw the way males practically worshiped the ground she walked on.

It was so different from Mor, who wielded her beauty like a weapon, who used it to get whatever, whoever, she wanted.

Maybe that was why Azriel had never felt anything deeper than longing for Mor.

Maybe that was why, from the moment he met her, it had always been Elain.

And now, here she was, standing in the golden afternoon light, her long curls dancing in the breeze, speaking to Charles Woodson. His jaw tightened further as he caught the way Charles was looking at her. The same way he looked at her. Azriel swallowed hard and started moving. He had no right to interfere. No right to feel the sharp pang of jealousy stabbing through his ribs.

But that had never stopped him before.

He descended to the street, adjusting his pace as he approached. His shadows curled around him in a lazy, satisfied way, as if they were pleased he had come to investigate. He waved them off before they could whisper anything more. He didn’t want to know what Charles had been saying to her.

And like always, the minute the other male saw him, his face went white. His body stiffened.

People did that around him. Even here, in Velaris, where most regarded him with admiration instead of fear, people still flinched when they saw him. Still lowered their voices, shifted away, avoided eye contact. It no longer affected him. He had grown used to it long ago.

But Elain… Elain had never flinched. Never tensed. Never looked at him like he was something to be feared.

No. When she saw him... she beamed. Her whole face lit up as she turned to him, the warmth of her smile unwavering. As if his presence was everything she had wanted to see in that very moment. Azriel's throat tightened as he stopped beside her, far closer than he needed to be.

"Hello, Elain," he murmured, his voice softer than he intended. He did have a reputation to uphold, after all. 

She tilted her head up at him, her cheeks pink from the cold. "Azriel! I didn’t see you this morning. When did you leave?"

"Early," he said simply. "I had errands to run."

Elain huffed a quiet laugh. "Cassian was still snoring quite loud when I left."

Azriel smirked. "He always is."

Elain turned then, gesturing to the male who was still rooted in place, his blue eyes darting between them nervously. "This is Charles. He’s on the garden committee with me." Azriel flicked his hazel gaze to Charles, his expression unreadable.

"Spymaster," Charles said stiffly, nodding once.

Azriel only inclined his head in return, silent. Charles hesitated, then cleared his throat. "I should let you go, Elain…"

Azriel did not say anything. Did not encourage him to stay.

Elain, polite as ever, smiled kindly. "It was lovely seeing you. Please tell your mother I say hello!"

Charles nodded quickly, glancing at Azriel one last time before turning on his heel and disappearing into the shop. Azriel watched as Charles disappeared into the shop, the tension in his shoulders loosening only slightly now that the other male was gone.

Good.

With everyone crammed into the Town House for Solstice, his moments alone with Elain had been fleeting at best. The House of Wind offered little reprieve when Rhys insisted he stay closer to the family for the holiday, and the only peace Azriel had managed to find was in his early morning flights before the city stirred.

But this—this—was a moment he wasn’t going to waste. Even if it was just the walk back to the house, even if it would take only 22 minutes. A solid 30, knowing Elain, since she would inevitably stop to admire a wreath or a display in one of the shop windows, or pause to talk to a vendor about the winter berries they were selling.

He could spare 30 minutes.

Elain adjusted the package in her arms, the crisp winter air flushing her cheeks as she turned back to him, a soft smile still on her lips. He reached for the gift she was holding before she could protest.

"Here, let me hold that for you," he said, his fingers grazing the edge of the paper wrapping.

"Oh, I'm fine! I can carry it," she insisted, looking up at him.

Azriel simply raised a brow. Of course she would insist. Stubborn, even in the smallest of things. "I can have my shadows take it back to the house," he offered, already summoning them.

She let out a small sigh, her lips pressing together before she relented. “If you insist.”

With a soft whisper of darkness, the package vanished from her arms. Azriel’s shadows flickered back toward him, murmuring their approval.

His gaze flicked to her hands, bare and delicate against the cold. Where were her gloves?

"Where are your gloves?" he asked, already frowning.

Elain flexed her fingers as if only now realizing the absence. "I swear they were in my pocket, but I must have forgotten them," she said, glancing down.

That wouldn’t do. Before she could say another word, his shadows darted away and returned a heartbeat later, dropping a familiar pair of gloves into his waiting palm. She blinked at them, then at him, her face blooming with color.

"You didn't have to do that..." she murmured, reaching for them.

He handed them to her, their fingers brushing—that same jolt rushing between them, setting something alight in his chest.

"Of course I did," he said, voice quieter now, watching the way she quickly slipped them on. "Your warmth is of the utmost priority for me."

Elain looked up at him then, something unreadable in her expression. The hazel of his eyes reflected in the deep brown of hers, like light against the earth.

"And what about your warmth?" she asked, tilting her head slightly as she motioned to him.

A corner of his mouth lifted. "I'm Illyrian. It's rare for us to get cold." It was one of the few benefits of his Illyrian heritage, along with the wings. The warmth. He rarely felt the bite of winter.

Elain considered that for a moment before, to his absolute surprise, she reached for his hand. Her gloved fingers wrapped around his for the briefest of moments, testing. Then she laughed. Laughed. A quiet, breathy sound, like snow melting beneath the first touch of spring.

"Well, you are quite warm," she said, squeezing his fingers gently before letting go.

Azriel clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to grab her hand again, to pull it back into his, to tuck it against his chest where she could feel how fast his heart was beating. But then she sighed, tucking her hands into the folds of her cloak. "I still have one more place to stop, and I know your must be busy..."

Azriel shook his head, letting his smile grow just a fraction. "It's Solstice, remember? My day is wide open."

Her answering grin was radiant. "It's only a few blocks away. The twins told me about it," she explained. Then, quieter, "I... I wanted to get something for Nesta."

Azriel hesitated, just for a second. Of course Elain would still get Nesta a gift. Even after the things she had said. After the pain, the anger, the rejection. Because Elain was Elain. She gave, even when it hurt. Even when it wasn’t deserved.

And because Azriel knew what it was to love someone who pushed you away, to care so deeply for someone who didn’t—or couldn’t—let you in, he simply said, "Then let’s go." She squeezed his arm, that soft warmth burrowing deep into his bones. And Azriel decided, then and there, that he would make this walk last as long as possible. Azriel barely noticed the cold biting at his face as they walked, Elain’s arm looped through his. The streets of Velaris were still bustling, but his focus, his entire being, was centered on her.

She moved easily beside him, unconcerned by the stares she drew from passersby. As if she was unaware of how they looked at her. How they paused mid-step, mid-sentence, just to catch a glimpse of her. It had always been like this—Elain walking through the world, completely oblivious to the way she captivated it.

But Azriel noticed. He always noticed.

And he noticed, too, how she barely spared them a glance. How her focus remained on him, her brown eyes tilted up, her soft pink lips curving with quiet amusement. It was rare to walk this freely through the city, rare to move unnoticed. Not that he was unnoticed—he never was. People still shifted out of his way, still cast wary glances in his direction. But Elain…

Elain was light, warmth, the delicate golden balance to the sharp edges of his shadows.

And for the briefest of moments, Azriel allowed himself to imagine.

To pretend. That this was his life.

That Elain was his.

That after this perfect afternoon, they would return to their home, to their shared life. That she would hum softly as she baked in their kitchen, her hands dusted with flour, her curls slipping loose from their braid, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon wrapping around her like a second skin.

That he would press himself against her back, slide his arms around her waist, and bury his face in the curve of her neck, breathing her in. That she would laugh—laugh—tilting her head back to look up at him with those luminous brown eyes, soft with affection.

That he would steal kisses whenever he pleased. As many as he pleased. He exhaled slowly, pushing the fantasy away before it could sink its claws too deeply into his heart. A dream. That was all it was. Nothing he could ever truly have.

Read The Rest on AO3

Elain closed her eyes and smiled, tilting her head back to let the warm sun kiss her face. She didn’t fret when a gentle breeze took her sunhat, letting it fall to the grass as she dabbed a handkerchief over her neck. Today was a good day, they all were lately, each better than the last. She’d stopped counting the good days months ago, when they far exceeded the bad but she hadn’t stopped appreciating them. Every day she found something to be grateful for, something special, beautiful.

The quiet rustling of paper had the corners of her mouth quirking up as she turned to her normally very quiet companion. Today, she was grateful to have Azriel in the garden keeping her company. He sat back, one booted ankle crossed over the other as he read through a stack of reports. Though, presently, his eyes were on her instead of his reports, a faint blush creeping over his cheeks as his eyes darted back to the pages in his hands.

Elain couldn't help but admire the way the sun shone through his outstretched wings, filtering through in dark reds and golds. If she had Feyre’s talent, she thought, she’d paint him just like this. His wings shifted slightly and she quickly turned her attention back to the peonies she’d been tending lest she be caught staring. He was so easy to admire after all, so beautiful.

Elain blushed, mentally scolding herself for how often she thought of the Shadowsinger. Of his thick hair, always perfectly tousled as if even the wind couldn't help but run its fingers through it. She thought of his handsome face, his kind smile and eyes that seemed to see straight to her soul. She though of the strong arms that had carried her as if she were light as a feather and she thought of his hands. Strong but gentle hands she found so beautiful, hands she’d imagined on her bare skin more than a few times.

A light, that's exactly what Elain Archeron was. Even in the darkest of her days he’d seen it, an undying ember of hope that lived within her. It made her positively radiant beyond her obvious physical beauty.

Like calls to like. Maybe that's why even the sun seemed to worship her, bathing her in it's light while it basked in HER glow. The rays making her strands of honey gold hair glow as they wove through the soft brown curls cascading down her back. How many times had he dreamed about running his fingers through those thick tresses? More than he'd ever admit and too many to count.

He smiled to himself when his shadows whispered that she'd been watching him. Now he watched as she turned to the light, eyes closed as she let it warm her. He could almost imagine what it would feel like, to stand before her and press his lips to hers. How soft and warm that kiss would be, how sweet she would taste and what a kiss like that might mean. That maybe, Elain cared for him as much as he'd grown to care for her.

He took one last look at her before turning back to his reports, watching her weave through the garden in his periphery, listening to her soft footsteps and occasional humming, sometimes quietly joining her though he doubted she could hear.

"How are the new additions faring?" Azriel asked, his smooth voice drawing Elain's attention once more.

"Well," she began, clearly happy to have been asked. "The wisteria is positively thriving and the tulip bulbs you were kind enough to bring me from the continent are nearly ready to bloom. I've planted so many, it'll be like a sea of colors."

She went on about all her latest changes to the garden, pausing only when she thought she'd perhaps talked too much and had begun to bore him.

"I had no doubt they would thrive in your care." He offered with a smile, forearms resting on his knees as he listened to her with rapt attention. "Until we can get you to the continent, I'll bring the continent to you."

"One day." She said, offering him a shy smile and a nod of thanks. He knew what it meant to her, how long she dreamed of seeing the continent with her sisters. How she'd always imagined her father joining them. True, it wasn't the same as going, but the gesture was no less thoughtful, especially when he was likely away on important court business. That he'd thought of her at all touched her more than she would ever be able to tell him.

Azriel stood and stretched, his sun warmed wings extending before tucking back behind him. Elain admired his lean form, the wide sweep of his wings and the way the sun glinted off his cobalt Siphons and his eyes, eyes that were looking straight at her. She saw the faint color on his cheeks and Elain knew he'd caught her staring this time. Quickly, she turned her attention to the rose in her hand. Carefully, snipping it from the bush and laying it with the rest she'd collected.

"As usual you are too kind." She said nervously, snipping another rose. "I haven't planted the seeds you brought me from the Winter Court yet, I'm hoping I'll have better luck them when the weather cools."

Met with silence, she looked up to find him watching her now. She couldn't stop the blush she knew was creeping over her cheeks under his soft gaze. Her heart fluttered every time he looked at her like that, and lately that had been quite often.

Azriel took one step toward her, then another and another, his eyes never leaving hers. Those warm brown eyes, full of so much understanding, hope and love.

"And the roses, how are they coming along?" He asked, watching her delicate fingers trace along the edges of the petals before leaning in to take in its sweet scent.

"Perfectly happy here." She answered softly. "They had a bit of trouble at first but now their roots are strong, they're flourishing beautifully.

He couldn't help but think the same about her. How happy he was that she lovingly called the Night Court her home now. Even if in the dark recesses of his mind that fear still existed, that one day she might accept the bond and make a home for herself elsewhere. Far from Night. Far from him.

Her eyes flicked from the rose back to him and he took another step, as if waiting for her permission, as if she willed it so. Each step brought her into better view, no longer so hidden by the lush greenery of the garden.

"Az!"

She started as he froze, just close enough to spot the freckles that danced across the bridge of her nose.

"Cassian." He answered, turning toward his friend as he made to meet him halfway. So close.

Elain's heart sank as the distance between them grew, even as his shadow seemed to try to stretch to meet her before his retreat.  It was nothing, she told herself. A simple conversation like many they'd had before, there was nothing remarkable about today, nothing different...aside from that look.

She tried to busy herself with her roses again but it was no use. She hung on his every word, listening to him and Cassian discuss looming problems with the Illyrian forces. Selfishly, she hoped he wouldn't be sent away to help with those problems. As it was, she found that she already missed him on days he didn't turn up for family dinners.

Judging by his tone, Azriel didn't wish to oversee the Illyrians either. Not wanting to eavesdrop further on what seemed to be a tense conversation, Elain found herself wandering deeper into the garden until she could only faintly make out Azriel's voice. She let the timbre and cadence of it soothe her as she wandered and wove through, snipping and collecting blooms as she went. Eventually, she settled in a spot a safe distance away that allowed them privacy while she admired the garden and the Shadowsinger.

Azriel half listened to Cassian, in the end he knew Cass would unload all the mounting issues, but be the one to go. The one to face the Illyrian's ire for bothering to help. Azriel just didn't have it in him to pretend to play nice for long enough to get anything accomplished. He found he'd much rather be here, staring into the lovely brown eyes that now peered at him between flowering branches in the distance.

"Fine, I'll go." Cassian said without argument, "But next time you're coming with me. It'll be good for you." Cassian said, clapping him on the back.

"Next time." Azriel agreed with a nod, like he did every time they had this conversation.

Elain knew he'd seen her but she couldn't bring herself to look away, not until she pricked her finger on a thorn as she carelessly reached for another rose. She gasped, snatching her hand back and cradling it, a bead of crimson blood resting at her fingertip. She watched as the small wound quickly healed and used a clean handkerchief to wipe the tiny ruby of blood away.

She stilled for a moment, suddenly realizing the garden had gone quiet. She looked up, searching for any sign of Azriel, but he was gone. Likely back inside the manor with Cassian. She craned her neck, hoping he might have returned to his reports but his seat remained empty.

“Damn.” She breathed, not wanting their moment to have been cut so short. Not when it felt like some new version of what they were was ready to bloom. They regularly caught each other staring, shared secret smiles when no one else was watching. So many times he’d brushed by her, and she’d reached out, fingertips lightly brushing over his hand as he passed.

"Have you lost something?" Azriel's voice asked playfully from behind her.

She gasped and spun to face him, Azriel's hands gripping her waist, stopping her before she backed into the thorny roses she'd been hiding behind.

“Azriel,” She laughed, playfully scolding him. “You scared me half to death!"

“I apologize, Lady.” Azriel chuckled, not all sorry for catching her staring or for having an excuse to touch her.

“Yes, your laughing sounds very regretful.” She scolded, laughing herself.

“It’s difficult to have any regrets in my current position.” He admitted, his heart aching over how right this felt. Still, he had to be careful, Elain wasn’t just anyone, not to his family and not to him.

“I DO wonder,” He started, “How you could be startled at all.” A mischievous grin played at his lips. “You were watching so intently."

Elain narrowed her eyes even as a pretty blush colored her cheeks.

“And just HOW do you know I was watching?” She asked haughtily, very aware that his warm hands still rested on her waist.

"What kind of Spymaster would I be if I DIDN'T notice?" He asked, looking down at her, the green in his hazel eyes looking especially vibrant in the garden. Elain's heart raced at his nearness, his touch, his scent.

“Translation, YOU were watching ME.” She smiled up at him, looking too proud of herself.

“Every chance I get.” He admitted, the confession surprising them both.

"You're hurt." He said, before she could respond. His eyes resting on the hand she still cradled to her chest.

"Yes-no, I was." She clarified, stumbling over her words as he took her hand in his own, carefully looking it over.

"I pricked my finger is all." She says, sheepishly extending her now healed finger for him to see.

"Dangerous business, gardening." He said, heart thundering in his chest as he raised her hand, pressing a kiss to her fingertip. He didn't know what possessed him to be so forward, but neither did he regret it.

The softest touch of his lips on her skin sent a sparkling energy coursing through Elain.

Slowly, her lips parted as she silently watched him, wishing to feel his lips against hers next.

"But worth the risk." She breathed.

Unthinking, she stepped forward, resting her free hand on his chest, beside his glittering Siphon. If she were braver, she would pull him in and kiss him herself instead, she let the rhythm of his heartbeat steady her nerves as he pressed another kiss to the palm of her hand.

She couldn't stop herself then, from tenderly caressing his cheek as his hand ghosted down her forearm and came to rest on her waist again.

"The best things usually are." He answered, as he held up a freshly trimmed rose, no doubt magicked into his hand with the help of his clever shadows.

"Is that the one that pricked me?" She asked with narrowed eyes, settling into the comfort of their closeness.

"It had to be done.” He said, smiling as he carefully tucked it behind her ear, the soft peach rose looking perfect nestled in her golden brown curls.

Elain felt it then, that bravery she'd lacked earlier as she leaned forward. Azriel didn't dare back away, not even as his shadows whispered that the High Lady was fast approaching. No, he too leaned in, Elain’s fearlessness catching.

"Elain?!" Feyre called out.

 Elain's eyes widened as she turned to her sister's voice before glancing back at Azriel who was already backing away toward his shadows.

"Tomorrow?" He asked, offering an apologetic smile.

Elain nodded. "Dinner?" She asked, smiling as he nodded before disappearing into the shadows completely.

“Elain!  There you are!” Feyre called, smiling as she approached.

“Here I am.” Elain breathed, pulse still racing and skin flushed.

“I don’t know what you do out here for hours, everything looks perfect to me.” She said, gathering the flowers Elain had collected.

“Oh, just planting seeds, seeing what grows.” Elain answered quietly.

“Well, you’re as red as a rose, come inside and have lunch with me.” Feyre asked, nodding toward the house. Sensing she wouldn’t take no for an answer, Elain nodded, looping her arm through Feyre’s as they headed back.