Rot & Bloom & Bones

nesta wasn’t overshadowed. don’t let elain be..

And she presented him in a way that, I think, she sees him. And honestly? is he a super attractive character? I think that's debatable. He is short-tempered at times, kind of permanently semi-annoyed, closed off, snappy, indifferent at other times. He didn't strike me as the regular romantasy MMC--the banter that GAs love to wax poetic about isn't actually present very much. He is not the cavalier, banter-y, indestructible sort of hero. In some ways, he is almost off putting. And I feel that SJM was so heavy handed with him on purpose. As if to prepare people for what to expect, but also, as kind of a warning?

He is almost the exact opposite of what a large part of the fandom made him out to be. And SJM said, no, this is actually how this character is. What you saw is him. What you saw in the bonus chapter is him. Again, what GAs absolutely refuse to acknowledge and see in their beloved bonus is exactly what SJM showed in HOFAS --Azriel WAS annoyed with Gwyn, he WAS lying to her, he MADE himself appear more accommodating. That's how he is. With most people. The day after Solstice he WAS aloof, angry and silent. In HOFAS, he is mostly aloof, annoyed, and challenges both Bryce and Nesta out right when they act up. His reaction to the unfavourable mention of his mother was swift and angry. So much so that Nesta nearly cowed in front of him and apologized. Most of the time, Azriel is avoidant, secretive and resentful.

Which is why his attitude towards Elain is so stark. Essentially, he melts around her. He softens. He laughs. He is a blade that is suddenly wrapped in a marshmallow and he loves it.

I think that buried under the heap of Headcanons, fantasies, misinterpretations and willfully obtuse misreadings of canon text the 'real Azriel' emerges. A cantankerous, stiff, solitary, lonely and tired warrior. Not a bantering, ribbon-cutting dudebro. Azriel is much more Malachi Vize than Casteel, or even Rhysand.

The ONLY time we see him crack, his facade soften, his eyes brighten is when he is around Elain. Sorry. That's just how it is.

baby girl is a fucking SEER and y’all really think we just want her story for the smut 😭😭😭😭

This just further proves to me that they read through the entirety of a five (and counting) book series and absolutely glazed over anything and everything that has to do with Elain. And this is nothing new of course. It’s been talked about a billion times because this is a main trend for these people, but it still fucks with me.

“She lacks the motivations and goals to be the focal point of a book.”

You just ignored how Elain, not Nesta, was the one to show initiative first, no matter how afraid she was or struck with grief that she may have been, to step up and offer to help her sister on more than one account, with little to no reluctance. That’s quite ambitious and brave, no?

You ignored the fact that Elain was the one that had the balls to find the Cauldron (where if she didn’t, the story physically would not progress, the IC would actually be fucked), and also ignored how she was the one to warn them of the impending dangers and secrets that inevitably pointed them (and even fucking Lucien) into the right direction.

You ignored how Elain was the one who saved her sister’s life when she (Nesta) thought all was lost, and ended up laying upon the dying body of the one she knew she loved.

Ignored the fact that Elain was the one who basically ended the war, or at the very least, triggered the turning point in said war to leverage the win they struggled to achieve.

And then proceeded to glaze over the whole completely self evident, strained bond that she and Lucien share, wherein the fucking thing is scarcely even one sided.

Which catapults me into my next point.

There is no love triangle.

Elain has made it abundantly clear what she wants, and spoiler alert! It’s not the ginger. Lucien had his hopes, he tried to sway her, to get to know her per the insistences of Feyre. It was pushed, forced, and after the first or second attempt, the man ended up losing hope. He pulled away. Left to go find Vassa. The fucking woman Elain led him to by the way. Then proceeded to hunker down in her ex fiancé’s manor with her and Jurian.

Lucien tried, and he isn’t stupid, he knows that Elain doesn’t want the bond. And you can easily glean that he doesn’t either. After all, “she was nothing like Jesminda.”

(If you don’t understand the qoute babes, that’s a bad thing. Dude compares her to what he once had, showing that Elain is not the type of personality he wants in a real mate)

In the end, there is no choosing between two different men. Elain has already chosen, and she has made it perfectly fucking clear who she wants.

And for god’s sake, this ongoing idea that has festered across the fandom like the plague that Elain is this shallow, undeveloped character is so ridiculous that it makes me laugh every single time.

It IS about her being feminine and “delicate” with them. It IS about her lacking the qualities of her sisters, being “boss girl” and “bad bitch” strong, able to wield a sword or wear armor and being loud, argumentative, cocky, and confident. (And don’t get me started on the whole banter thing).

The hate toward Elain IS rooted in misogyny and I will stand by that until the day I die.

Time and again she’s called weak, unimportant, invisible, one dimensional, and even fake. Which is ironic because Elain is the closest thing to the real world woman. She craves her agency, her right to choose, and has finally begun fighting for it. Fighting against what is expected of her both by her family and by the society she now finds herself living in.

Time and again, she mentions how sick and tired she is of the way things are chosen for her. How she never seems to have a choice in the things that she values in her life. And when she finally does begin to step up for herself, she’s ignored, dismissed, or simply forced to go along with whatever the subject is at hand. No one listens to her. No one vouches for her, and only ever comes to her defense while simultaneously neglecting to confide in what she wants.

Elain is realistic. She’s incredibly relatable and, in my opinion, is well written already. This much discourse about her character proves her complexity and the irony that surrounds her.

She is a seer, one who is capable of seeing glimpses of the future, the possible fates of many. She properly wielded a magical dagger that not even its current owner knows how to actually tap into at this rate. She catapulted the story into what it is now and served a greater purpose than what people gave her credit for. She acted as a driving force that worked in the shadows again and again, saving lives countless times.

If anyone else in this damned series is ready to take the stage, it’s her. It is Elain. She has shown her ambition, she’s shown strength, she’s shown that she is perfectly capable of choosing for herself and she’ll be damned if she continues passively living her new immortal life letting everyone else pick and choose for her.

In its totality, her arc will be about choosing for herself.

The way SJM maneuvers the narrative is that Feyre, as the MC, will make an assumption in her head about Azriel (typically, because he is new to her and she spends most of her time in Prythian). And then, he will act, and it's almost the opposite of what she assumed about him.

The same happens with Elain and her sisters, or people like Lucien, and even Rhysand.

With Azriel, for example, Feyre watches him when they first visit the sisters and there is an immediate assumption on her part that he doesn't want to be there and that he is uncomfortable. Yet he turns around and acts as a gentle peacemaker and puts Elain at ease, as well as everyone else. Suddenly, Feyre realizes that he uses manners and almost a version of seduction to get the desired results.

Nesta repeatedly says how she'd do anything for Elain, how she'd protect her, and whore herself out and whatever. But she doesn't do ANY of it. Yet Elain is the one who turns around and actually starts building alliances, a future and seeking out protection for her and Nesta when they were still human.

Both Feyre and Nesta think that Elain 'doesn't get it' and that she is kind of vapid and vacuous. Yet, it turns out that Elain is the most observant of them all, and she saw everything about everyone even when she was a child. When Elain tells the IC about Nesta's dancing and her being primed to seduce a duke, Feyre acknowledges that she didn't realize any of this and Elain did.

This is a long preface for my main point.

When Feyre observes Azriel and Mor at the first Solstice and makes up this whole thing in her mind about how he is desperately desiring Mor and how he is longing for her, what does SJM do?

She turns the whole thing upside down.

What actual ACTION does Azriel perform?

He almost knocks his High Lady off her feet in his rush to wish Elain, and Elain ONLY, a Happy Solstice.

Not ONE person observed Elain's interest in Azriel. Not her sisters, not Rhysand, not Mor, not Amren, and forget Cassian.

What does Elain do?

She gifts Azriel the headache powder. Not only that, it's a gift that had to be specially commissioned through Madja.

So this supposedly 'open book' Elain who is simple and transparent, is able to do all of this without anyone having any idea.

Going back to Azriel.

Throughout the entire Solstice, he demonstrates via his ACTIONS one solitary interest. And that's for Elain.

Whether it's him staying with her till the wee hours and listening to her gardening plans, or totally ignoring everyone's gifts while absolutely losing it over hers, and of course absolutely spiraling at dinner, forbidding everyone from eating until she was ready.

These are actions that SJM wanted us to pay attention to. Why? BECAUSE THEY ARE SURPRISING EVERYONE.

Both Elain and Azriel are acting in ways that are borderline shocking to those who supposedly know them best.

The reality is that Azriel doesn't give any thoughts to Mor. All of it is what Feyre and the IC have programmed themselves to see. What SJM is showing us instead is that his focus is not on Mor at all, but solely on Elain.

That's the constant parallel that SJM's been drawing between the two characters that everyone assumes they know, but who are actually existing in a totally private reality.

Why do you all think that Rhys was so shocked when he saw Azriel and Elain about to kiss?

Because their actions don't align with his preconceived notions about both of them.

Feysand - son

Nessian - daughter

She was everything he ever needed. Everything he never thought he deserved. Everything he never knew how to ask for. And somehow, she loved him back.

@elriel-month 2025 prompt: True Will & Free Love

🦇🌸Art by raesploveart

🦇🌸Commissioned by @theseersgarden, @saraannereads, aoitavacorte, and @lunaatthezoo

🦇🌸One-shot by: me, @lunaatthezoo

See it on Instagram here

See it on X here

✨Please do not repost. Shares, likes, and comments appreciated✨

Below is a one-shot written in collaboration with this art piece. If you prefer to read it on Ao3, the link is here.

-----

Azriel was bleeding. Blood spurted from his back, his wings, and arms, as he tried to limp away from the Death Lord at his heels, raising a hand. Truth-Teller was gone, nothing but ash on the wind. And Azriel’s siphons were completely empty, flickering like candles struggling to stay lit in the wind. Death was coming for him, and in mere moments. Yet still he moved, dragging his feet with two injured legs, blood splattering the path that he walked. He made it two steps before Death pointed his hand at Azriel, golden flames erupting from his fingers.

Elain shot up in bed, clutching her chest. 

A dream, she told herself. It was only a dream. Not a vision. She squeezed her eyes shut, the hair on her forehead sticking to her sweaty skin. Not a vision. Not a vision. Not a vision. No, visions occurred when she was awake, not asleep. This had to be a dream. Still, her heart raced. She opened her eyes again, her gaze darting around her dark, empty room. She strained her ears to listen for any sounds in the Townhouse.

She knew Azriel was away on a mission, and that he wasn’t supposed to return until the next day. They had plans to meet along the Sidra tomorrow night, after the rest of Velaris would be asleep. They had been meeting in such ways for months now, since Azriel had fallen to his knees and confessed everything that had transpired last Solstice, what Rhysand had demanded of him, and how he felt about Elain. So they had started to secretly meet, exploring the new, delicate relationship blooming between them.

Elain believed the Townhouse was empty, currently. They usually did not dare meet here because of the very real possibility of any member of the family simply showing up unannounced. She sat up in bed, straining her ears. She heard nothing. Elain sighed, rubbing her face, trying to rid herself of the awful nightmare. Azriel invaded her sleep more and more these days, but usually through dreams. She saw them in the future, smiling and happy. She saw them with their family, unashamed and unafraid to show their love. She saw them in the skies, flying through sun and rain and snow. She saw them making love in beds of flowers and on mossy forest floors. 

But this was the first time he had invaded her nightmares, and she did not like it one bit. She sighed and rose from bed, wondering if a cup of tea might calm her nerves. She wrapped a light blue dressing robe over her thin nightgown and padded silently down to the kitchen.

-----

Azriel landed lightly on the veranda of the House of Wind, blood trickling from an open wound on his back. He had been on a mission in the Autumn Court, attempting to spy on Beron to glean any information about plans he may or may not have with Koschei. Azriel was highly suspicious that his loyalties had turned that direction. 

His plans had gone awry, however, when the Vanserra’s hounds unexpectedly alerted his guards of his presence. He made a quick escape, but not before one faebane-tipped arrow grazed his back. It was a shallow wound, and one that would eventually heal when the poison left his system. He had been lucky–his siphon shield had held most of the arrows at bay, his shadows whispering to him about where the winnowing wards ended on the Vanserra property. 

He had winnowed back to the Night Court as soon as he crossed the border of the wards, and then flew up to the House of Wind, where he hoped he could get some rest and heal. There wasn’t enough faebane beneath his skin to do any lasting damage, but he was exhausted by the way it began draining him regardless. He stood on the veranda at the House, whispering to his shadows to check their surroundings. He halted them as they began to bleed through the windows, however, because his ears did the job for him. Yes–there was the all-too-familiar thumping and moaning of his brother and Nesta. 

Azriel sighed, running a tired hand down his face. He did have the noise-blocking gift Elain had given him at Solstice, but those two could be fucking in any part of the house. He did not want to run into them in the sitting room or dining room, and he certainly did not want to make his shadows go searching for them. They didn’t deserve that. So Azriel used his last bit of energy to fly down to the Townhouse, where he hoped it would be empty save for one gentle gardener….

He landed lightly on the back patio. He and Elain rarely met here, as the possibility of being caught was too great, but his heart thumped in anticipation at the thought of seeing her tonight. He needed her warmth, her light, her gentle touch. She had quickly become the only thing that could soothe him, the only thing that could make him feel less lonely, less broken.

This time, he did send his shadows out to scout. He didn’t want to scare her, and he wanted to check if anyone else was in the house. They crept in under the door and returned after just a few moments, swirling around his head and whispering to him. Elain was the only person in the house, and she was already awake. He smiled, but his smile quickly turned to a frown when his shadows conveyed that she was agitated, worried. He quietly pulled open the back door and made his way to the kitchen to find her.

Azriel paused at the threshold of the kitchen. Elain was seated at the island table, watching steam billow up from a mug of tea before her. He could barely see her face because of the angle–he was mostly looking at the back and side of her head. Her hair was unbound, falling in long curls around her shoulders and down her back, and she was wrapped in a light blue dressing robe. She was so unendingly, ethereally beautiful. Despite feeling worried about her, the corner of Azriel’s lips tipped up as he closed his eyes, silently inhaling her honey and jasmine scent. 

She was everything he ever needed. Everything he never thought he deserved. Everything he never knew how to ask for. And somehow, she loved him back.

Elain turned suddenly, no doubt having scented him behind her as well, her deep brown eyes indeed full of worry. 

“Azriel!” she called in a whisper, shooting up from her seat. Her face looked drawn, her eyes tired. 

He was before her in three long strides, his hands gently grazing her cheeks. “I got back early,” he murmured, as she pulled her face out of his hands to nuzzle her head into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her. “Why do you look so worried?”

She shook her head against him and he again closed his eyes to breathe in her lullaby of a scent, relishing how she felt in his arms-where she always felt best. “I had a nightmare and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Azriel’s heart sank. He hated that she was plagued by nightmares, as if the horrible visions weren’t enough. 

“What happened?” he asked, stroking her hair as he held her. 

“You were dying,” she whispered. “Moments away from death and no one– no one could help you, Azriel.” 

He squeezed her tighter against him. 

“I’m fine, angel. I’m right here. I suffered nothing more than a graze from an arrow.”

Elain gasped, pulling away from him. “You were hurt!” she cried, her chocolate eyes growing wide. 

Azriel tried to calm her, raising a hand in dismissal. “It will heal on its own, I’m just tired. A little bit of faebane is all.”

She gasped again, her eyes scanning him wildly. “Where? What happened?” she asked, pulling away from him and circling him to see him from every angle. Azriel couldn’t help but smile at the way she was fussing over him. 

“Elain,” he tried again. “I meant it, I’m–”

But he was cut off as she discovered the hole in the leathers on his back, letting out a little squawk. 

“Take your shirt off right now,” she demanded, circling in front of him and crossing her arms. 

Azriel’s lips twitched. “I like when you command me to remove my clothes,” he murmured, reaching up and drifting a scarred thumb over her lip. 

Elain’s eyes narrowed. “I’m serious," she answered, her arms still crossed. 

Azriel couldn’t help but take advantage of the moment. He turned his back to her. “I’ve shown you where the slats are, haven't I?” he asked, knowing full well he had. “I could use some assistance. My shadows are at their wit’s end tonight.”

Elain huffed a little bit, but then got to work on releasing the slats of his shirt around his wings. It was not the first time she had done so, and Azriel tried not to let certain parts of him stir as he remembered the last time, when her hands had ended up on his wings and then Elain had ended up riding him until they both came. He cleared his throat, trying to clear his head as well. 

When the leather garment was finally peeled off his torso and tossed to the floor, Elain walked to the kitchen table, pulling out a chair for him.

“Sit,” she demanded, indicating the chair. Azriel sighed. 

“You really do not have to do anything, love. It will heal. I just need some rest.”

Her face still looked worried, drawn. “I want to. Please, let me. Let me take care of you.”

Azriel swallowed. No one had ever wanted to take care of him before. Not since his mother, when he was a little boy and permitted to see her for one hour each week. Elain’s eyes were pleading, her hands wringing in anxiety.

“Alright,” he answered gently, and strode to the chair, turning it around to straddle it so that she had access to his back. He didn’t miss Elain’s gaze roam over his muscled arms and back or the way her throat bobbed before she zeroed in on his wound again. His lips twitched once more.

“I think I have some healing salve around here somewhere. I use it frequently for gardening,” she muttered, flitting around the kitchen and throwing cabinets open. He had never seen her so flustered before. She was normally as still and graceful as himself. He relished her regardless, listening carefully to her breathing, drinking in her scent, feeling her presence heal him where it mattered–on the inside. 

-----

Elain was only somewhat comforted by Azriel’s presence. She hated to see him hurt, and hated that his position in the Court required him to be in danger so often. She knew in her heart that he would give his life to protect the Night Court, and that terrified her. She struggled to keep her swirling thoughts in check as she threw open kitchen cabinets in search of her healing salve. Azriel remained quietly watching from his seat at the table, no doubt thinking her a bumbling fool. 

Finally, she found the small jar amongst some rabble in a lower cabinet, and briefly wondered why she ever left such a valuable material there. She shook her head, running a clean cloth under the faucet, before approaching Azriel again. 

The wound was bleeding far less than it should have been, much like when he had rescued her from Hybern’s war camp. Still, it looked angry and green-tinged. The faebane was making Azriel exhausted–that was easy to see. She grimaced as he looked back at her.

“I’m going to clean it. It might hurt a bit,” she said gently, stepping close to his back. 

Shadows suddenly crept from Azriel, swirling around them and gently plucking the container of salve from Elain’s hands. The shadows were cool and soft against her skin before they floated in front of her, holding the jar for her. They almost reminded her of a puppy eager to please, and she grinned despite her worry. 

“I trust you,” Azriel finally answered softly, his eyes impossibly warm and beautiful in that moment, his long, dark lashes sweeping downwards. She couldn’t stop her smile, because she knew it was true. He did trust her, and she knew Azriel trusted so few in this life. It meant everything to her.

“Alright, I’m starting,” she murmured, gingerly bringing the wet cloth to his back. Azriel’s wings twitched ever so slightly at her touch on the wound, but he had no other outward reaction. Elain supposed that he was probably good at hiding his pain, another thought that saddened and scared her. 

“Why did you come back here if you didn’t want my help with this?” she asked, gently blotting at the wound until the blood around it began to dissipate. 

Azriel huffed before her. “I actually went to the House of Wind first. I just wanted to sleep. But Cassian and Nesta were…otherwise engaged.” 

A laugh of her own bubbled up from her. “I can’t believe you choose to live there,” she murmured, dabbing away the last of the blood. 

He turned his head once more to look at her. “If I stayed here, Elain, I would not be able to resist touching you every night. Holding you. Worshiping you.” 

Elain felt her cheeks go up in flames as she swallowed. “Would that be so wrong?” she nearly whispered, placing the bloodied cloth onto the table beside him. He reached out to catch her wrist as she did so, gently pulling her hand to his mouth. 

“No,” he murmured, kissing across her knuckles and then turning her hand over, unfurling her fingers to kiss her palm as well. He met her eyes again as he released her, a renewed warmth spreading through her chest. “Nothing about you, or us, is wrong. But we would get caught eventually, Elain. And I am not willing to risk what we have at this moment.” 

Elain felt her eyes soften as he spoke. “Nor am I,” she agreed, wishing it was not so even while knowing why it was. 

She offered him a soft smile of understanding. “May I put the salve on now?” His shadows began unscrewing the lid as soon as she asked.

He nodded, turning back towards the table and straightening his back.

“Does it hurt?” she asked him, the familiar earthy, herby scent of the salve drifting up to her nose. Madja had taught her how to make this salve herself, because Elain kept finding her with deep cuts from thorns and garden tools. “I don’t know if it will have an effect on the faebane, but it should help with any pain,” she said, scooping some of the salve out with a slender, thorn-scarred finger. 

“It only hurts a bit now. Being in your presence is enough to soothe any pain, but I appreciate it anyway,” he murmured, his face angled downwards.

Butterflies fluttered in Elain’s stomach. Azriel was so quiet around the others, but his words held so much. He always knew exactly what to say to her, how to reassure her, how to make sure she knew how much he loved her.

Elain gently swiped some of the salve over the shallow cut in Azriel’s back. He let out a gentle humming noise at her touch, and the butterflies flapped more fervently. 

“Does that feel good?” she asked softly, smoothing the salve until the wound was completely covered.

“It does,” he answered, before another rumble rose through his chest. 

“I’ll be right back,” Elain said, and strode to the bathing room, where she found a bandage. She returned to find Azriel in the same position, his head bowed and his eyes closed. She wondered for a moment if he had fallen asleep, absurd as that may be, but his eyes drifted open once more as her scent reached him. 

One side of his mouth turned up. “I don’t think I need a bandage, angel,” he murmured, clearly thinking she was fussing too much. 

She sighed, narrowing her eyes at him. “It’s the only way to keep the salve in place on your skin,” she answered. “Just use one for tonight?”

He eyed the long piece of fabric in her hands. “Alright,” he answered gently. She found it was quite easy to convince Azriel to acquiesce to her wishes, when she looked at him in just the right way.

Elain walked towards him, helplessly eager to touch him once more. 

“Lift your arms?” she asked. He did so, and she swallowed at the way his muscles rippled in the low faelights in the kitchen. 

Elain gently pressed the fabric against the wound, using her other hand to wind it around his large, strong torso. A body that she had felt more times than she ever thought she would. A body that was equally able to hold her tenderly as it was able to choke the life out of enemies. A body that was able to give her so much pleasure, she wondered how she had ever thought she had known pleasure before him. Her cheeks heated as she carefully tucked the end of the fabric underneath the binding to keep it in place. 

“All done,” she said, and before she knew what was happening, Azriel was turning, reaching for her. She let out a little squeak as he pulled her into his lap, wrapping his massive arms around her.

“Sleep in my arms tonight?” he asked, pressing tender lips to her temple. 

Elain’s breath caught. “You’re not worried?” she asked, even as she already knew she would say yes. She could never say no to him. She yearned for nothing more than to sleep in his arms each night.

“Not tonight, my love. I want you right here, all night. My shadows can keep watch for us.” 

“They don’t need to sleep?” she asked, even as he ran his broad hands over her thighs, eliciting a shiver. 

Azriel chuckled. She whipped her head to him.

“You said they were tired earlier!” 

He kissed her lightly on the lips. “I love that you worry about my shadows. They don’t get tired in the sense that you and I do. They’ll recoup overnight, even if they’re keeping watch.”

Elain’s stomach dipped as Azriel bent his head to press tender kisses across her throat. 

“So will you?” he asked, his hands drifting up to grip her hips lightly. “Sleep in my arms tonight?”

“I will,” she whispered, her hands sliding up his neck to tangle in his hair.

She felt him smile against her neck, and then he was standing, arms beneath her, lifting her against his chest. 

“Then let’s go to bed,” he murmured, shadows gathering around them. 

- threatened/beat the piss out of eris for disrespecting feyre

- killed the hybern soldiers at sangravah

- helped cassian hunt the men that abused his mother

- went after the illyrians that continued the practice of wing clipping when rhys was UTM

but lucien befriends abusive men, and stays with them, even after knowing of their abusive nature.

- tamlin, who hurt feyre

- jurian, who abused, tortured and killed amarantha's sister and made not one, but two gangr*pe jokes about elain.

- greysen, who rejected elain and left her crying and catatonic for weeks.

We know that elain will be in dangerous situations and I hope that az is right by her side ready to defend her by any means necessary. I want to see him use physical violence and threats to defend her. To be a menacing presence at her side daring anyone to try.

Growling and snarling. Wings flaring. Shadows gathering and surrounding ready to strike any threat to her. Unable to be calmed down by anyone but elain when he goes into protective mode. Give me the azriel at the highlords meeting choking out eris, careful how you talk to my high lady azriel, eyes glazed with rage ready to rescue elain no matter the risk azriel.

Writing these scenes are hard, people. I am truly valuing every writer out there, my GOOD LORD!

And yet, his so-called fans (=the gwynriel and elucien shippers) love to call him entitled, selfish, disgusting (because he dared to fantasize about Elain, a female character they hate), stupid, immature and fickle. They will legit make him into a fuckboi in their imagination rather than accept that he has feelings for Elain, only because they don't like that, only because he's not having these feelings for the character they ship him with.

That's Azriel's biggest crime--he didn't fall for Gwyn. Because he's having some very valid, deep rooted romantic feelings for Elain, he ought to be dragged through the mud.

I'm truly astounded by the Azriel slander in this fandom. Like tell me you don't understand or love a character without telling me.