Elriel Oneshots

Distractions

A/N: It gets a liiiiittle steamy, but nothing past some kissing and moaning ;) Enjoy! Don't forget to vote and comment!

"Azriel, darling, can you help me?"

The Illyrian peered over his shoulder at his wife, who was wrestling with a jar of marionberry preserves. A corner of his mouth quirked up as Elain readjusted her grip and tried to twist the lid off. Her brows furrowed in concentration, strands of hair escaping from the bun she'd put up earlier.

It still amazed him—their relationship, that is. After the war, they all had scars. Some more visible than others. Yet, despite those differences, some unseen force brought him and Elain closer than ever before.

Silent walks through the gardens slowly turned into conversations. Conversations turned into meetings. Meetings turned into life. And their lives became intertwined like the vines of night-blooming jasmine.

They hadn't tried to hide it—not really. The rest of their friends were definitely aware of their relationship just as he was aware of their incessant gossiping. Yet, warmth still bloomed in his chest whenever he recalled the way Elain looked at him that night. The night he'd finally mustered up the courage to confess his feelings for her. To let go of whatever safety he felt in pining after a certain golden-haired female. The night he finally freed himself of his own dusty dungeon.

Her hair had been swept into a knot on top of her head by Cerridwen and Nuala, who'd also adorned her head with sparkling golden pins and small clusters of baby's breath. Seeing her waiting for him in the garden under the moonlight nearly brought him to his knees. Dressed in a flowing pale pink gown, she was embodied everything that he knew her to be. Sweet. Elegant. But also practical, he'd noted as her sandals peeked out from under her skirt.

As he approached her, his resolve wavered a little more. As he approached her, the moonlight that bathed Velaris illuminated her cheek and her eyes. She was moonlight, bright and calming yet somehow exciting.

Looking into her eyes in that moment was the most difficult task in all of his five centuries of life. No matter how hard he tried, and no matter how much he wanted to drown in them, he couldn't bring himself to look at her more than a few seconds at a time. It didn't matter that they were less than a foot apart. It didn't matter that her hands were on his chest and his hands were on her waist. It didn't matter that he'd met her at midnight in the garden to tell her he loved her.

She'd simply smiled up at him and cupped his cheek, her thumb tracing his upper lip. "It's alright, Azriel. Don't be afraid."

Minutes of silence followed. Azriel, despite Elain's statement, despite the tenderness that she spoke with, couldn't bring himself to do it. With the way she looked at him with her brown doe eyes, he had no doubt that she knew everything.

"I know why you're here," she said softly, looking up at him. Her eyes flickered down to his lips, and as her thumb traced his lips again it took every ounce of willpower not to give in. "I know what you're going to say. And I...I love you, too. But I need you to say it. Not for me, but for yourself."

He wasn't sure if he could still speak. But, after moments of utter silence, he proclaimed, "I love y-"

"Azriel?" Elain's voice cut through his thoughts.

He blinked, suddenly back in their apartment. He took in the kitchen, the potted herbs sitting on the windowsill, and the high fae standing no more than five feet from him.

"Azriel," she said again, this time more urgent. Her eyes darted back and forth between him and the stove.

The next thing to hit him was the smell of burning toast.