Although the race had begun at a breakneck speed, the brothers had since settled into a quiet rhythm with one another, gliding and soaring through the stars before resting for most of the morning on the northwestern border of Day, napping in the warm sun on a cliff edge overlooking the sea. Rhys had produced a meal for them through his magic, and they lazed together in the beach grass, listening to the waves crash on the shore, swapping stories of their pasts and dreams of their future, always ribbing and joking.
It was refreshing.
Azriel mused that he had missed these times with his brothers. Ever since they had both been mated, and then even more after Nyx was born, it was seldom they were ever able to spend time like this together. It didn't help that Azriel had barely been able to be at the River House over the past year, his frustrations over Elain causing him to avoid the manor altogether, opting for the House of Wind. But when that had been overtaken by Nesta and Cassian's... explorations... it felt like he had been exiled yet again.
But they were his only family. And though his brothers may be receiving the emotional and social satisfaction of the bond with their mates, Azriel was left with only his shadows to listen to his thoughts. The realization tugged at something within him, and he felt his eyes drift to Rhys, the order on Solstice chafing at his mind, begging to be challenged.
Azriel smiled, sipping the cup of coffee the High Lord had produced for them, his eyes trained on the horizon. "You know Rhys, if you truly wanted me to stop panting after Elain, then you should have spent more time with me. Maybe I've been lonely."
Rhys looked toward him, a question arching his brow as a smile curled his lips. Cassian whipped toward Azriel, nearly dropping his own cup of coffee. "Elain? What? When did that happen?"
"That's what I'm saying." Azriel quipped, ignoring his brother's questions. "We've spent such little time together that you don't even know what's going on anymore."
"I do know what's going on with you. I sure as hells know you were mad at me for ordering you to stay away from her." Rhys drawled, standing up and casting his eyes from Azriel, toward the cresting waves of the ocean. "If the rocks in the snowballs at Solstice were any indication."
Laughing, Azriel leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as Cassian mimicked the movement. "Mother Az, Rhys never has to pull rank on us. What did you do?"
"He tried to fuck her while she was still sharing a roof with Lucien." Rhys answered as Cassian gaped at the Shadowsinger. "My roof, to be exact."
"I did not try to fuck her." Azriel quipped, throwing his hands behind him and leaning back, crossing his legs at the ankle. "She was receptive."
"Receptive or not, she's mated." Rhys shot back.
Azriel felt his shadows begin to hiss and swirl, angered on his behalf, ready to strike as he faced the High Lord who stared back at him with a hard glare, his posture shifting toward Azriel, ever so slightly, into a defensive position.
Sensing the tension, Cassian rose, slinging an arm around Rhysand's shoulders as he walked by, pulling the High Lord to the ground as he wrapped his other arm around Azriel's shoulders. Patting both their arms lightly, they turned to stare at him right as the general's arms shot toward his chest, pinning both their necks in the crooks of his elbows, their faces nose-to-nose, cheeks smashed into Cassian's chest. Rhys began to struggle, trying to pull his head from Cassian's death grip as Azriel merely relaxed, chuckling and closing his eyes.
"Ah ah ah. No use struggling. Rhys may have his power and magic, and Az, you may have your wingspan," Azriel let out a chuckle, attempting again to wrench his head away, "but we all know that I am the strongest." Rhys began to laugh then as well, throwing his weight to the side as Cassian gripped their necks tighter.
"So, I say we come to a compromise." Cassian's voice boomed across the cliff edge. "Azriel gets to slap Rhys across the face for being such a happily mated daddy, enjoying the spoils of his perfect life while stopping Azriel from having his way with Elain."
And at that, the Shadowsinger let out a bellowing laugh as Rhys scowled toward his brothers, desperate to free himself from Cassian's grip. "And Rhys gets to keep his orders, AND say 'I told you so' at Elain and Lucien's wedding."
A searing pain shot through Azriel's chest at the last few words of Cassian's proposal, but he grunted his consent as Rhys did the same, releasing the brothers and brushing his hands together, wiping away the sand.
Rhys turned his face toward Azriel and nodded his head. "I'm sorry. Not for my orders, but for the pain they have caused you Az. I hope you don't feel like I'm throwing my blessings in your face." His shoulders drooped slightly.
"I forgive you." Azriel took a step toward his High Lord, reaching a hand to Rhys' shoulder. "And I don't hold your happiness against you. You deserve it, and I've wanted this for you for centuries."
Rhys broke into a broad smile, closing the gap and embracing the Shadowsinger into a warm hug. Azriel hugged him back, his heart feeling slightly mended at the comfort of his brother's embrace.
After a moment though, Azriel pulled back from the embrace, resting his hands on the High Lord's shoulders, smiling warmly toward him, and gently cupping his face. "But I definitely don't regret the rocks." He crooned.
And as Rhys' face broke into a question, Azriel pulled back his hand and slapped his High Lord across the jaw.
Rage and offense erupted from the High Lord, dark nighted wings flaring behind him as Azriel smirked, launching into the sky, calling over his shoulder, "see you in Patras losers!"
Bellowing night, laughter, and roaring trickled after him as Azriel grinned, soaring toward the sun, laughing along to the rhythm of the coast. It felt so good to be back with them. His family.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
Elain pulled at her skirts, walking down the long corridor toward the sound of the music.
Nuala and Cerridwen had indeed done her up, "Day Court Style," and Elain was slightly regretting the request. She felt almost naked, her skin exposed for the rest of the court to see, though the wraiths had doused it in golden powder and glitter, causing Elain to look as if she was glowing with the opulent metal, her skin vaguely reminding her of the gold-flecked marble Helion favored. Cerridwen had enchanted Elain's hair so that it fell pin straight, flowing off her shoulders and down, nearly to the top of her curved backside.
She glanced down at her feet marching on the cold marble, coiled in a type of high-heeled footwear she had seen other ladies of the Day Court wearing. Her foot was arched upward, the heel of the shoe lifting her leg muscles, coiled strands of crisscrossing golden ribbons tying all the way up to her exposed thighs.
Which were nearly shaking with nerves.
Stopping the march toward the thrumming courtyard, Elain paused, resting her hand on an arched and curtained column that jutted out into a sumptuous lounge. The room was covered in cushions on the floors, trays of wine and champagne covering every surface. Helion's event planners had probably anticipated revelers would tire of the main event, seeking quieter areas for their... intimate activities.
Glancing up at the ceiling, she caught sight of one of Helion's explicit murals, two fae tangled together, the female seemingly screeching in ecstasy as the male thrust into her, her legs spread wide as she held her own breast to his mouth.
Heavens.
Elain dropped her gaze back toward the room and grabbed a fluted glass of champagne. She wasn't sure she could do this sober. Alcohol had helped her pull Azriel into an alcove. Maybe it would help her seduce her mate.
Downing two glasses and strengthening her resolve, Elain continued her march down the corridor, realizing vaguely that her swift walking had transformed to a catlike saunter as she swung the empty glass of champagne in her left hand, her right trailing across the cool marble.
She could do this. She could seduce her mate. And she could maybe even try to enjoy herself while doing it.
Sex was just sex after all. It was just screeching in ecstasy as you were thrust into... and maybe it didn't matter who was doing the thrusting.
And as the thought doused her in a wave of champagne-heady arousal, she realized she had arrived to the courtyard, Lucien already waiting for her at the top of the steps, holding his hand toward Elain, a look of shocked interest on his face.
She smiled gleefully toward him, excited for the challenge, taking his hand with a nod as he pulled her toward him, murmuring into her hair. "You are a vision."
Channeling Nesta, Elain smiled at him with the most sensuous smile she could muster before stepping in the lead, hands clasped behind her back, still holding his, and leading HIM across the party, her hips swaying as she stepped to the rhythm of the drums.
The champagne was not completely dousing her senses and she felt slightly foolish in this outfit, but also desperate. Desperate to forget a certain someone and desperate to get this gods-damned mating bond to click.
Arriving to the center of the torch-lit dance floor, she reached toward him, clasping her hands behind his neck and fluttering her lashes, allowing the champagne to blur her mind even more. The low drum beat of the Calanmai orchestra was heaving, and she allowed her hips to sway to the beat as Lucien gazed down into her eyes. No one would have ever guessed that they had gotten into a mother-loving fight only six hours ago. They were looking at each other like they were the last female and male alive on this planet.
And she knew it was insane, but it was also invigorating.
Because he was finally looking at her.
His eye watching her dance, finally paying attention to her. She had him. She knew it. The music swelling, she allowed him to twirl her, throwing out her chest, her hair swishing across her back, the golden dust on her skin catching in the dim light. He pulled her back toward him and she pressed her stomach to his, reaching toward his face and swaying.
And with all her mental energy she reached, she pulled, and she grasped for the bond; for anything to prove the Cauldron right. And as she pulled, she felt Lucien lean toward her, his breath hot on her face.
Instinctively Elain felt her body pull away, trying to get distance, screaming at her that it wasn't right, that he wasn't right, but she fought the urge, forcing herself to stare up at him, willing his lips toward her.
He leaned closer, his mouth only a breath away when suddenly he caught sight of something across the room and dropped his hands from her waist, striding past her, a single word erupting from his chest.
"Vassa!"
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
Azriel could not believe his eyes when he saw Elain.
He hardly recognized her.
Her eyes were darkened and lined with kohl, winged upward, transforming their doe shape into feline. Her mouth was painted a deep red, highlighting her plump lips, a smile that reminded him of Nesta curling the corners upward. Her hair was pin straight, swishing behind her, falling thick and heavy behind her shoulders. Her perfect hips were slung with a white skirted fabric, set low, exposing her hip bones and belted with a golden chain. He watched as she sauntered, her mother-blessed legs striding out from symmetrical slits in her skirt, nearly up to the low belt, her feet nestled in high-heeled slippers coiled in ribbons all the way to her thighs.
Her thighs.
Azriel's eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the sight of them, curved and wrapped like a present in those golden ribbons, peeking from the enormous slits. Her entire stomach was uncovered, the creamy skin coated in golden dust, her arms, her stomach, her legs... she was positively glowing with it. And her breasts... mother help everyone who set eyes on Elain Archeron tonight, because above her exposed navel his eyes travelled the length of her rib cage, stopping at the single piece of fabric tight to her breasts, a bandeau of silk wrapped in golden chains and ribbons.
She was a goddess.
Completely and utterly perfect.
But yet, he felt concern wash over him.
And it wasn't because of what she was wearing... or more what she WASN'T wearing. Azriel didn't give a damn about what she was wearing: as long as she was happy.
And that was the issue.
He could tell Elain wasn't happy. An almost hysterical panicked edge laced her movements as she lead the fox to the dance floor, an unnatural posture settling beneath the mask of seduction. She seemed uncomfortable, though certainly doused in some sort of alcohol, it seemed that she was intent on gaining her mate's attention, her hands clasped at his neck.
Perhaps it was because Azriel was so studied in the ways of Elain Archeron, or maybe it was because he knew what she truly looked like when she wanted to be kissed, but as he watched her gaze at the fox, twirling and dancing, he knew that she did not want to be there. That she was forcing herself.
His wings began to flare protectively, shadows cascading from him, seeking answers, roaming the corridors, trying to figure out why in the hells she was doing this, or more accurately, WHO in the hells was doing this to her.
When Azriel had landed in Patras an hour earlier with his brothers, winning the race and basking in the pleasure of their company, he realized he had no idea what to expect when he entered the Calanmai celebrations tonight. As they changed into the Day Court clothing offered by Helion's servants, the attendants fastening the silks on one shoulder, golden chains wrapping their waists, their legs exposed with the short fabric similar to what they wore a month ago on the riverboat, Azriel had let his thoughts float to a forbidden place, musing to himself about what he was about to witness at this party.
Part of him had wanted to believe that the past month of isolation in the woods, with that damned nightmare haunting him, of Elain and Lucien happily celebrating their bond, would be enough to prepare him for the inevitable happy couple he was about to walk in on.
But he had not imagined this.
He had not imagined watching Elain acting completely different from the female he had come to know. That she would be transformed into this seducing creature, grabbing toward her mate, and dancing with him like this so publicly.
The thought was bitter and rancid in his mind, and he began to draw his shadows around him, slinking into the darkness beyond when he saw Elain angle her head toward the fool, and against his instincts, Azriel paused, stunned into imobility as his worse nightmare played out before him.
Her beautiful golden arms were now wrapped around the fox, her head angled toward his face, the long straight hair skimming the back of her low-slung skirt as the fireling leaned toward her. Azriel's breath began to accelerate as he watched Lucien draw toward Elain's perfect face in only a way Azriel had done, but not before the fireling suddenly dropped his hands from her waist, striding past her and calling out a single name.
"Vassa!"