Elain wiped the sweat from her brow as she adjusted her sunhat and leaned back onto her ankles. The sound of wooden sparring swords thumping and clashing carried over her flowerbeds, drawing her attention from the azalea she was replanting. Elain reluctantly peeked her head over the raised garden bed to get a better view of the training session. Azriel was sparring with Gwyn, her bouncing red ponytail flashing in the sun, a smile beaming across her freckled cheeks as she danced around the Shadowsinger, dodging the blows and gracefully avoiding the surrounding plants and flowers.
Elain sighed.
They looked good together.
A Valkyrie and the High Lord of the Night Court's Shadowsinger. They seemed like opposites in many ways; the light around Gwyn dancing and reflecting off her sparkling eyes as she blocked blow after blow while Azriel's shadows pooled and billowed around his ankles and wings. Elain couldn't help but frown.
The Valkyeries had been taking up practice in Helion's garden courtyards during the afternoons Elain spent exploring her magic with plants.
Azriel had been leading Emerie and Gwyn through their typical training in sword fighting, dagger work, and to Elain's chagrin; hand-to-hand combat. Lucien had been joining her recently as well, forgoing the pegasus rides with Helion to spend time in Elain's company. She wondered vaguely if the presence of a certain winged male had anything to do with Lucien's sudden interest in following her around the gardens, but she did not mind. If they were to be together for the rest of her life, then she wanted to show him her newfound magic.
Sandrielle had been helping Elain hone some of her power recently, and the two females had discovered that Elain could manipulate the very movement or growth of plants by concentrating her power toward them. Just yesterday, Elain had moved an entire tree branch, and two days ago, she had manipulated a lilac bush to grow entirely new stems out of thin air. Upon this discovery, a delighted Helion had joined her and the High Priestess in the gardens, following them around the courtyards, directing her toward different plants and shrubs, excitedly clapping every time she grew a flower larger or caused a fruit tree to blossom. The High Lord had showered her with his typical litany of compliments, declaring that Elain's residence in Velaris had been a crime against Prythian, though he was pleased that the jewel had come to stay in his palace.
Rolling her eyes to herself with a smile, Elain fingered an azalea bloom through her thumb and forefinger, and reached to pick up her gardening sheers. Lucien was leaning against the raised flowerbed beside her, his back to the Valkyrie training session. His arms were crossed and he had resting back, eyes closed, soaking in the warm Day Court sun. Elain wondered if Lucien felt at home in Patras... if the sunshine somehow felt more comfortable to him than the bristling dead leaves of the Autumn Court.
Ever since Feyre's revelation, she had not been able to tear her eyes away whenever Helion and Lucien interacted, wondering when and how the information of Lucien's paternity would surface. IF it would ever surface.
Drawing her eyes back toward the clashing swords, Elain watched as Azriel and Gwyn sparred across the small courtyard. Azriel was forcing Gwyn backward, jabbing and lunging with the wooden sword, the Priestess narrowly dodging and twirling, almost like she was dancing. But she was no match for the Shadowsinger, who seemed to be toying with her before growing weary of the sparring, flipping around and taking her from behind, his arm wrapped across her collarbones, a scarred hand gripping shoulder with Truth Teller raised to the side of her neck. Gwyn shrieked, laughing and pulling at his arm, begging for release as she lifted her feet from the ground, kicking and thrashing.
Elain watched, her eyes glued to the duo as they struggled, as she saw Azriel's hand release, a rare smile breaking across his tanned face.
And Elain heard, rather than saw the heavy garden sheers fall from her hands, cracking beneath on the marble. Lucien, startled from the noise sprang up into a fighting stance and reached for a dagger on his bandolier.
"Oh! Whoops!" Elain fussed, her eyes shooting toward Lucien before flashing toward the training ring. "It's nothing, I just dropped my shears. Actually, I think I might be feeling faint, I think I should—"
Her voice dropped off as she realized that she truly DID feel faint. Drawing her hand to her temple she turned to Lucien.
"Would you bring me to my room? I'd like to rest."
And no sooner had she breathed the question had Lucien swept her into his arms, striding through the garden, past a curtained archway, and down one of Helion's long corridors. Sighing, Elain rested her head on his chest, closing her eyes, and allowing her heart rate to slow. Breathing in his scent of tangy cinnamon and sandalwood, she felt a tear curl down her cheek, landing softly on her hand.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
"Let go!" Gwyn's laughing voice rang sharply in Azriel's ears, startling him as he released her from the arm lock, and began blinking.
He had just watched Vanserra sweep a faint Elain into his arms and out of the courtyard through a curtained archway. Grinding his jaw, he stretched his muscled arms, releasing his balled fists and glancing down at Gwyn.
"The way to get out of an arm lock is by shifting your weight, stepping back into your attacker—"
"Reaching for your own weapon, ignoring the chokehold, and pushing it back into the attacker's abdomen. I know, I know." Gwyn finished his sentence, her sparkling smile beaming toward him playfully.
He nodded, not bothering to waste another second, and muttered a farewell before he found himself following the route the mates had just taken, through the courtyard and down the corridor. Dissolving into shadow, Azriel traversed the palace, until he spotted the couple sitting on a bench within an alcove farther down the corridor.
Seeing the mates together, Elain with her leg crooked on the seat, facing Vanserra with a wide and open expression, hanging on his every word... he suddenly realized how intrusive he was behaving. Azriel was dangerously close to eavesdropping, and they deserved their privacy. Though he was a Spymaster, this was not his mission.
He allowed himself to retreat back into shadow, but instead of heading back to the courtyard, Azriel decided to return to his rooms, maybe even try to reach out to Rhys to see if there was extra work to be done, or organize his paperwork. He took the long way, circling nearly the entire palace, so as to avoid the mated pair, before exiting through an arched hallway and into Helion's personal vineyard.
Walking slowly through the vines, Azriel's mind drifted and floated, thinking over the past few weeks.
Elain and Lucien had clearly become much closer than before Calanmai, and although there seemed to be little chemistry, it was clear that they were not enemies. Or acquaintances. Maybe, they had become friends. And he knew that the day they surpassed friendship, he would be able to spot it from a mile away, because Elain had once shifted from looking toward him in friendship to something more.
Back before Calanmai.
And he HATED seeing her with Vanserra. Even though they were mates. Even though he had no chance in hells. He hated it. Now that Azriel had tasted her, seen her face release into golden ecstasy, it was impossible to be around her without hungering for her. Her time. Her attention. Her body, and quite truthfully... her love.
And sometimes when he was near her, he swore he could scent her, like a phantom smell, that beautiful heaven-sent aroma of her arousal. But it was probably just his mind, playing tricks and torturing him, unwilling to let him go. It was worse than it had ever been with Mor. A million trillion times worse. Because Morrigan had never slept with Azriel; she had never so much as kissed him. It had been easier to wait for her because he had not known what it could be.
But with Elain, not only did he feel stronger toward her than he ever did in the five hundred years with Mor, even before Calanmai, but now he also had a taste of how electrifyingly incredible it could be between them.
Because it had been unlike anything he had ever experienced with a female in his five centuries.
They hadn't even truly explored the full extent of their chemistry, and it was already better than any bedding Azriel had ever participated in with any other female.
Frustration billowed from his wings and he stretched them, trying to shake off the emotions as he realized he was nearing his rooms. Turning down another row of grapes, Azriel began to walk slower, throwing his eyes up toward the sky. Why was life so fucking unfair?
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
Striding down the corridor tucked in Lucien's arms, Elain felt the tear begin to well. She removed her straw hat, pulling it behind Lucien's neck and holding it by a ribbon in her clasped hands. She tucked her face toward the ground, eager to hide her emotion from her mate when his voice murmured softly above her head.
"It is difficult to move on from a love we once had." Lucien whispered quietly, his lips brushing against her hair.
Elain's breathing caught, her body stunned and rigid as she felt her heart rate explode into a sprint. "I-- uh, that's... "
"It's okay." Lucien's whisper cut through her broken reply.
She released her breath, allowing her eyes to drift along the patterns of the marble floor beneath them. "How did you know?" Her voice was small, her shame and fear rising up her throat in a ball of anxiety.
"I understand how you feel in a way." Lucien ignored her question, still speaking quietly into her curls. "I once had a love that was cut short by things outside my control. Her name was Jesminda."
Still walking, Elain's hands clasped around his neck, she raised her head, tilting her face to look at Lucien, who did not meet her eyes.
"She was my first love, but she was not High Fae. My father killed her to separate us."
The horror of Lucien's words rang through Elain, causing her to release a gasp, her hand drawing away from his neck to instinctively cover her mouth. "That's horrific! How could your own father— Lucien I'm so sorry."
He finally dropped his gaze to her, slowing his pace slightly as he adjusted her weight, hoisting her up toward his chest.
And as if just realizing that he was still carrying her, Elain squeaked out, "you can put me down. There's a bench, let's sit there." She motioned toward an alcove, outfitted with a cushioned reading bench.
Lucien headed over, depositing Elain gently on the cushions and settling in next to her as he continued his story. "It was a very long time ago. But that was the reason I left the Autumn Court: why I went to live in Spring."
"With Tamlin. Your friend." She clasped her hands in front of her, the intensity of his story washing over her. Lucien had been through so much heartache in his immortal life, and here she was, adding another layer to it.
"Yes. Tamlin took me in and became my family. Much like the Illyrians from the Night Court, we became brothers not by blood, but by choice."
"And now you are separated. Because of me and my sisters." Elain dropped her eyes, feeling wave after wave of shame and guilt wash over her.
"No. Tamlin's choices are his own: they are not your fault. Or Feyre's. I think that things happen the way they are meant to happen." He reached over, raising her chin to him. "Like the Cauldron.'"
The Cauldron. She gazed into his eyes, searching deeply.
"What would have happened," Elain looked at him with trepidation before closing her eyes and turning her face from his hand. "If Jesminda had not been killed by your father? But if you were with her, happy and in love when I was made. What would you have done if you had met me while you were still in love with her?"
The weighted question hung in the air and Elain stared down at her clasped hands as a Day Court servant passed by rolling a cart of linens to be washed and folded.
"I don't know." Lucien answered, his voice filled with emotion.
She turned to face him again, questions flooding her eyes.
"I truly don't know." He repeated. "Would you have stayed with Grayson, your fiancé, for the rest of his mortal life? If he had not rejected you?"
Elain paused, the question swirling in the air. The fact that he even knew the name of her former fiancé caused yet another crest of guilt to wash over her. How long had Lucien been observing her, gathering facts, and learning, only for her to not even glance his way?
"I don't know either." She answered, honesty wreathing her words.
She drew a leg onto the bench, folding it in front of her and facing him.
"What will our life look like? What if I accept the bond between us but it takes me many years to fall into it? What if I can never give you what you seek? The love? Could you be happy?"
Turning to face her, Elain saw sadness resting on his shoulders, his eyes full of sorrow. He took a deep breath.
"My parents had a bond that was not a love match though they were mates. And I watched it slowly suck the life out of my mother, bit by bit." Elain's eyes widened.
Was he insinuating that they— was this? Perhaps he wanted to let go of...? Her mind darted toward the conversation with Feyre and Nesta three weeks ago: that Elain was to be the next Lady of Autumn. Did Lucien want to prevent that?
"However, I always believed that if my father was not a cruel male— if he was good and honorable and kind— that my mother would have eventually been happy with him. I think that a mating bond can be twisted when one of the partners is abusive or cruel." He finished, leaning back in to the cushion and folding his hands on his knee.
"So you believe that if both mates are honorable and kind, that even if there is not love in the beginning, that because the cauldron brought them together, there could eventually be success."
"I believe that yes," Lucien began, drawing her eyes toward him. "And I believe that even if one of the mates begins the bond while loving another fae other than their mate entirely," he glanced her way as she felt heat rising to her cheeks and ears. "that the time, companionship, and blessed offspring of the Cauldron would be enough for them to love one another eventually. I believe that the love of a mate, a good mate, will outlast a temporary love."
Elain nodded slowly, realizing that Lucien was indeed in it for the long haul. That he might not even mind that her heart was drawn toward Azriel. He truly believed, she realized, that he would win in the end.
"I see." She answered quietly, for she had no other words to offer him. "I think I'll still rest if that's okay."
Nodding, he leaned over, ready to scoop her up again, but she drew back. "I can walk. Thank you though."
She bowed her head in farewell, rising from the bench and sweeping her skirts behind her, striding toward the exterior columns, emotion swelling in her chest. She knew she was no longer headed toward her rooms, but Elain felt her instincts drawing her to the outdoors, towards Helion's vineyard.
She needed to be in nature.
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
Azriel sauntered through the vineyards, his mind beginning to calm as he forced the image of the mates out of his brain, focusing instead on the wind blowing through the thick vines, twisting and gnarled, their stems and roots planted deep in the grassy soil. Striding down one row, he decided to double-back to another one, his mind shifting toward his impending paperwork, the scent of the grapes suddenly mingling with honey. And Jasmine.
Azriel's shadows shot out from his wings, scanning the area in a single sweep as his eyes rested upon the sight of golden-brown curls, falling to the tiny waist of a silky peach gown.
Elain.
Azriel watched as Elain sauntered through the vineyard ahead of him, her hand hovering over the grapevines. As she touched the plants, they seemed to shudder and draw near, almost hungering for her presence. With slow steps, she was working her way down the vines, seemingly lost in her thoughts until he saw her raise her hand and drop it in a quick motion, causing the entire row to lift and fall back as well. It was as if an extremely strong breeze had blown across the vines in that specific row, the grapes and leaves bristling and falling in her wake.
"Taking our frustrations out on innocent grapes, are we?" His voice boomed behind her, causing her to startle with a shriek, whirling to face him, her doe eyes wide with surprise.
Elain let out a breath, dropping her hand from her creamy chest, the low-cut gown accentuating her breasts with a ruffle that Azriel felt he would do anything to touch. She averted her eyes from him, looking across the vineyard. "I'm just..."
"Experimenting?" He ventured a guess at the same time she finished with, "working through some things."
He cracked a small smile as she chuckled lightly. Turning, she faced away from him, drawing her hand back over the vines, allowing her magic to bristle the grapes. Azriel noticed the vine's brown leaves returning to green as she passed by, the grapes covered in a light mist, becoming even more plump than before. He followed after her at a short distance, his wings tucked behind him, and his hands clasped behind his back. He couldn't help but follow Elain wherever she wanted to go.
"Sandrielle, Gwyn, and I have cataloged my powers, and it seems there is a pattern forming." She glanced behind slightly, and he nodded, interest flooding his expression.
"It seems that I have influence over the plants at will, but my visions are random. I can control the health and growth, and sometimes even the type of plant that I am interacting with, but the visions choose to come when an event is on the horizon."
He noticed her voice catch slightly on the last few words, and he vaguely wondered if she had had new visions since the river.
"And the golden light?"
"Seems to occur when I am in extreme distress or in a heightened emotional state. Sandrielle believes that it is a form of protective light. Magic that can be cast around myself in defense, or even for escape. Like winnowing." Elain's voice had gotten stronger as she spoke of her newfound abilities, and Azriel found himself smiling in spite of himself, happy to see her pleasure at discovering her gifts.
"I see." He said.
She paused her sauntering suddenly, turning to face him, a smile resting on her sweet face. "Sandrielle has been an unexpected blessing throughout my time in Patras. I wanted to learn of my powers with her, but she has become more than a mentor to me. Almost like a maternal figure... it's very healing." Elain said the last couple words more to herself than to the Shadowsinger, and he construed as much when she suddenly blushed and faced away, taking her hand up against the vines again.
"Your mother was not maternal?" He asked the question quietly, his hands still clasped behind him, following her.
Elain laughed. "In short, no, she wasn't. Imagine Nesta, as she was before Cassian, but more interested in social climbing."
"Hm." Azriel hummed, urging her to continue.
"She was not the kind of mother I hope to be someday." She said the words quietly. "But my father, even though he had his difficult years... "
"He came for you in the end." Azriel's voice was low, recalling the battle with Hybern, Elain's father killed by the King before she stabbed the mongrel in the neck with Truth Teller.
"Yes he did."
He could hear the grief-stricken smile on her lips.
"Azriel." Elain said after a quiet moment, and he felt as if his heart had jumped out of his body, hearing her say his name. "You never speak of your family." She turned toward him.
"They are not worth the breath it would take to speak of them. Except my mother. I guess I have you beat in that category; my mother is lovely."
She nodded, and Azriel felt his guard drop, ever so slightly, as she cocked her head, a frown creasing her face. "But your other family, they mistreated you."
He nodded. "My father and brothers..." his voice broke off, unable, or perhaps unwilling to share that part of himself with her at this moment.
Elain stepped closer to him, ever so slightly, and he saw her hands begin to reach toward him before hesitating and pulling back to hug her own waist.
"I'm sorry that you did not have the love you deserved as a child. I wish..." Her voice dropped off as Azriel felt his heartbeat increase, suddenly needing to close the space between them, to feel her warmth, to have those beautiful magical fingers stroke his jaw and run through his hair, comforting his very soul.
"I hope justice was served." Her voice rang out, a cold tone blanketing her syllables.
Azriel blinked, cringing as he realized what she was inferring, his mind firing in a hundred directions. Here was this golden goddess of all things beautiful and pure; her very fingertips watering and growing the plants she touched. And then there was Azriel; a Shadowsinger, tortured as a child only to become a master of torture as a grown male. A King of Darkness in a way even the High Lord of the Night Court was not. Because Azriel had a vindictive side to himself. A dark and rage-filled side, malicious, and eager to prey upon evil. And he had served justice upon his wretched family.
Slowly. Painfully. Mercilessly.
And he was not sure how she would react to such knowledge.
When he did not reply, Elain turned back toward the grapes, running her hand along the vine as she spoke. "Many people think of gardening as a sweet woman's hobby for daft or silly girls." Glancing behind her to see that he was still following her, she continued.
"But gardening is not daft, and it is not silly. It is ruthless." Her voice turned a shade darker. "You must cut. You must prune. And you must sever the invading plants, weeding them from the desired plants, so that harmony may flow within the flowerbed. If you allow the weeds to thrive, you essentially doom the other plants, the beautiful and good ones, to die."
Azriel felt himself drawing closer to her, his eyes glued to her hand trailing over the grapes, his heart focused on every word from her mouth.
"It is essential to separate the evil plants from the good, but more than that, they must be tossed away, not even allowed to live. Gardening is truly ruthless."
She stopped, turning toward him and dropping her hand from the vine. "But it is also a testament to how our world functions. The fae realm or the human realms; it does not matter. If you plant an orange seed, you grow an orange tree. If you plant seeds in the fall, you will have harvests in the spring. The seeds you reap, you will come to sow."
Elain paused as an otherworldly darkness flooded her doe eyes. "I hope your brothers reaped what they sowed."