Elain
Elain stared out the window, trying to ignore the crowds of fae below. She swallowed, the lump in her throat growing steadily.
Light footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to see Lucien approaching, dressed in one of Helion's fancier white togas, the edges of which were trimmed in gold that reflected in every beam of sunlight.
"How are you?" Lucien asked, his mechanic eye darting back and forth. "I'm aware everything happened so quickly."
"Thank you for checking in. I really appreciate it," Elain replied, meaning every word. "We're moving fast, but it feels manageable. I only worry that, while we feel in control now, that will change soon."
Lucien sidled up next to her, placing a gentle hand on the small of her back. Surprisingly, she didn't flinch from his touch. "I hope we can keep it so that we're in control, but everything is precarious right now," he admitted. "Are you sure that you're comfortable with being introduced as the Lady of Day?"
"Yes." Elain gulped, although her voice was strong.
"You are aware that it means, to them, that you are my wife?" Lucien asked, eyeing her carefully.
Elain kept her gaze on the growing crowds below. "I'm aware of that, Lucien," she said quietly. "I have toyed with the risks, but I agreed, didn't I? I agreed to play this charade."
She could have sworn he flinched. "Alright, then," he said after a moment. "It's our time to shine, quite literally."
Elain chuckled, accepting his outstretched elbow and let him guide her onto the sun-soaked balcony that stretched over the crowds. The crowds roared, some with delight and others with anger.
Lucien, having slipped into the mask of pure, calculated power, raised a hand to silence them. "I know that some of you are confused," he said, his voice amplified with magic, magic Elain didn't know that he possessed. "So I will explain. I am Lucien, son of the Lady of the Autumn Court and Helion, former High Lord of Day."
Cries sparked at the use of former after Helion's name.
"As some of you are aware, former High Lord Tamlin has made himself infinitely more powerful and named himself High King of Prythian," Lucien's voice boomed, the crowd falling silent.
Elain shivered. The amount of power that Tamlin possessed now was terrifying. If this plan didn't work – they were screwed, as was the future of Pyrthian.
"I was given an order to kill my father and declare myself High Lord of Day. And so I did," Lucien roared, the power in his tone unlike that Elain had ever seen before from him. The fire of the Autumn Court in his blood. "I am now High Lord of Day. Those who oppose my rule will find themselves leading a life in my prisons." Lucien paused, eyeing the crowd dangerously.
They erupted into cheers of joy. Elain couldn't tell which ones were false from the ones that were real happiness.
"And this lovely lady," Lucien said, reaching for Elain, who moved closer to him, "is the new Lady of Day, Elain Archeron."
The crowd roared louder.
And Elain beamed back.
✿ ↬ - - - ↫ ✿
Azriel
Azriel walked down the stairs into Sylvie's dining room, the same room he and his High Lady had found themselves in last night.
Sylvie and Iona were sitting at the table and Feyre was standing but leaning across the table. They were all talking quietly, but ceased as soon as Azriel entered.
"What is it?" Azriel asked, his voice still scratchy, as it always was after he first woke up. "What's happened?"
Feyre grimaced, gesturing to the chair. "You may want to sit down for this, Azriel."
"I'm perfectly fine."
"Suit yourself." Feyre glanced at Sylvie and Iona before inhaling sharply. "Their friend came in this morning and brought the news from Prythian that they had gathered."
It was then that Azriel noticed Feyre's eyes were glassy and rimmed in red. Had she been crying? "What happened?" Azriel asked quickly, trying to hide the break in his voice.
Feyre gulped. "A couple of things. First, Lucien killed Helion, and he is now the High Lord of Day."
Azriel cursed. "Add that sly son of a bitch to the list of people that Tamlin's possessed." Although Azriel hadn't been friends with Helion, per se, he had been grateful for the High Lord's quips at the right moments, and a pang of hurt still flashed through him briefly.
"Az..." Feyre turned to him completely, hurt in her eyes. "Elain has been made Lady of Day."
The world spun. Azriel gripped onto the chair in front of him, his shadows flying to his side. "No..." He looked up at Feyre. "So she's joined Tamlin, then? Joined his cause?"
Feyre swallowed heavily. "It would appear that way."
For a second, Azriel only saw red. Was this because he chose Velaria? Was Elain truly that upset? Why was he–
Azriel still cared for Elain. Yes, it had always been Velaria, and yes he had loved Elain for the Velaria he had seen in her, but he had grown fond of her. He had enjoyed her company, her quiet kindness.
He still cared for her.
An emotion crossed Feyre's face, as if she knew what he was thinking about. Although he knew Feyre would never, Azriel checked to make sure his mental shields were up.
"Az, I wish I didn't have more, but there is," Feyre said hoarsely, her voice suddenly thick with tears.
Azriel's head snapped up at the hurt in her voice.
Without waiting for a response, Feyre continued, a tear slipping down her cheek, "Amren's dead. Killed by Tarquin and Varian."
Before anger consumed him, Azriel winnowed to the cliffside overlooking the city.
He let out a roar of pure fury and hurt, lunging for the nearest tree and ripping it straight out of the ground. He threw the tree with all of his strength, tears welling up in his eyes. The tree landed on a snowbank a hundred feet away.
Azriel pressed his back against the rough bark of another tree and slid down it, letting the tears slip down his cheeks. Amren...
Azriel closed his eyes, clenching and unclenching his fists as he tried to get a grip on the emotions swimming in his head.
Then, through the fog of emotions–
Azriel.
After another second: Azriel. Please respond.
Feyre sighed within his head. Azriel, I need to know if you've gone to kill someone. I know you're upset, but–
Azriel cut her off. Cliffside. Just above the city.
Waiting for his shadows to tell him Feyre was about to winnow in, Azriel wiped his tears away with the back of his hand and exhaled, the pain in his chest stabbing with every rise and fall.
His shadows alerted him a second before his High Lady winnowed in. Her eyes darted to the dirt peeking out from the snow to the tree crushed by a snowbank.
Feyre didn't say anything, but sat down next to him. "I didn't believe it at first," she said finally. "I almost consumed the room in pure darkness."
Azriel looked away, unable to keep the tears in his eyes at bay.
"It's okay to cry, Az," Feyre said quietly. "I don't mind."
He couldn't. Not yet. "I don't know what we'll do. Without her," he said instead.
"We'll manage." Feyre offered him a weak smile through her tears. "You all managed without Velaria. You will do it again."
Azriel inhaled. "We lost Elain, too."
Feyre grew silent, her eyes growing distant as she stared at the city below. "I don't know what made her join Tamlin," she said. "I always thought she was happy."
He didn't want to admit it to himself, but he knew. He knew why she had left. "She wasn't," he murmured, and Feyre's gaze snapped to him. "She felt underappreciated, like the life she led was sub-par and could be better in so many ways."
"She was comfortable, though," Feyre said. "We paid for everything, I spent time with her, I even got Nesta to–"
"That doesn't always equate happiness," Azriel said. "She knew you were living your best life, and that Nesta was doing the same, but she wasn't. You and Nesta found your mates. She found hers, but the male she wanted to be with was, for one, forbidden to be with her. And for two, he was in love with another female the entire time." Azriel's voice broke on the last line.
"It's not your fault, Az," Feyre said softly. "It's not your fault she left us."
"Isn't it, though?" Azriel blurted suddenly, a whole swarm of emotions breaking through the surface. "I rejected her, went for Velaria when she wasn't living a good life. She was unhappy, and yet I neglected that, neglected her for Velaria. I care for her, and I could have done so much better for her than what I was doing. She felt that someone else could do better for her, that Lucien could do better for her. I'm the reason she left, and the reason our enemies keep getting stronger when my mate is out risking her life to make bread out of crumbs of flour."
Feyre was silent after Azriel's outburst, and he realized he had never displayed such emotion in front of her, and had never been so brutally honest.
"You said care," Feyre said finally, her line of sight trained on the horizon. "You didn't say you cared for her, you said you care."
Azriel's heart dropped. "I should have done better," he croaked. "I should have done better for both of them. They deserve so much better than what I'm giving them."
"Az, I know I keep saying this, but you're in a truly impossible situation." Feyre inhaled and exhaled heavily before continuing, "You deserve happiness, and as much as I wish I could help you, it's up to you to decide which brings you a happier future. It sounds so incredibly cruel when I say it out loud, but..."
"Four centuries ago, I would have given anything to be with Velaria," Azriel said. "A year ago, I would have said the same for Elain. This shouldn't be a choice. Velaria is my mate."
"And Lucien is Elain's, but she certainly does not care."
"A mating bond is the most sacred thing to a fae," Azriel growled. "Elain clearly does not understand."
"I think she understands more than you know."
"She understands more than any of us know," Azriel said, his temper flaring. "But you and Rhys coddle her as if she is a small girl who just loves to garden."
"And you don't do the same?" Feyre asked angrily, eyeing Azriel.
"The difference between you and I is I was too caught up in my fucking dead mate to do anything for her," Azriel said. "And that's my mistake. But don't pretend to know what's best for Elain when you haven't had a genuine, honest conversation with her in the past couple of months."
"Elain and I talk all the time, Azriel," Feyre said quietly, her voice dripping with fury. "I know my sister quite well."
"Do you?" Azriel asked. "Because it doesn't seem like it when you and Rhys completely neglect her and her needs."
"That's not true in the slightest. If you just–"
"Rhysand was ready to give Nesta the world because she found a way to save you when you were dying," Azriel roared with a burst of anger. "He gave Elain nothing. Nothing. He sheltered her and let her passion rot away while he was busy taking care of you and Nesta and Cassian and everyone in the damned court except for her."
"Azriel, I advise you to stop talking."
"I don't fucking care," Azriel snapped, ignoring the lethal warning in her tone. "You claim to know Elain, but if you knew Elain, you would have watched the light dim from her eyes these past few months. You would have seen her stop gardening, stop reading the books she enjoyed so much. You would have seen the nights she paced around, didn't sleep, because she was worried for you."
"I was busy with my own shit, shadowsinger."
"WE ALL WERE, and no one cared for her," Azriel yelled. "WE ALL WERE BUSY, but you and Rhysand were wrapped up in all of your shit to notice the people drowning in your own court."
"That's not true. We saw–"
"No, you fucking didn't," Azriel said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "You sent Cassian to deal with Nesta because you didn't want to. You let Elain wither away and die. You let me wallow in my misery at the fact that I could only ever be with a female partially like my mate. You let Mor deal with the politics of the court, not caring that meant her having to deal with Eris and the affects on her mental health after dealing with shitty fae.
"You didn't see, because you only cared for yourself. You didn't see, were so convinced you were living in a fucking utopia while the fact that the three of you were going to die consumed your mate's every days. So don't sit here and pretend that you know your sister, or know any of us, because you fucking don't, Feyre."
"You seem to have a lot of opinions about me and my mate," Feyre said, her voice like ice, "while you and your own mate are wrapped up in such fucking bliss that she doesn't see that you're in love with someone else, or she's just fucking ignore it. Get the fuck over it, Azriel. I'm sick of trying to coddle you."
Azriel laughed sarcastically. "Oh, was this coddling? Because this certainly feels a lot more like neglect."
"When have Rhysand and I ever neglected you?"
"You started doing so the minute that babe entered our lives," Azriel said coldly. "You stopped caring about your friends, the people who helped you to the life you lead now, the minute your family became so much more important. We're your fucking family, Feyre, but neither you nor Rhysand seems to understand the difference between us and your son anymore."
Feyre stood up, brushing off her pants. "For a male who claims to love his mate so much, who pined after her for fucking centuries, you seem to have a lot to say in defense of her competition."
And with that, Feyre winnowed away.