They'd been waiting for two hours, and Elena's back had begun to cramp from sitting up straight, and she'd resorted to counting the amount of spots on the long, old, table they were all sitting at. Rhysand at the head, Cassian to his right, Elena to his left, and Azriel standing in the shadows behind him. Rhysand had told her the man wasn't like Tarquin or Kallias, and he's apparently got a flair for the dramatics. But gods, the only thing dramatic about this is the pain lashing up her spine. She was tempted to stick her tongue out at Rhysand just to see how he reacted.
Just as her tongue begins to poke it's way out of her mouth, the doors slam open and reveal Beron, surrounded by waist-high flames, one's she could feel the heat of on her skin. She slowly turns her head to look at the man, and sees there's a crown of orange flames atop his head, one that reminds her of intricate lace. Fire flickers in his eyes with the confidence of a Fae who has seen eons of pain and lived through it. His face a composed mask of cold fury and power—
Elena bursts out laughing.
She simply props her boots up onto the table and leans back, interlocking her fingers behind her head, drawling, "Are you done?"
Beron simply looks at her, words failing him and he tries to regain his composure, and she could feel the weight of Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel's eyes on her, but she simply stares right at Beron. Before the room went black, every flame gone, the room plunged into unfathomable darkness. Save for the crown on Elena's head. And if Beron's crown was like lace, Elena's crown was like spidersilk, infinitely more ornate and thousands of times more beautiful.
And then the room erupts into a display of light. Purple, green, blue, orange, red, all swirling around Elena and funnelling into a shape of a mighty dragon on the ceiling, the wings stretching over the hall. She kept the heat under control, but everyone could feel the raw power that she excluded. And then the flames became a mass of interwoven colours, a display of the complete control she had over this utter chaos.
Elena allowed them to admire the flames for a few seconds, before breathing in, all the flames rushing into her, soaking into her body, and sinking underneath her skin. Opening her eyes to make contact with Beron's, letting all the golden flames spark in them.
That's when they all realized that he might have some control over the flame, but this Princess... she was the flame.
And then she returned the pitiful waist-high flames to the High Lord of the Autumn Court, who was so awe-struck the smell of burning fabric stained the air for a few seconds.
"I think I've seen what all the Autumn Court has to offer," she says to Rhysand, a dazzling smile on her face, almost as bright as those flames that filled the room only moments ago. Rhysand winking at her before turning to Beron, "It seems both you and me have gotten what we wanted. We'll be returning to the Night Court, I wish I could say it was lovely to see you, but I've decided to only lie when it benefits me," he stands up and straightens his suit jacket, Cassian and Elena rising with him, Azriel stalking out of the shadows with his eyes on Elena, although they quickly flicker back to Rhysand, then Beron. Fighting the urge to stretch, she followed Rhysand out, Cassian at his side and Azriel at hers. Passing Beron and giving him a wink before blowing a kiss as the doors were closed behind them.
When they walked out of the gates, Elena first stretched as far as she could, arching her back like a cat, and then she began laughing. "Did you see his face? God that was brilliant," she says, her hands already moving to braid and tie her hair down her back. She noticed Cassian and Rhysand laughing too, and even Azriel's lips were tilted upwards, as if he just couldn't help himself. The three males' wings flare wide as Azriel stalks towards her, holding out a hand. "Your chariot awaits," he says, her hand finding his before he suddenly stops moving. Just like that. Frozen.
And then Elena realizes, without any small amount of panic, that she couldn't move too. No matter how bad she tried, her limbs refused to obey, although her eyes swivelled around so quickly that it wouldn't be a surprise if they did a 360 right in their sockets. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think— hazel eyes on hers. Calm, deep, hazel eyes that begged her to calm down, to actually look, to smell, to listen.
So she did. She heard a set of footsteps, graceful and sure. She smelt the pine trees of the woods around her, and the sweet smell of flowers. And then she heard slow clapping, as a rather beautiful man strolled into her view, his silver hair glinting in the sunlight, sharp canines looking ready to draw blood. Tanned, scarred hands connected to tanned, scarred forearms. Everything about him lean and unruffled, including the dark suit he wore. He tsks as he flicks a piece of invisible lint from his shoulder, moving to stand in front of Rhysand, who seemed to be straining against whatever was holding them in place. "The great and mighty High Lord of the Night Court, at my mercy. How fitting. How easy. How disappointing," he drawled, his voice lilting and deep and somewhat familiar in the gruffness of which he said some sounds. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sounds of skin hitting skin, and she realised he was standing right in front of Azriel, and he'd just slapped him, the red mark already forming.
Anger boiled inside her, red and hot and ugly and she tried to step forward, to do anything, but all she managed was to twitch her finger. Rubbing it against the skin of Azriel's hand gently, realizing she was the only one out of the four who could move at all. Her finger continues moving as the other man moves closer to her, one of his hands reaching forward to wrap a strand of her hair around his finger, breathing deep, his eyes lighting up with something she couldn't quite place.
"I've been alive over two hundred years, and I have yet to meet someone like you, little girl," he says, his face close to hers, his green eyes staring into hers. And then he took a step face, an emotion passing over his face before it's wiped away, carefully replaced with a calm mask. "Enough of this. I'm getting rather tired,' he says, before simply raising a hand and clicking his fingers.
Two large, winged creatures land in front of them, their skin such a dark blue it almost looked black, long, lightly muscled limbs and massive, flesh-shredding claws at the end of their five fingered hands. Each one grabbing a hold under Rhysand's shoulder, the strange man stepping forward to cut a thin slice on his cheek, before using the blood to draw a strange mark on his Rhysand's forehead. And then he stepped back and tipped an invisible hat, turning to walk into the woods before turning around and saying, "Oh, by the way, I'm Alec. Trust you'll be seeing a lot more of me, very soon."
And then he walks into the forest, and simply disappears.
Elena drags her eyes to Rhysand, to the panic in his eyes he's trying so desperately to hide, and she feels her toes curl. Then her fist clench at her sides, and by the time the winged creature begin to flap their wings and carry Rhysand away, away from his court, away from his mate, away from his family, Elena realizes what she has to do.
She may not be able to move, but she can do something else. Clenching her teeth and finally, finally, letting out the beast she'd pushed down for years, letting it come out and stretch it's wings, just for a little while. She felt a flash of pain before her hands elongated into claws, and her body grew and grew and grew, and her skin hardened into scales, and she roared.
It was enough to make the trees shake, because where a girl once stood, now stood a dragon, her jaw snapping and wings attempting to spread out in the limited space.
The thing that had once kept her in place seemed to have had stopped working altogether, and she swipes her long tail over the grounds around them, successfully wiping out any marks that would be hidden by the leaves, before launching herself into the sky, barely registering the fact that Azriel and Cassian had dropped to the floor, her mind on the High Lord's shrinking form in the distance.
Harnessing the wind just like her dad had taught her, using it to propel her faster and faster, feeling the wind speak to her, feeling it bend to her will, whispering faster faster faster. And she obliged.
All that it took was a snap of her jaw before both of the creatures were tumbling through the sky, now headless, and Rhysand's stiff body was clutched in her claws, her wings carrying her back to the small clearing where Cassian and Azriel now stood leaning against each other, eyes going wide when Elena's form blocked out the sun. Her scales gleaming, and there was black blood on her snout, but she places Rhysand down with a gentleness not normal for a dragon, and used her tongue to lick the blood off Rhysand's forehead, the taste of it drowned out by the taste of the other blood in her mouth.
And then she suddenly feels like she can't breathe, like the trees were suddenly shouting instead of whispering, and her breaths begin to come out in small puffs through her nose and her tail hits a tree as she tries to turn around and her wings hit the branches as she tries to stretch them out and she can't breathe.
A familiar face takes a step towards her, his scarred palm facing up as he places it on her snout gently, and she stops moving. Just like that. Her eyes snapping to his, her breaths coming out more evenly as he begins to rub up and down gently, and she moves into his hand, flopping down onto her stomach, as if she were already tired of moving. Closing her eyes until she heard a whisper, "Elena. We need you. Don't rest just yet. Our wings aren't working, and we need to get out of here. Get us back to Velaris and I promise, you can rest for as long as you want."
She gives Azriel a look that said, I don't believe you.
When have I ever lied to you? He replies with a raised eyebrow, and she slowly raises to her feet again.
Turning around so her back is to the three males, and lowering her back legs so they could climb on, Rhysand still mostly limp between them. Azriel, then Rhysand, then Cassian, the two making sure Rhys didn't fall off while she flew. Rhysand gives her a gentle pat, all he could manage at the moment, and she simply shakes her body slightly as if to say Hold on.
They find places to hold onto within her scales, and she launches herself into the sky, the three warriors clinging onto her as she lets out a roar, and sets off to Velaris.
***
It had taken Elena two hours to fly back to Velaris, not stopping for anything. Rhysand had regained movement by the time they'd landed, and had sent word to Feyre and the rest about their arrival, and to not be surprised when a golden dragon lands on the roof.
Which was why Feyre, Mor, Amren, Nesta and Noah were waiting for them, all taking a step back when she appeared, all besides Noah, who stepped forward towards her, and god if she were in her Fae form she'd be sobbing. Lowering herself down to the rooftop slowly, careful not to squish anything, and tilting her body to the side to make it easier for them to climb down.
And then there was a flash of light and sharp pain, and she was Elena again, but naked as she was the day she was born, her dress burnt in her reckless shifting in the forest. Noah immediately rushed forward as she covered herself, her body swaying slightly, but it was Mor who placed a blanket around her shoulders, nodding at the other girl before returning to her High Lord a few steps away.
Her eyes flicker to the other males on the rooftop, and then back to Noah, who looks at her for a second as if making sure she's in one piece, and then wrapping his arms around her tightly, whispering in her ear, "Don't ever do that again."
"Do what?"
"Go where I can't follow."
Elena merely smiles at him, before taking a step back and vomiting all over the ground between them, black substance splattering onto the floor along with bits of gore from the creatures, and it just keeps coming. And she remembered how much vomiting sucked. Reaching a hand out for anyone to take, Noah too busy holding back her hair, and she felt Azriel's familiar fingers close over hers, and it was far more comforting than she'd care to admit. The other's left the roof to give her some privacy, and after about ten minutes she began to dry retch, nothing left in her stomach, trying to hurl up anything. Then her dry retching turns to coughing, and her body begins to shake, and before she knows it, she's fallen right over and is looking up at Azriel's face, the warmth of his arms seeping through the blanket. She opens her mouth to speak, and nothing comes out, so she tries again.
"I think it's safe to say that I have the biggest wingspan."
And then she passes out.
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word count: 2355
hello! thanks again for reading i really appreciate it! comment your theories to what you think alec's deal is, or what you think about this chapter in general, i love it when people comment fr. anyways, please vote, it means a lot. have a lovely day!
- ev