Chapter 3:
Azriel
The soft breeze rustled the curtains in Azriel's room, carrying with it the scent of blooming jasmine that always seemed to linger in his mother's house. He stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the serene garden below. It had been a long time since he had visited his mother, the weight of his absence in her life hung heavy on his shoulders. She had worked wonders on the garden, like someone else he knew. His mind was a battlefield of emotions. He knew he had hurt Elain and didn't deserve her. He felt like a selfish bastard for even harbouring these feelings when he knew it might ruin their friendship. But he longed for her friendship, cherishing every moment they had spent together. Her presence brought warmth to his soul, and he couldn't imagine a life without her in it, even if it was just as a friend. And so, Azriel lived with his unrequited love, hoping that someday, he would find peace within himself. At last, he had experience in that department. He knew that loving someone from afar was a bittersweet endeavour, but he couldn't help it. His heart yearned for Elain, but he had never crossed a line, out of respect for her, for her mating bond, for Feyre, his high lady. But then his restraint had snapped that night she had come to him when her mate was only inches away. She had offered herself to him. As Rhysand's command echoed in Azriel's ears, as it had been for months now, a torrent of emotions surged within him. Hurt and humiliation swirled together, stabbing at his heart like a thousand sharp blades. How could Rhysand presume to know his feelings, to reduce his emotions to mere lust? The pain of unrequited feelings weighed heavily on Azriel's shoulders, knowing that he could never fully express the depth of his feelings for her. Yet, despite the sting of hurt, a part of him understood Rhysand's protective stance. He knew his High Lord was trying to shield their court from potential heartache or complications. Still, it only fueled the ember of resentment that smouldered within him. Azriel wrestled with his loyalty to his friend, torn between respecting Rhysand's wishes and the yearning that refused to be suppressed. The struggle between his devotion to his High Lord and the undeniable feelings he harboured for Elain left him torn and tormented, unsure of how to navigate the tangled web of emotions within him. For an entire week, Azriel remained secluded within the confines of Rosehall, rarely venturing out to spy, even when Cassian, had come to check on him. Azriel couldn't bear to burden him further and asked his mother to send him away. He refused to be the cause of any rift between his brothers, knowing all too well that putting Cassian in an impossible position was out of the question.
"Azriel.", a gentle voice called from the doorway.
He turned to meet his mother's warm gaze. She stepped into the room, her silver hair cascading down her back in a graceful wave. Time had left its marks upon her, but her eyes still held the same depth of wisdom and love that he remembered from when he was a little boy, only allowed to see her once a week.
"Mother," Azriel's voice cracked slightly as he embraced her, his strong arms enveloping her in a tender hug. It had been too long since he had felt the comfort of her presence, and he could feel the emotions welling up within him. When he had fled the night court days ago, he hadn't meant to come to her. He never wanted her to worry for him, she had done enough of that. But he didn't have anyone else, not anymore. So he flew and flew and without any thought found his way to his mother. After falling to his knees and crying for the first time in centuries, Azriel was not sure how to face his mother so he avoided her.
He pulled away from her but she held his face between her hands, studying his features with a mother's discerning eye. "I didn't want to bother you, but it's been a week since.", she lingered on the last word.
Azriel's throat tightened. "I know, Mother. I am sorry... I didn't mean to worry you.".
A soft smile touched her lips as she brushed her thumb over his cheekbone. "I always worry about you, Azriel. That's what mothers do, but I trust that you have your reasons."
He sighed, his shoulders sagging. "I do.".
"Now come, I have made us breakfast." giving the garden below a last look, Azriel followed his mother out of the room. As they entered the dining room, Azriel felt something sting in his heart. The centrepiece of the table was a basket filled to the brim with an assortment of viennoiseries – croissants, and other types of breads all baked to perfection, their flaky exteriors inviting him to take a bite, reminding him yet again of someone far away. As Azriel sat at the beautifully set table, he allowed himself to take a small bite of the croissant his mother had placed on the plate before him. The croissant practically melted in his mouth, he took a sip of the velvety coffee to wash down the sweetness of the croissant, not because he didn't like it but because it reminded him of her.
His mother, a woman of strength and resilience, watched him with concern in her eyes. She took a deep breath at the lingering pain she saw in her son's heart. "Azriel," she began softly, "I've noticed how you've been carrying the weight of the past on your shoulders. I can see it in the way you hold yourself, in the shadows that hide you."
Azriel looked up from his plate, his expression guarded. He knew exactly what his mother was referring to, but he had always been skilled at hiding his emotions, even from those closest to him.
"500 years is a long time to carry a burden, my son," she said, her voice filled with compassion. "You've given so much to others, to the court, and to Rhysand. It's time to allow yourself to be loved in return.".
He nodded, but the pain in his eyes remained, a silent acknowledgment of the internal struggle he was facing.
"You know your father and brothers were not kind men," his mother said, her voice tinged with sadness. "They were monsters, who used their power to control and hurt others. But you, you are not like them. You have a gentle soul, a heart capable of immense love.".
Azriel swallowed hard, his mother's words piercing through his armour of self-restraint.
"Rhysand may be High Lord, but he does not have the right to decide who is worthy of love," she said firmly. "And neither do you. Elain should be allowed to make her own choices.".
"I know," Azriel whispered, his voice barely audible.
"Then promise me this, Azriel," his mother implored.
"If you can't bring yourself to tell Elain about Rhysand's interference, at least tell her about your feelings. Let her decide whether she wants to be with you, regardless of her mate. Let her make that choice for herself. Respect her wishes above all else, especially since you and I know what it's like to have our choices taken away from us.".
The weight of his mother's words sank deep into Azriel's heart. He had spent most of his life feeling powerless, haunted by his past and the scars it left behind. The same scars she had called beautiful.
In the depths of his soul, Azriel carried a heavy burden of unworthiness, a belief that he was undeserving of love, especially from someone as pure and radiant as Elain. The scars of Mor's rejection still haunted him after five long centuries, leaving him emotionally scarred and distant from true affection. Yet, without even realizing it, Elain had stealthily breached his walls, capturing his heart in a way he thought was impossible. Her presence felt like a soft breeze on a barren landscape, awakening emotions he had long buried beneath icy rage. Azriel was bewildered by the magnetic pull she had on him, surpassing even the intensity of his love for Mor during all those years. Elain's bravery and vulnerability had stirred a tender side within him, one he never thought he possessed. How could he ever be worthy of someone like her? When she had put her heart on the line for him, he had faltered and hurt her. His heart ached with regret for the lack of apology, for the pain he caused her. He struggled to understand the nature of this enticing bond they shared. He found himself questioning the very cauldron that had shaped him, wondering if it held the answers to Elain's significance in his life. Azriel was ready to go to any lengths for her, even willing to wage war for her if circumstances allowed. But fate had other plans, and Rhysand's intervention halted his steps, leaving him yearning for a love he didn't feel worthy of, yet couldn't resist.
"You are worthy of love, Azriel," she whispered as if someone else would hear. "You deserve happiness.".
Azriel took a deep breath, the weight of his secrets pressing down on him. He recounted the events that had transpired – the bond, the tangled history, Rhysand's command. His mother listened in silence, her expression thoughtful as she absorbed every word.
"Rhysand pulling rank was a mistake," she said, her gaze unwavering. "But you also made a mistake in not telling Elain. She deserves the chance to make her own choices, even if it means facing the possibility of rejection.".
Azriel felt his heart clench at the thought of Elain rejecting his feelings, but maybe she would agree to be his friend again. He needed to apologize to her, to make things right. At least that much he could do without unleashing Rhysand's wrath. So he got up and kissed his mom on the forehead before winnowing away.
Elain
The sun gently bathed the garden in a warm glow, Elain sat there, a fragile figure amidst the blossoms, sipping her tea. Yet, her calm was but a facade, for her mind, was a storm of worry and heartache, consumed by thoughts of Azriel. His abrupt departure from the Nesta mating ceremony, with bloodied hands no less, had left her reeling in concern. Days had passed, and still, not a word from him.
Cassian's revelation that Azriel refused to see him only deepened her worry. She was hurt by how he had handled things, how he seemed to distance himself from her after she had stupidly fallen for him. Despite having a mate of her own, she couldn't help but trust him with her heart, foolishly hoping for him to return her feelings.
Elain blamed herself too, for misinterpreting his friendship. She longed to mend their bond, even as her heart shattered. Losing his friendship meant losing another connection in a world where she felt alone. She had tried to fix things a few days after solstice and poured her heart into letters, but no reply came and the hope of rekindling their friendship faded with each unanswered letter, forcing her to mirror his detachment. The pain was overwhelming, but she kept it hidden, crying herself to sleep night after night. Lucien, her mate, whom she had asked to stay in Velaris remained unaware of the turmoil within her, as her thoughts were consumed by the shadow singer.
Elain was torn between her desire to fix things and her need to protect her own heart. Elain sat there, her mind swirling with thoughts and emotions. The news of Azriel visiting his mother made her heart ache with both happiness for him and a touch of jealousy. She admired their bond and the way he spoke so fondly of his mother's healing through gardening. It made her wonder if that connection was what drew him to her.
Elain's heart was in turmoil as she found herself torn between her feelings for Azriel and her sense of responsibility toward her family and the Fae court. She had asked Lucien to come to Nesta's ceremony, hoping that spending time with him would help her come to a decision, and provide her with the clarity she desperately needed. But when Azriel unexpectedly showed up after months of being distant, all those feelings she had buried beneath came back rushing.
She had tried, twice, to bridge the gap between her and Azriel, but each time he had retreated into the shadows, leaving her feeling more uncertain than ever. She couldn't deny the unspoken connection they shared, the moments of stolen glances and fleeting touches that seemed to linger in the air.
Yet, as much as she longed for something more with Azriel, Elain couldn't ignore the sense of duty that tugged at her heartstrings. Her sister, Feyre, and her nephew, the young heir to the Night Court, deserved stability after so much war. Elain felt obligated to see this through with Lucien, who had shown her kindness and understanding during the chaos.
Deep down, she knew Azriel harboured feelings for her, but she feared it might never be enough to overcome the barriers that stood between them. He carried a burden too heavy, too painful, and she wondered if he could truly open his heart to her, or if he was merely drawn to the fragments of her.
Elain understood the delicate dance of politics within the fae courts, and rejecting the bond with Lucien would undoubtedly send ripples through the Night Court. Her heart ached at the thought of causing upheaval, she owed Feyre that much. Elain reluctantly rose from her chair and made her way inside the townhouse, the weight of obligation pulling at her steps. Sitting at her writing desk, she hesitated before putting pen to paper. Deep down, Elain knew this was not the life she envisioned, but she felt bound by duty and the expectations of others.
Dear Lucien,
I hope you have been well. I would like to apologize for not sending word sooner. Please accept my invitation to join me for lunch tomorrow to discuss... well, the bond.
Elain
As she sealed the letter, she couldn't help but wonder if this path would lead to her happiness or if it would only perpetuate the emptiness she felt inside. Nuala's gentle knock interrupted her thoughts, and she quickly wiped away the tears that had gathered in her eyes before inviting her in.
"Nuala," Elain greeted with a forced smile, trying her best to hide her despair.
Nuala entered the room, "The high lady sent word for you to join them for dinner tonight".
"Very well, will you accompany me?", Elain inquired.
"I believe she said the high lord will come to get you unless you would like me to stay, or come back later?" her friend asked.
"No, I will wait for Rhysand. Would you please get this to Lucien?" Elain quickly handed Nuala and turned away to hide her discomfort.
"I will make sure he gets it.". Her friend replied before disappearing.
Elain stood before the mirror, her delicate fingers gently taming the loose waves that cascaded over her shoulders. She wore a light blue dress that accentuated her figure and showed just a hint of skin. It was a dress that spoke of grace and allure, yet, deep down, Elain despised that her beauty was the only thing people seemed to notice. She longed to be seen for her mind, her spirit, and her heart.
"You wear an awful lot of blue," a voice behind her jolted her out of her reverie, not a voice, his voice.
"Azriel," she whispered as if he would disappear if she spoke it aloud.
"I didn't mean to startle you.".
Elain's heart pounded in her chest, she was confused and shocked, finding it hard to believe he was there. Thoughts raced through her mind, wondering what could have brought him to her doorstep all these months later. He just stood there as she stared and stared. Azriel finally stepped towards her, Elain could sense the tension in the air. She wanted to ask him a million questions, but she was in a state of shock, unable to speak. She could hear her heart beat louder with each step that brought him closer. Thump. Thump. Azriel hesitated for a moment as if trying to decide something.
"Why are you here?" Elain finally managed to ask, her voice trembling.
"I wanted to apologize," eyes full of anguish, "For the way I've handled things, I..." he stopped as if to listen to something. "It's Rhysand," he said before taking one last glance at Elain, then vanishing into thin air.
Elain stood there unmoving and confused. Before she could fully process what had just happened, she heard another voice call out to her. Turning around, she found Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, standing there with a gentle smile on his face.
"Hello, El," he greeted her, his violet eyes warm and reassuring, "ready to go?".
