Work Text:
The fates would never stop laughing at Azriel. Never.
He knew now that he truly didn’t deserve anything good or pure in his life at all, and perhaps that was his own fault. He had emerged from his father’s dungeon an abomination. He had been born an abomination.
Azriel had always allowed himself to want throughout his life, knowing that he would never receive his heart’s desires, but this was the first time he had allowed himself to need.
And he would never be allowed to have her. Funny, how even though he had seen her first, had suspected the unspeakable from the moment he laid eyes on her in her father’s mansion, another had claimed her first.
It was his own damn fault too. If he hadn’t been so distracted that night in Hybern, he could have kept track of the king’s whereabouts better. Maybe he wouldn’t have been incapacitated, and it could have been him pulling Elain out of the Cauldron and comforting her.
The rules were simple it seemed though. The first to stake the claim received sole possession of the bond, and the other was punted to the side, to watch helplessly from the sidelines without a hope in the world.
But Elain had allowed him to hope. She had seemed to feel the same draw as he had, flocking to him and causing his shadows to scatter whenever she was near. Still, even without the possibility of accepting the mating bond, he couldn’t stay away from her. He couldn’t bear to let anything happen to her.
It was why he had lost his mind when she was taken by the Cauldron, why he was willing to risk everything in order to get her back. He could only pine after her from afar, but he could take care of her without the others catching on. He would have gone even without Feyre, but he appreciated how his High Lady helped to mask his intentions.
That damned kiss on the cheek had threatened to bring him to his knees, and only the next day he had found himself handing over Truth-Teller—a piece of his own soul—to her for protection in the battle. He would not have been upset if she had decided to keep the blade, but he hadn’t expected her to. It just reassured him to know that he was protecting her in the best way he could.
But then Lucien had come back, and he had to give them their space. Though she claimed not to have feelings for the other male, it gutted him to be in the same room as them, to be able to scent that connection when only shreds of his own remained, buried beneath another.
He had occupied himself elsewhere, making infrequent visits to the townhouse, hoping that he wasn’t imagining the way Elain looked at him whenever their eyes caught. Using all his self control not to walk up to her in her garden and tuck the strands which had slipped out of her braid behind her ear. They couldn’t afford that sort of similarity. It would break him when she inevitably gave into the other bond. All he could do was protect his heart.
Solstice had changed everything though. She had frozen when he walked into the room for dinner a few nights before, and nobody had questioned it when he had gently taken the potatoes out of her hands and placed them on the table. It was too close to her serving him. While it might have meant nothing to the tatters of the bond, it would mean everything to him, and nobody would even be the wiser.
So he intentionally sidestepped the scenario and spent the rest of the evening restless. It was only when she seated herself next to him on the couch and began to lull her drunken head on his shoulders that he began to relax. He had to relax. Or else he would combust, but she clearly felt comfortable around him. And maybe he could stick around and be the recipient of this comfort, as long as her other mate was making himself scarce.
Her gift to him on the day of brought him the most joy he had felt in a long, long time. Even he could not hold back his laughter as he thanked her for it. For seeing him like nobody had in ages. It bolstered his spirits, causing him to stay up late into the evening with her, listening raptly as she fawned over her new Solstice gifts she was going to use in her garden.
Just the two of them, in the middle of the night, seated so close together on that couch. He had placed an errant hand on her knee, practically shaking with nerves and been pleasantly surprised when she had seemed unbothered by it.
It was just the beginning. Over the next year, they danced around each other. Longing gazes from across the room. The graze of their fingertips when passing near each other. Each gesture done in secret, when they were sure the others weren’t watching too closely. As if it were some unspoken agreement between them to keep whatever was blooming between them in the shadows.
He cared about her, and he could tell she felt the same magnetic pull to him. Some small, buried piece of him became glad he had never had the chance to tell her about the bond, because surely she would despise him as much as she despised Lucien.
At least this way, he got bits and pieces of her affection, without having to survive the drought which was sure to come whenever she officially mated with the other male.
But what if there was a way to subvert fate? What if Elain’s feelings could change her own destiny and cement the bond with the one she loved … If she could ever grow to love him. It still boggled his mind that he had been chosen as her equal. Chosen and then shunted aside. But that was through no fault of her own.
That was what allowed that kernel of hope to take root in his chest, though he never let it blossom. He just held it close to his heart on those sleepless nights, made even worse as his mind chased itself in circles about her and any future they might have. As his heart bled to think that he might lose her.
In those moments, only catching a glimpse of her gift could pull him back from the ledge. It’s why he kept it so visibly displayed on his nightstand. Why he didn’t dare to use it. Because in those darkest hours, it was all he had to remind himself that there was something burning low and slow between them. It hadn’t been snuffed out yet.
And so he began planning, visiting shops in the rainbow, until he found exactly what he was looking for. It was foolish, really. Jewelry was as good of a declaration of his feelings as anything—practically unheard of if it wasn’t being gifted to a wife or mate. But she was his mate.
She deserved this thing of secret, lovely beauty. She deserved to know how he felt about her, even if he couldn’t put it in so many words without falling apart.
But now even that was ruined. His brother, of all people, had annihilated any chances he had of Elain ever reciprocating his feelings. Not when he had left her standing there. Not when he had told her she was a mistake, when she was anything but. She was his world, and he was a fool for following the orders of his High Lord.
He could still feel the heat of her body flush against his, still hear the thudding of her heart as she leaned in to kiss him.
She had been playing on repeat in his mind for days, as he hid, as he stayed away just like the good little soldier he had been ordered to be.
He had needed to get rid of the necklace, and Gwyn was a friend. He felt ashamed of that now that he didn’t even see her wearing it.
Cauldron, she had probably been able to scent Elain on it and known what it was that she had been given. A second-hand piece of jewelry gifted in desperation and loneliness.
But he couldn’t think of that anymore. Not with this threat looming over his head and the orders to stay away from his mate. He had hoped that when he posed the question, Rhys would at least entertain it, and would maybe realize that there was more beneath the surface. But his best friend and brother had done the one thing which crippled Azriel the most.
He had pulled rank, insisting that Azriel was not allowed to pursue Elain—his mate—for fear of an impending war. And he knew that Azriel would obey, that Azriel always obeyed.
Until now.
Until it became a matter of losing his fated partner—the female he was beginning to love—to another.
He would bide his time, would lure Rhys into a false sense of security, but when the moment struck, he would stand idle no longer. He would not go down without a fight, damn the consequences.
He was getting her back.