Work Text:
Elain awoke to snow falling outside the frosted window pane. The sky had gone from deep mauve to paper-white as dawn broke, snowflakes blanketing the lawn outside and gathering atop the canopy that hung over Elain's garden, keeping her winter plants dry and safe from the extra weight of snow. She stood at the window, wrapped in a blanket and delicately tracing a fingernail against the fogged glass, quietly humming to herself.
Serene moments such as this made her pause, still unable to fully take in that this townhouse was hers . After being Made, she didn't give her future much thought beyond getting through another day, using the little energy she had to survive. Having anything more had seemed impossible at the time, a distant childhood fantasy she needed to let go of. Even when things had gotten better, when she'd given life to the garden below and met the wonderful people of Velaris, her own desires were cast aside in favor of what was expected of her.
The bond with Lucien had always felt muffled, a stirring in her chest that flared up when he visited, an uncomfortable sensation that, at times, felt suffocating. She had not chosen this male as her mate, and she did not want him as her mate; Greysen was still an open wound that hadn't quite healed, her immortal life a terrifying reality she was unprepared for. Lucien was polite, and Feyre was fond of him, and she had read stories as a child where arranged marriages ended in true love. Why couldn't it happen with her and Lucien?
There was always something that felt slightly off when she tried to imagine a life as a mated female, forever by the side of the male she was bound to. They could grow to care for one another, but there was also the possibility of their relationship leaving both of them miserable and hardened for eternity. Her skin prickled at the thought of leaving her family for the Autumn Court, bearing children, becoming subservient and shallow and soulless.
Just as her mother had told her she would.
Her nail traced a jagged line on the window, her teeth clenching. Her mother had always said Elain's beauty was her only asset, sighing heavily when Elain had tried to say she didn't care. "I want a nice house with a big garden and someone who loves me," she had said at one time, perhaps seven or eight years old.
"Elain, my darling, you will not waste your beauty on a peasant's life," her mother replied, her voice cold.
That had stuck with Elain long after her mother had died, making her feel guilty at times for enjoying such simple things as baking and gardening. She had believed Greysen had been the only man who would ever love her, and grown to fear Lucien would be the only male to ever want her. What good was she if she wasn't bold like her sisters?
There was a day, early on in her depression, when she'd climbed a tree near the townhouse and sat in the crook of a branch, wondering if anyone would look for her, wondering if anyone would care if she was gone. Her thoughts had been startled by the sound of beating wings, and then one of the winged males Feyre knew was resting a few branches above her. She couldn't remember his name at the time, her mind clouded with exhaustion, but she was thankful that all he did was keep to himself. She felt calm with someone else there, sharing the silence she desperately needed.
A few days later, he was there again, in the same spot, as she read a new book on gardening. And again, several times after, never speaking, never pressuring her to talk. His name didn’t stick with her until they started spending time in the townhouse garden, that same comforting silence wrapped around them. She’d seen it written at the top of one of his reports, the letters slanted and sharp: AZRIEL.
Even then, part of her sensed that this was who understood her in a way no one else could. This beautiful male with shadows and a face of steel, who knew she was a seer when she felt herself losing her mind, who had come to save her from Hybern’s camp, who had sat with her in the early morning hours on her first Solstice to listen to her plans for the garden - if she had a choice at all, she’d stay with him. She’d always choose him.
And here she was, in her own home, with the freedom to live the life she wanted, with the male she wanted. So many things had been decided for her in the past, and now…now it was up to her what she did with her life. Her own happiness was, finally, what mattered the most.
She sensed Azriel behind her before she felt his arms wrap around her middle, lips leaving a trail of fire along her bare shoulder. “You’re up early.”
She leaned against him, closing her eyes. “Couldn’t sleep. Someone’s wings were in my face again.”
She felt him smile against her freckled skin. "Those snowflakes are lovely. Taking after Feyre?"
"Maybe." She sucked in a breath; he was lingering along the curve of her neck, covering every inch of skin with molten heat.
"You know those will leave a mark when the frost thaws, right?"
Her eyes flew open, and she craned her neck to look at him. "You just said they were lovely.”
“Lovely marks that will be on the glass and smudge it.”
She gently elbowed him in the stomach. “I’m so sorry for ruining our windows.”
“Are you though?” he asked, resting his chin in the crook of her neck.
“Not really.” An idea came to mind suddenly, her heart picking up speed. “But how about I make it up to you?”
“Buying new window panes?” he joked.
She rolled her eyes and took a step away from him, turning around so they were facing each other. “I think you’ll like my suggestion better.”
He raised a dark eyebrow, but he froze as she slowly dropped the blanket to the floor, nothing else covering her. Elain bit her lip as his gaze roamed over her bare skin, heat beginning to pool between her legs.
“What exactly are you suggesting?” he asked, his voice like gravel.
She swallowed hard. “I think you already know.”
He pulled her flush against him, kissing her with a quiet desperation as his hands found her waist, one sliding lower until his fingers teased over her. “Do I?”
She wanted to tell him he absolutely did, but her focus was on his fingers, on how she wanted him to replace them with his lips and tongue. They stumbled back to the bed, tangled between the sheets in seconds, immediately losing themselves in shared breaths and burning skin.
A while later, they lay snuggled under the discarded blanket, their legs entwined, Azriel running a finger over her clavicle. His wings had cocooned them at some point, the dim light from outside filtering through the membrane, casting them in a muted glow. He was starting to doze off, trying his hardest to stay awake with her.
Elain loved intimacy with Azriel, but there were times she enjoyed the gentle moments afterward even more. There was something beautiful about being this close, tucked away safely from the rest of the world, content to say little as they calmed their breathing. It was the most content Elain ever saw Azriel, completely relaxed against her and all hard edges gone from his face.
She felt his hands tug her closer, their foreheads pressed together as he finally let himself drift off to sleep. Elain watched him for a while, her touch feather light as she skimmed the pad of her finger over his brows, his eyelids, his nose, his lips. She sat up slightly to kiss his forehead and whispered, “I love you” before settling into his arms and falling asleep.
After he was sure she wouldn’t wake up, Azriel opened his eyes, tears brimming. He brushed her golden-brown hair back from her face. His chest ached at what she’d said, words he never dreamed he’d be worthy of. Words he could never hope to imagine would come from her.
“I love you, Elain,” he said quietly. The words felt foreign, different, beautiful. They felt right .
And being here with her, he had realized long ago, felt like home. She felt like home.