A Court of Golden Shadow || Elain x Azriel

Chapter 1 - A Winged Babe

Elain smiled down at the babe in her arms, inhaling the late Spring breeze drifting through the gardens fresh from a journey across the Sidra and the sea beyond. The lilacs bristled quietly, dancing in the shifting winds and shining up at her and Nyx, curled up on a lounger beneath a weeping willow. The salty tang of the sea had been delivered along with the breeze, and Elain closed her eyes to savor the scent. Leaning back into the warm cushion behind her, she felt the babe's steady heartbeat against her palm, his wings bristling slightly.

Warmth. Comfort. Peace.

It was home.

Elain could admit that Velaris had become her home: the sea breeze a gentle reminder of her father every time it tickled her fae senses.

Her grief for him had begun to scar, transforming from raw painful visions and nightmares of his death, shape-shifting into comforting memories of their time together in the human lands: Elain, leading him around their estate in those last days, showing him her gardens and enjoying his company. The Prince of Merchants he was. A Prince of the Sea. The King of her family.

And she missed him.

These were the moments, in her gardens holding Nyx, when she realized that she had begun to revel in her new life. Because even if father didn't know it, he had a grandchild. A priceless piece of the Prince of Merchants was sleeping safely in her arms. A beautiful baby– babe, she reminded herself, winged and all.

Nyx stirred in her arms, readjusting to lay his head on her chest, wings flaring slightly. She gently laid her palm on the soft membranes, smiling to herself as she caressed his wings. Elain had always mused that Illyrian wings were as soft as flower petals but strong as tree roots. Following a vein down the side of his wing, she mused to herself that though the whelp's wings were small, they would one day be larger than her entire body.

An insignificantly tiny, yet familiar ache began to creep up from her stomach, traveling up her throat, and into her nostrils. Elain closed her eyes, breathing deeply of the sea, and forced the emotion back down.

Because even though these moments were perfect, she could never quite dismiss the realization that she would never have a winged whelp of her own to hold one day.

And the thought crushed her.

ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Azriel landed softly on the corner of the river mansion.

He did not care for comparisons to gargoyles, but also could not argue with the fact that perching upon the corner of a stately manor whilst being winged and brooding certainly lent itself to the gargoyle aesthetic.

He typically preferred to winnow directly into Rhys' study for their regular meetings, but today was Tuesday. Tuesday afternoon to be exact– the time when Feyre had her art class, teaching color theory at her studio on The Rainbow. Which meant Nyx would be in the garden. And when Nyx was in the garden... Azriel allowed himself to indulge in just a few moments of selfish unadulterated disobedience.

Or as Rhys would define it: panting.

Azriel and Elain were never alone these days... never really had been in the past either, even before Solstice. But what little contact they had previously maintained had diminished significantly since the almost-kiss. The occasional brush of a hand, warm eye contact, and shy smiles had receded to almost nothing.

He wouldn't say that she had cut herself off from him: not the way Mor did, keeping a barrier between them, playing coy, holding him at arm's length as she danced around his heart for centuries.