A COURT OF DARK SHADOWS AND LIQUID GOLD (AZRIEL X OC)

1.9: Ellaria - Be Our Guest

The first thing Ellaria saw as she approached the first step of the stairs was a pair of beautiful brown eyes looking at her anxiously.

The next thing that attracted her was the immaculate dress that Feyre Archeron wore - as beautiful as a shower of stars, matching her crown and her earrings. All decorated with her husband's arm firmly around her waist.

The woman seems familiarly unknown. The first thing that occurred to her was that surely the resemblance to Nesta was what caused it. The sisters' eyes were almost the same, but Feyre had a bluer tone to them, while Nesta's were grayer. But that statement did not satisfy her mind, so Ellaria continued analyzing the woman without being able to pinpoint exactly what it was that seemed familiar to her.

An invisible wave of power, cold, and dark as night, washed over the room as her eyes swept over the High Lady. Azriel's hand landed on Ellaria's lower back, inviting her to move down the stairs, and she took a step towards the first step-down, making eye contact with Rhysand.

Ellaria gave him a smile, which only made it seem like the power wanted to slam into her own divine power, more agreeably, desperate for a reaction. He smiled back, as if the power game he was losing wasn't happening, and he was nothing more than a man hosting a surprise visitor.

How cute, she thought, placing her hand on the railing to gracefully descend the stairs.

Azriel's hand was still attached to her back when they reached the bottom of the stairs. When her attention returned to Elain, who was standing closest to the bottom of the stairs, Azriel made a quick movement to get between them. Ellaria glanced at him sideways and turned her attention back to Feyre.

"It seems your court knows how to make a girl feel welcome, High Lady," she purred as she looked at the young woman, admiring the freckles that adorned her nose. She wrinkled her own nose, the familiarity of all of her hitting her, again. Nesta didn't have freckles. Of that she was sure. It couldn't be that.

"Well, we are famous for our parties." Feyre smiled welcoming at her, revealing a hint of truth in her words.

"What a coincidence!" Ellaria put her hand on her chest "I'm famous for crash in them"

A new power hovered over her, but this one was not dark. The power was colors and life. It was Feyre's power. And it reminded Ellaria of the multi-fruit smoothies-the kind that were sold at the stalls in Troy. But it was not the quantity and power of it that caught her attention; Ellaria had not expected less from her or her husband, but rather the way in which it faced her own power in a different way from Rhysand's.

The thing about changing worlds was that: any magic you have when you get there is not part of the magic system of the place. Magic at a universal level is like a set of roots that breathe and live, connected to all breathing beings in each universe, all in a singular and unique way. God magic is superior magic in itself in their home world, but in a universe outside their own system, it is the Achilles' heel of any world's magic system. One that the rest of the powers would feel the need to challenge to return to the natural way of things.

Rhysand's power had reacted as expected. Desperate to break the barrier that held Ellaria's divine magic, all in an attempt to measure himself over or against her, responding to his natural instincts. But Feyre's...

Feyre Archeron's magic did not clash with hers; she was not desperate to test herself against her golden, bloody power. If not, once it met the wall, Feyre power bounced on Ellaria's walls easily. A friendly rejection. Something strange-not impossible- but certainly strange.

Ellaria tilted her head and looked curiously at the young woman, making a murmur of approval. "I think we should introduce ourselves properly," she said, stretching out her hand toward Feyre, watching out of the corner of her eye as Rhysand barely tensed in his place.