Summary: Defying Rhysand's command to stay away, Elain finds a way to meet Azriel in his dreams. Their encounters grow more passionate and intimate, exploring forbidden desires. (might write a long version of this).
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Elain:
I'm standing in the grand hall of the Night Court, my heart pounding in my chest. The air is thick with tension as Rhysand strides into the room, his usually composed face clouded with worry. Feyre is beside me, her brows knitted in concern.
"Azriel has been hurt," Rhysand announces, his voice strained. The words hit me like a physical blow. Weeks of anxious waiting, of trying and failing to reach Azriel, come crashing down on me. I clutch the edge of a table to steady myself.
"What happened?" Feyre asks, her eyes wide with worry.
Rhysand sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair. "There was an altercation in Illyria. Azriel... he put himself in harm's way.". My heart aches at the thought. Azriel, my Azriel, hurt because of me. The guilt is almost too much to bear. Rhysand and Azriel had argued, fiercely, about me. I know it was because Rhysand commanded him to stay away from me. Azriel had been avoiding me ever since, making it impossible for me to tell him I planned to break the mating bond.
"He went there on purpose," Rhysand continues.
Feyre looks confused, her eyes darting between Rhysand and me. "What do you mean?".
Rhysand's gaze locks onto mine, and for a moment, something flickers in his eyes. Guilt, sorrow, understanding. He knows. He knows that I'm aware of his command, and he feels the weight of the rift it has caused between him and Azriel.
"It means," Rhysand says, his voice cold and sharp, "that he would rather face death than be separated from..." He pauses, swallowing hard. "From what he wants.".
Feyre's confusion deepens, but I understand.
"Where is he now?", Feyre asks.
"Cassian's brought him back to the House of Wind and Majda has tended to him. We can visit him tomorrow, when Nyx is awake and can accomoany us." Rhysand says his tone firm. He and Feyre exchange a weary glance before they retire to their chambers, leaving me alone with my racing thoughts.
But I can't sleep. The thought of Azriel, injured and in pain, is an unbearable weight on my heart. I toss and turn, my mind replaying every moment of the past few weeks. Azriel's avoidance, Rhysand's command, my unresolved plans to break the mating bond—it all swirls together in a storm of guilt and desperation.
I need to see him. I need to see him now.
An idea suddenly strikes me, and I sit up, heart pounding. Throwing off the covers, I cross the room to my cluttered desk. My hands tremble as I sift through the scattered books and papers until I find the one I'm looking for: The Book of Oneironautics.
I had been studying this book with the help of Cerridwen and Nuala, practicing the dangerous art of dream telepathy. It was a risky venture, fraught with dangers, but it was my only chance to see Azriel tonight.
I clutch the book to my chest, taking a deep breath to steady my nerves. The room is silent, save for the soft rustle of the night breeze through the curtains. I can do this. I have to do this.
Carefully, I follow the instructions I have memorized from the book. I light a single candle and place it on my bedside table, its flickering flame casting dancing shadows on the walls. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I close my eyes and focus on my breathing, letting the calm wash over me.
