ACOTAR one shots, imagines and short stories

The Art of Moving On (Azriel x OC) - Part 2

Word count: 3222

Characters: Azriel and Elara (OC)

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Elara walked briskly down the corridor of the House of Wind, the scent of antiseptic and herbal remedies still clinging to her clothes. She had just finished her shift in the hospital wing, where she spent her afternoons tending to the injured and sick. Her healer's uniform, though practical, was slightly wrinkled, and her hair was slightly disheveled from hours of working. She absently tucked a stray lock behind her ear as her mind wandered back to the plan they had concocted the previous night.

The perfect ruse, she thought to herself, her heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and nerves. The idea of pretending to be with Azriel, of all people, to show Rylan she had moved on—it was bold, maybe even a little crazy, but it was something. And if it meant she could avoid the pitying looks and whispered gossip that she feared would come with facing Rylan, then it was worth it.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she almost didn't notice him. But as she turned a corner, there he was—Rylan. His presence hit her like a physical blow, halting her in her tracks. She couldn't avoid him; there was no way to slip past without him seeing her. Her heart sank, frustration welling up inside her. This was not how their first encounter was supposed to go. They had planned everything, and now here he was, a day earlier than expected, ruining everything.

"Elara," Rylan said, his voice tinged with surprise as he approached her.

She forced a smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Rylan. What are you doing here?"

"I arrived early," he explained, his tone far too casual for her liking. "I wanted to make sure the preparations for the summit were going smoothly before the rest of the delegation arrives tomorrow."

Before Elara could respond, a stunning redhead approached them, her stride confident and purposeful. She barely glanced at Elara as she reached Rylan's side, placing a hand on his arm. "I'll head up to our bedchamber, love," she said softly, then kissed him on the cheek, the gesture so natural and intimate that it made Elara's stomach churn.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis as Elara registered what was happening. This was Rylan's new partner. The woman was effortlessly beautiful, with a grace and poise that made Elara feel painfully inadequate in her rumpled healer's clothes. She wanted to disappear, to sink into the floor and never have to endure this moment.

Rylan, perhaps sensing her discomfort, had the audacity to look apologetic. "Elara," he began, his tone laced with pity, "I—how are you holding up?"

Elara felt a rush of anger mixed with despair. She didn't want his pity. She didn't want anything from him. But before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"There you are, darling."

Elara's head whipped around to see Azriel striding towards them, his face set in a calm, controlled mask that only those who knew him well could decipher. In an instant, he was by her side, his arm slipping around her waist with a familiarity that made her breath catch. Before she could fully register what was happening, Azriel leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead as he pulled her closer. The action was so natural, so tender, that it took her by surprise, and she felt a warm tingle spread across her skin where his lips had touched.

For a moment, everything else faded away. The awkward encounter with Rylan, the unease that had settled in her chest—all of it seemed to melt under the warmth of Azriel's presence. His body was solid and reassuring against hers, grounding her in a way she hadn't expected.