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Chapter Text

The hushed expanse of the library, usually a sanctuary of stillness, was disturbed by the playful squabble unfolding between two figures among the towering shelves.
Azriel's shadows danced around him, mischievously snatching the volume of Illyrian history from Gwyn's hands. The book disappeared into a void with a soft whisp as if it were nothing more than leaves caught in an autumn breeze. This was not what Gwyn had expected when she was summoned to Clothos's desk half an hour ago and informed that the Shadowsinger needed help finding certain books.

"Really, Az?" Gwyn's voice held a note of mock exasperation; her arms crossed over her chest as she watched another book succumb to the shadowy abyss.

His shadows had been surprisingly gentle, lifting the history volumes from her grasp and the shelves. Very mindful, they did not harm a single delicate page of the tomes, which had one thing in common; they all included stories of Enalius and the Daglan. And Gwyn understood why the Shadowsinger was after them.
However, that did not change the fact that he was outright stealing from the library.

"You can't just steal them. They belong to the library," she argued, her green-blue eyes flashing with indignation, the fiery strands of her hair seeming to spark with annoyance, too.

"Is it stealing if I'm doing it for the good of the Night Court?" Azriel countered, his golden-brown skin practically glowing in the soft light filtering through the tall windows.
He leaned against one of the towering bookshelves, his massive Illyrian wings folded neatly behind him, giving him an air of nonchalance that only infuriated Gwyn more.

"Stealing is still stealing," Gwyn retorted, her gaze never leaving his own. She knew Azriel rarely backed down from a challenge, but she wasn't about to let him have his way so quickly, "even for the Spymaster."

Azriel leaned forward, slightly but close enough to catch her heady scent, letting his shadows curl around them like a secret embrace. "And what if I'm only borrowing?"

"Then the borrower should ask permission first," she replied with a tilt of her chin. Despite only reaching a bit over his shoulder, Gwyn stood at least a head taller than the average woman in the Inner Circle.

As she met Azriel's gaze directly, he couldn't help but appreciate that it did not require him to look down too far. It was a refreshing change and perfect for secretly admiring those freckles, which only added to her already enchanting appearance.

"Where's the fun in that?" he murmured, his breath ghosting over her skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

There it was—that smile he was hoping to see today. It was like the sun peeking through storm clouds, doing strange things to Azriel's insides.

Gwyn let out a fake huff of annoyance as she watched his shadows carry away another book. "This is so much fun," she sarcastically muttered under her breath. And it was, but not for her. "No, seriously, Azriel. You can't just come down here and take whatever book you want," she scolded, her voice biting and sharp. There are rules," she pointed out.

"I never claimed to be above the rules, Gwyn. But sometimes, they need to be bent for a purpose," he replied, smirking at her disapproval. His cheeky grin only served to fuel her irritation.

"Your purpose seems to be making my life difficult," she declared, her arms still tightly crossed over her chest.
The tension between them was thick, their eyes locked in a silent struggle for dominance. As much as she wanted to walk away and end the confrontation, a small part of her couldn't help but want to stay and continue this battle. Gwyn wasn't ready to back down just yet, and neither was he.

"Sometimes, Gwyneth, you forget who you're talking to." He cocked an eyebrow at her in a challenge.

"Or maybe, just maybe, you need a reminder that not everyone is intimidated by the great and powerful Spymaster of the Night Court," she shot back, her gaze never wavering.

Usually, he hid the intensity of his amusement with her well. This time, though, Azriel couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped him at her boldness.

He secretly enjoyed how effortlessly Gwyn managed to challenge him. Bryce, the girl from Midgard, had been fierce and unyielding; Nesta was a force he did not want to reckon with either, but Gwyn... she was something else entirely. She stood before him with all the irreverence Prythian could provide, scolding him like a schoolboy, and he was so here for it.
Her fearlessness was both baffling and intoxicating at the same time. It somehow reminded him that beneath his title and reputation, he was just a male.
She was refreshing, infuriating, and everything in between.

Azriel leaned in closer, his voice lowering conspiratorially. "Think of it this way," he said, the shadows around them humming in agreement. "You're not just a librarian now – you're aiding the Spymaster in critical intelligence work."

Her following laughter was a chime in the library's stillness. For a moment, he allowed himself to get lost in its melody. He wanted to capture that sound, to lock it away within the deepest part of himself, where only darkness dared to tread.

Gwyn's teal eyes sparkled with mirth, unimpressed by his attempt at sweet talk. "And here I thought you were going to say something flattering," she teased, her irreverent tone resonating through the hallowed chamber of books and down Azriel's spine. But before he could respond—and oh, did he intend to—a furious voice echoed through the library, causing both of them to stand still.

"GWYNETH! Where are you?" Merrill's anger was palpable, filling the air like a thunderstorm on the verge of breaking.

Azriel's gaze shifted from Gwyn to the direction of the sound, concern flickering across his face as he studied her reaction. Gwyn's eyes had widened, filling with fear as Merrill's voice grew louder.

"Where are you, half-breed?" Merrill's spiteful words rang through the air like a whip, and Gwyn couldn't help but flinch at the force behind them. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, and met Azriel's gaze, finding an unspoken understanding between them.

"Half breed!" Merrill continued to scream, and Gwyn winced again. Azriel felt a surge of anger on her behalf.

"Go," Gwyn urged, her voice soft but determined. But Azriel remained rooted to the spot. His shadows seemed to hum with anticipation, ready to leap to her defense if needed.
Gwyn's hands balled into tight fists, her knuckles turning white as she prepared for the inevitable onslaught.

"Right here," Gwyn called out from behind the bookshelf with a surprisingly firm voice. Despite the fear that still lingered within her, she stepped around into the open, lifting her face and challenging Merrill's authority head-on.

Merrill rounded a corner, her eyes narrowing upon seeing Gwyn standing there. A cold smile played on her lips as she closed the distance between them, her steps echoing throughout the library like the approach of doom.

"Ah, there you are," she sneered, circling Gwyn like a predator stalking its prey. "I should have known you'd be wasting your time with silly nonsense instead of focusing on your duties."
Gwyn held her ground, meeting Merrill's hateful gaze without faltering. "I'm not wasting my time," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. "I was just—"

"Stop!" Merrill snapped, cutting her off. "You're always making excuses, Nymph."

Azriel's heart clenched at the sight of Gwyn being berated by Merrill, but he knew that stepping in would only undermine her strength and resolve. He watched with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as Gwyn took a deep breath, refusing to be cowed by the other woman's words.

"It is not an excuse; I was collecting books in demand of the High Lord. Would you not think that has higher priority than your research?" she replied coolly, despite the tremor that threatened to break through.

Merrill scoffed, her lips curling into a disdainful smirk. "Oh really? "she asked mockingly. "Your kind is far too flighty and unreliable to work for the High Lord."
Azriel stepped out from behind the bookshelf, his shadows coiling around him like serpents preparing to strike. His face was an icy mask, the only hint of emotion a dark fire smoldering in the depths of his eyes. He positioned himself between Gwyn and Merrill, his massive Illyrian wings spread only slightly but enough to demonstrate his strength and power.

"Enough," he growled, the word cutting through the air like a blade. "You know nothing of Gwyn's worth."

Merrill's eyes widened as she took in Azriel's imposing figure, but she quickly masked her surprise with a sneer. "I see," she spat, her voice dripping with contempt. "That's what you meant with collecting books for the High Lord... you have been consorting with Rhysand's errand boy."

"Errand boy?" Azriel repeated, his voice dangerously low. The shadows around him seemed to darken, crackling with an unseen energy that sent shivers down Gwyn's spine. "Is that what you think I am?"

"Perhaps you should return to your master and leave my assistant alone," Merrill snapped, clearly unimpressed by Azriel's display of power.

Gwyn's heart pounded in her chest, her thoughts racing as she watched Azriel tower over Merrill. She knew he was capable of unspeakable violence and had seen firsthand the destruction he could unleash when needed. But she also knew the depth of his kindness, the warmth that lay beneath his cold exterior. She couldn't help but wonder which side of him would emerge now.

"Your ignorance is astounding, but I won't dwell on it," Azriel said coolly, his voice laced with menace as he leaned in closer to Merrill. "Let me make something else perfectly clear, though: I will not allow you to belittle or demean Gwyn any longer. She has proven herself time and time again, and she deserves far better than your pathetic attempts at superiority."

Merrill visibly bristled under Azriel's commanding presence, her eyes narrowing to slits. But before she could respond, he continued his voice, a low growl that seemed to echo through the library, his shadows darkening his expression into something far more dangerous. "If you ever speak to Gwyn that way again," he warned, his voice low and lethal, "you'll find yourself dealing with a very different side of me." His wings flexed slightly, emphasizing the unspoken threat.

Gwyn suppressed a shudder as she watched the play of emotions on Merrill's face.

A sudden wave of desire rolled over her at Azriel's protectiveness. There was something intoxicating about seeing him in his element, wielding this dark authority of his for her.
Merrill's eyes flickered between Azriel's gaze and the shadows wildly dancing around him. She swallowed hard, her previous confidence wavering under the weight of his threat.

"Fine," Merrill conceded, her voice strained. She glanced at Gwyn, her eyes betraying a hint of begrudging respect. "I still need your assistance with my research, Gwyn." The unspoken understanding hung in the air: Merrill would not risk crossing Azriel again.

Gwyn broke the tense silence that followed by stepping forward, eyes trained on the Shadowsinger.

"Thank you," she mouthed just for him to see. Azriel inclined his head slightly, his eyes not leaving hers.

She could still feel the lingering heat from Azriel's body close behind her as she turned to Merrill, "I'll come with you; I'm done here anyway."

As they walked away, Gwyn couldn't resist the urge to throw one last look over her shoulder at the Illyrian warrior, standing out like a sore thumb in a place like this.
His golden-brown skin indeed seemed to glow in the dim library light, making his handsome features all the more striking. His piercing stare made her burn from the inside out, while his shadows seemed to reach for her. Gwyn suppressed the overwhelming sense of yearning she felt.

She needed to get a hold of herself.

As their eyes locked once more, she narrowed them to slits and let her expression speak louder than Words could. The conversation about the stolen books was far from over, and she made that clear without saying a single thing. Azriel had the audacity to smirk in response.

Uhhh, this guy made her feel so many things all at once.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from Gwyn as she left, her fiery hair catching the dim light of the library like embers in the night. He watched as she cast one last, disapproving glance over her shoulder, her gaze a piercing reminder that their argument was far from over. The air around them had been charged with an electricity he couldn't quite place, and despite the weight of the stolen books in his shadows, Azriel felt lighter than he had in years.

A small half-smirk played on his lips as he whispered, "Until next time, Gwyneth Berdara." The memory of their heated exchange lingering in his mind.

Because there would be a next time, there always was with her.

And it had easily become one of Azriel's most favorite things.

Chapter Text

Nesta's room was drenched in the warm, golden hues of the setting sun as her fingers worked through Gwyn's locks with deft movements, conjuring curls where there were once only straight strands.

"Stop fidgeting," Nesta chided lightly, her breath a soft sigh against Gwyn's ear.

"Sorry," Gwyn murmured, biting her lower lip as she tried to still the nervous fluttering in her stomach. The moment's intimacy, of being cared for in such a tender manner, only a sister could, made her heartache.

"Remember, just the Inner Circle," Nesta reminded her with a teasing lilt. "Which you are kinda a part of now, thanks to me."

"Right," Gwyn answered almost flatly.

"There," Nesta said, tucking a final curl behind Gwyn's ear. "You look lovely."

Gwyn blushed. "You don't have to say that."

"I mean it." Nesta squeezed her shoulders.

"Stunning," Emerie's voice rang out from behind her, carrying a warmth that made Gwyn's cheeks flush in an even deeper shade.

"Thank you." The words felt fragile on her tongue, a whispered truth she dared not fully believe.

"We finished in perfect time; Mor will be here any second," Nesta's voice rang out from behind her.

"Speaking of," Emerie said, a mischievous glint lighting her gaze as she glanced toward the doorway, "here comes our ride."

Gwyn turned just in time to see the golden-haired emissary emerging at the door, her vibrant presence filling the room like the first burst of sunlight at dawn. Mor's eyes found Emerie's; momentarily, the world seemed to pause.

"Hallo Emerie," Mor breathed softly. Her eyes were warm and inviting as they lingered on the Illyrian female.

"Hey, Mor," Emerie responded, smiling shyly as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.

Even though the exchange was brief, the undercurrent of longing hung heavy in the air.

Mor turned to them and asked, "Are you ready?" Gwyn nodded, stealing a quick glance at her friends.

"Alright then, let's go," Mor said, gesturing for them to follow her to the balcony.

Before Gwyn reached the blonde, she haltered in front of the ornate mirror, studying herself for a split second. The blue-grey fabric of her borrowed gown clung softly to her figure. Her copper-brown hair, now cascading in artful curls down her back, caught the light and shimmered like burnished autumn leaves. Gwyn had never thought of herself as particularly alluring—her large teal eyes too wide, her freckles too prominent—but she supposed she could be considered somewhat pretty tonight.

"Everyone hold on tight," Mor instructed. And Gwyn trembled slightly with anticipation as she grasped Mor's outstretched arm. They were winnowed away in an instant, and the familiar sensation of being pulled through space left Gwyn breathless.

When they materialized at the Riverhouse, Gwyn steadied herself, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She looked around, drinking in the opulence of the room they had arrived in – the finely carved wooden panels, the sumptuous fabrics adorning the furniture, and the delicate crystal chandelier that cast a warm, inviting light over everything.

Emerie offered Gwyn an encouraging smile, her dark eyes warm and understanding. She knew how strange it still felt for Gwyn to share a table with the High Lord and his family, despite their growing acceptance and the countless times Rhysand had urged her to call him by his first name.

Cassian spotted them first, his face lighting up at the sight of Nesta. He strode over and enveloped her in a crushing hug, lifting her clear off the ground.

Nesta laughed, the sound unusually carefree, and smacked his chest. "Put me down, you overgrown bat!"

Cassian obliged but kept his arms looped around her waist. His eyes gleamed with warmth and affection as he gazed down at her. Nesta's answering smile was radiant.

Gwyn's heart squeezed at the sight of them... to have a love like that...

His signature lopsided grin spread across his face as he turned to Emerie and her. "Good evening, ladies," he rumbled, extending a hand to each of them.

As they walked deeper into the hallway, the gentle rhythm of footsteps filled the air. Feyre appeared from one of the rooms, holding baby Nyx close to her chest with a firm grip. The love written all over her face only enhanced her natural radiance as she gazed down at her child.

"I'm so glad you could make it tonight," Feyre said warmly, glancing up at them.

Emerie offered a polite curtsey before speaking, "Thank you for the invite, High Lady."

Feyre shook her head, smiling, "Please call me Feyre."

Gwyn's gaze shifted to the infant in her arms, "How is little Nyx doing?"

"Growing by the day," Feyre answered, her eyes filling with affection as she looked at him. "It's hard to believe he was so tiny just a few months ago."

Gwyn watched Feyre gently rocking Nyx in her arms, thick dark hair surrounding his chubby cheeks.

"Would you like to hold him?" she asked, noticing Gwyn's interest.

"O-Oh, I don't want to impose," Gwyn stammered, her cheeks warming with a blush.

"Please, it's no imposition," Feyre assured her, carefully transferring Nyx into Gwyn's waiting arms. "He loves meeting new people."

As Gwyn held the infant close, she marveled at his fragile weight, feeling both humbled and awed by the responsibility of supporting such a precious life. And as Nyx's tiny fingers curled around hers, Gwyn knew that she would do anything in her power to protect this child, just as she had done for those children in Sangravah.

"Thank you," Gwyn whispered, her voice catching with emotion. She looked up at Feyre, who smiled back at her understandingly.

"Come," Feyre said gently, leading them further into the house. "Let's get you something to drink."

And as they followed her into the dinner hall, Gwyn's eyes landed on Elain arranging a vase of flowers on the table. Even in a simple pink gown, Elain glowed with vibrant beauty. Gwyn understood then how Azriel had fallen for her.

As if sensing her gaze, Elain glanced up and offered them a warm smile. "Gwyn, Emerie, it's lovely to see you."

Gwyn grinned, carefully adjusting Nyx in her arms. "It's good to see you too, Elain." Her thoughts drifted back to a training session a few nights ago when Azriel had opened up about his strained relationship with Rhysand. He had revealed how Rhys had caught him and Elain in a compromising position and ordered him to stay away from her. Since then, there had been tension between this brother and him, which seemed resistant to leave. Gwyn had felt his hurt and confusion, but she also knew there was more to the story than just a forbidden attraction. She wouldn't judge without all the facts, but her gut told her there must have been a reason behind Rhysand's actions. Despite her thoughts, Gwyn had listened intently to Azriel's troubles, offering comfort where she could, even though it was hard to tell what truly eased the usually stoic Shadowsinger's pain. Gwyn wondered if there was still longing between them.

Elain's smile dimmed as if she sensed the direction of Gwyn's thoughts. Clearing her throat, Elain straightened the flowers once more. "Shall I take Nyx for you?"

Gwyn paused, uncertain, but Nesta eagerly took the baby from her before she could respond. A pang of sadness shot through her chest as she let go of his warmth and weight. But as Nesta cradled him in her arms, peppering his cheeks with kisses until he squealed with delight, Gwyn's heart swelled again.

As if conjured by her former thoughts, Rhysand and Azriel emerged from a nearby doorway, likely from Rhysand's study. The High Lord greeted everyone with his usual charm and confidence while the Shadowsinger followed in his wake, his presence almost muted in comparison. Gwyn couldn't help but feel her stupid heart skip a beat as Azriel's gaze fell on her… traitor .

"Good evening, everyone," Rhysand said, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Gwyn, you look lovely tonight."

"Thank you, High Lord," she bowed slightly, her cheeks flushing a rosy pink at the unexpected compliment.

Azriel snorted softly, and Gwyn shot him a quick glare before returning her attention to Rhysand. The Shadowsinger's reaction was like ice water being poured over her, extinguishing whatever flame she had felt earlier.

They all settled around the large table, Gwyn finding herself sandwiched between Nesta and Emerie, her safe space. Across from her sat the book thief. She felt Azriel's gaze linger on her just a moment too long. He was always so composed, but Gwyn could read the subtle language of his body—the tilt of his head, the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw—as clearly as if he'd spoken aloud.

"Emerie, you must tell me where you found those earrings," Mor said from next to him, her admiration genuine as she gestured toward the delicate silver hoops dangling from Emerie's ears. They're exquisite."

"Actually, they were a gift," Emerie replied, her cheeks flushing with a kind of secret delight that seemed to spark an answering light in Mor's eyes.

A smile played on Gwyn's lips as she observed their interaction.

"Do you enjoy the wine?" Nesta interrupted Gwyn's thoughts.

"It's delicious," Gwyn replied, noticing that Nesta had opted for water over wine again.

The air was thick with the aroma of rich, flavorful dishes. Sauces shimmered like liquid gold, their decadent scent inviting and alluring. Meats were arranged with careful precision, each one a masterpiece in its own right. Vegetables steamed and glistened, promising nourishment and delight. The table was a work of art, draped in elegant linens cascading down in graceful folds. The fabric whispered of opulence and attention to detail.

Emerie's fork pierced through a succulent piece of meat, the rich juices flowing onto her plate. "You have to try this," she exclaimed, offering the dish to Gwyn with a smile. Gwyn eagerly took a bite, savoring the explosion of flavors on her tongue. She closed her eyes in pleasure, and when she opened them, she caught Azriel's gaze fixed on her. Mother, why did he have to be so intense?

The dialogue around the wooden table ebbed and flowed like a steady river; the sound of clinking glasses and scraping utensils joined in harmony with the lively chatter, creating a symphony of merriment that filled the air.

It was Rhysand, however, who cast a stone into the peaceful waters.

"What's this I hear about my Spymaster and a certain priestess causing a commotion in the library?" his voice dripped with curiosity and amusement.

Gwyn nearly choked on her vegetables, and the room fell silent as all eyes turned to her and Az. The air was tense with anticipation, and the only sound was Elain's polite coughing in the background.

"Ah, that," Gwyn finally managed to rasp out, her face flushed from embarrassment and the effort of trying not to die. Her eyes darted to Azriel, who was watching her intently, a challenge lurking in the depths of his gaze.

"Would you care to enlighten us?" Rhysand asked, raising an eyebrow as he leaned back in his chair. His purple eyes gleamed with intrigue.

Gwyn hesitated, glancing once more at the Shadowsinger before deciding to tread carefully. "It was merely a disagreement over... research methods," she said, her voice steady despite the rapid pounding of her heart.

"Research methods?" Feyre echoed, her brows furrowing in confusion. "That sounds rather mundane for all the fuss you two have caused." Great, someone had spilled the beans to the High Lord and High Lady. Gwyn needed to investigate as soon as she returned to the library and ask for amends. What if they were blissfully unaware of Azriel's kleptomaniac tendencies, and she had made herself guilty by not snitching on him, too?

Azriel's voice was like a balm to the tension in the room, smooth and deep as he brushed the matter aside. "It was rather mundane."

Gwyn's cheeks flushed with anger as she realized he was deadpan lying. She let out a huff of frustration, determined not to let him get away with it.

"Your Spymaster," she emphasized his title, "was stea... Ouch." A sharp pain shot through her knee downwards as someone kicked her under the table. Looking up, she met Azriel's dark gaze, and they both glared at each other, a silent battle taking place in those few moments.

Rhysand leaned forward again, curiosity piqued. "Go on," he urged, his violet eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Did he bother you, girl?" asked Amren with genuine concern. Azriel responded with a derisive snort, while Gwyn quickly interjected with a firm "No!"

"It was...," she cleared her throat, "never mind." Abruptly dismissing the conversation, she swallowed hard, trying to regain her composure.

Azriel's expression remained unreadable, but Gwyn could sense the tension coiling beneath his calm facade. They both shared this tension, simmering just below the surface and ready to erupt at any given moment.

"We managed to figure it out," Azriel claimed nonchalantly. Had they thought? As far as Gwyn was concerned, the books were still missing. But there was no point in pressing the matter further—not in front of everyone.

Gwyn mumbled to herself, "You are not the one that got punished in the end," not realizing that Azriel had heard every word with his sharp hearing. His gaze shifted towards her, but he remained silent.

Every person at the table seemed to be staring directly at them, their heavy gazes causing Gwyn to feel suffocated.

Next to her, her Illyrian sister noticed her desperate need for a subject change.

"High Lady," Emerie began, her voice waving slightly. Please tell us more about Nyx. He must be growing so fast."

Feyre's face lit up at the mention of her son, and Gwyn breathed a small sigh of relief as the focus shifted away from her and Azriel. "He is, indeed," the High Lady replied warmly. "He's already trying to walk, and I swear he'll be flying before we know it."

Gwyn's throat felt dry as she sipped her wine, the rich flavor failing to calm her racing heart.

After dinner, everybody gathered in the living room.

Gwyn looked into her half-empty wine glass, swirling it slowly, the ruby liquid blurring her reflection. She breathed in deeply and smiled, grateful for the respite from the tension she had felt earlier.

"Miss Berdara," Rhysand's velvety voice cut through her thoughts, drawing her attention to him. "When will I have another chance to outplay you in a chess game?"

Gwyn hesitated, her fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass. She opened her mouth to answer, only for Azriel to interject. "You know she only lets you win because you are the High Lord."

Her mouth stayed agape. What the hell was his problem tonight? She had told him this secret in the confidentiality of the night.

"That is not..." Gwyn began, the words catching in her throat like tangled vines. Hot and bright, her anger flared, but the knowing smile that crossed Rhysand's face told her that it was no use denying what Azriel had revealed. The truth hung in the air, heavy and undeniable like the scent of jasmine on a summer night.

Rhysand chuckled softly, the sound echoing around the room like the low hum of a violin. "Well then, I suppose our next game will be all the more interesting."

Gwyn glared at Azriel, her eyes burning with anger. His dark and intense gaze briefly met hers before he turned away, leaving her breathless. Bastard.

"I'm sorry…," Gwyn began to apologize.

But Rhysand's smile only grew wider. "Gwyn," he said smoothly, his voice as rich as the dark wine in his glass, "there's no need for apologies. Just please play to win next time."

She felt the weight of his gaze, heavy and expectant. "I will," she promised.

"Good." Rhysand's expression was soft, the corners of his lips curving upwards with genuine affection. "I must admit, I've never had such a formidable opponent across the chessboard. Your moves are unexpected, clever—and innovative. It would be my honor to continue our games."

Gwyn's heart thrummed a heady rhythm against her ribcage. Had she expected a punishment?

"Thank you, High Lord," her words dripped with admiration and the burning desire to prove herself worthy of his praise.

"Rhys," he corrected with a smirk playing on his lips.

As the conversation shifted elsewhere, Gwyn caught Azriel's eye, feeling the adrenaline pumping through her veins like a stampede of wild horses across the endless plains of the Night Court. She was definitely peeved with him, and she couldn't wait to give him a piece of her mind.

The Shadowsinger stood aloof, a glass cradled in his hand. Shadows curled around him like loving tendrils caressing their favorite companion; the liquid within appeared as dark as a starless night. Yet, he seemed to savor its taste with an almost meditative reverence.

"Was that really necessary?" Gwyn asked as she stormed towards him, her borrowed dress whispering against the polished floor.

"Absolutely," he murmured back, the word barely audible above the rustle of his wings. "I couldn't let him continue thinking he had bested you."

Azriel's lips quirked into a half-smile, the shadows around him shivering with amusement. His hazel eyes lifted from the glass, meeting hers with an unreadable expression. "It was…," he replied, his voice deep and smooth like dark chocolate, "the least I could do after you nearly revealed my procurement methods in the library."

She gritted her teeth, the copper strands of her hair catching the light as if to echo the fiery spark in her eyes. "So this is how you roll? Eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth?" The words tumbled from her lips, half jest, half challenge, as she closed the distance between them.

He chuckled, "Spymaster, remember?"

Gwyn huffed. "You're impossible."

"So I've been told." Azriel took a sip of his drink, eyes glinting with mirth over the rim of the glass.

Warmth flooded Gwyn's cheeks. Why did he insist on vexing her so? She searched for a cutting retort and came up empty, distracted by the play of candlelight over Azriel's angular features. Spymaster, he might be, but there was nothing secretive or sinister about his beauty.

For the first time all night, Gwyn could fully take in his appearance without the weight of emotions clouding her mind. The black dress pants and shirt, with the top buttons undone, revealed some of his bronze skin and tattoos. His hair, usually rebellious and wild, was now neatly styled and out of his face. There was no denying that he was gorgeous in every way.

If it wasn't for that stupid smirk ...

Shaking off her brief distraction, she continued to glare at him. "Well," she said, her voice low and dangerous despite the heat in her cheeks. Then I demand revenge for that kick to my knee."

Azriel merely laughed, the sound rich and intoxicating. "If you can actually get close enough," he remarked, leisurely sipping his wine.

Gwyn huffed, crossing her arms tightly over her chest. "Have I ever told you I preferred you silent and brooding?"

Azriel snorted in response. "I'm still the quiet type."

"Debatable," Gwyn retorted, lifting her chin slightly.

Another deep, warm chuckle escaped Azriel as his shadows danced around him, mirroring his amusement and adding to the palpable tension between them.

However, his expression softened shortly after, and his eyes filled with concern. "Is it true?" he asked, his voice gentle, almost vulnerable.

Gwyn frowned, her anger momentarily forgotten at the sudden change in his demeanor. "What?"

"Has Merrill punished you still?" His words were cautious, as if he was afraid of the answer Gwyn might give.

A knot formed in Gwyn's throat, and she found herself swallowing hard, the memory of Merrill's harsh treatment fresh in her mind. She hesitated, not wanting to incite Azriel's wrath against the priestess.

"Perhaps," she murmured, averting her eyes from his intense gaze. "But it's nothing I can't handle."

Azriel clenched his jaw, a flicker of anger crossing his features. Gwyn held her breath, waiting for the storm to break. But instead, he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he seemed to regain control over his emotions.

"Even so," he said, his voice low and measured, "I don't want you to suffer because of my actions."

Gwyn searched his face for any sign of deceit but only found sincerity and genuine concern. The realization that Azriel truly cared about her well-being sent an unexpected gust of warmth flooding her veins.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible above the din of conversation around them. "But I must deal with Merrill on my own."

She could see the reluctance in his eyes, the desire to protect her warring with the need to respect her wishes.

He spoke slowly, his voice a gentle touch that sent shivers down her spine. "Promise me," he said, "if things become too much, you'll let me know." Things...

"Alright," she agreed softly, "I promise."

The tension that had been coiled between them all night dissipated. Azriel's slight smile of relief brought Gwyn a sense of calm, and she realized she was no longer angry.

Tilting her head, she confidently held his still worried gaze. "It's fine, though," Gwyn reassured him. It truly was. She had had worse by Merrill.

He leaned closer, his breath a whisper that sent shivers down her spine. "No, it isn't."

"Well, life isn't fair, Shadowsinger," Gwyn countered, her laughter brittle like ice on a winter branch, "or thieves would sit in prisons." Her eyes glinted with a defiant spark directed only at him. Azriel's rich and soulful laughter cut through the air like a warm knife through butter. It was a sound so rare and cherished, and Gwyn couldn't stop the grin that spread across her face in return.

She could sense the others' watchful eyes on them, but somehow, Gwyn couldn't bring herself to care.

"Thank you, though. Truly," she spoke again, the steadiness of her voice reflecting the resolve that Azriel's concern had bolstered within her. "For caring."

His lips curved in a half-smile, transforming his face into something breathtaking. "Of course, Gwyn."

Chapter Text

Gwyn stood on her tiptoes, arm extended to its full length as she attempted to slide a heavy tome into place on the highest shelf. Her fingers trembled under the weight, a bead of sweat forming on her brow, and she wanted to cuss as she thought of the source of her current predicament - Merrill.

Even if she would finally get this one in, dozens of others waited in her cart to be sorted afterward.

The book's spine was just out of reach, but Gwyn stretched further, her slender form extending as if she were a vine reaching for the sun. Her breath hitched, the soft pads of her fingertips grazing the thick leather, when suddenly a cool shadow slithered around her wrist—a velvety caress that seemed both alien and intimately familiar. With its help, the book slid into place with a satisfying thud.

Gwyn's heart raced, not from the exertion but from the presence she now sensed behind her. It was an energy that spoke of sleepless nights and whispered secrets, which had always held the power to stir her soul's waters into quiet ripples.

She turned, her teal eyes catching the piercing gaze of Azriel, who stood like a statue carved from the depths of darkness.

There was an attempt at softness in his stance, a slight easing of his broad shoulders beneath his leathers as if he wished to appear less daunting. Not working, Gwyn thought.

"Hello, Gwyn," he said almost tentatively, his shadows clinging to him obediently and watchfully—beside the one still swirling around her wrist.

Their gazes locked, and she felt her defenses weaken like a weight being lifted from her shoulders. Being around Azriel always had this effect on her.
But she had also figured that with him, she needed to be on guard in a whole other way than with anybody else.

"Please don't take any more books," Gwyn said half-jokingly. Her arms outstretched in a protective arc, shielding the books behind her as if they were delicate treasures to be safeguarded. The corners of Azriel's mouth quirked up into an amused grin at her exaggerated display.

"Relax," he chuckled, his laughter low and velvety like a purring cat. "I'm not here to take anything. Nesta told me about the nature of Merrill's punishment, and I came to help you."
His shadows seemed to take on their own life, slithering around the library and reaching for the scattered volumes. Gwyn's eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward, her voice laced with determination. "Wait, you can't just— they don't know the shelving system."

"Then teach them," Azriel offered, his tone surprisingly soft.

And so she did, explaining the intricate combination of colors and symbols that guided the organization of the vast library. As the shadows began to efficiently shelve the books under Gwyn's watchful gaze, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this act of defiance might earn her another round of punishment. But the exhaustion weighing down on her was too much to ignore, and she allowed herself to accept Azriel's aid.

"Thank you," she murmured, her eyes meeting his momentarily before darting away.

They found themselves at the table nearby. While Gwyn flopped down into the next seat after hours of standing, Azriel turned the chair across from her to straddle it, his massive wings unfurling slightly as he settled in. His scarred hands rested atop the chair's back, and he leaned forward, resting his chin on them. The pose made him appear almost boyish.

They merely studied each other in silence for a while, their eyes locked in a wordless exchange. His shoulders were slumped, and his hands seemed to fidget slightly.
Gwyn's eyes fixated on the softness in his expression, and her heart tugged at the sight of him like this.

"Alright," Gwyn said finally, breaking the silence between them. "Out with it."

Azriel blinked, his dark eyes searching hers as if trying to discern what she meant. "I'm not sure I can follow."

"Come on, Shadowsinger," Gwyn insisted, folding her arms in front of her chest. "You've got that look about you, like something's bothering you. So, out with it."

Azriel hesitated for a moment, his fingers tapping a silent cadence on the chair's back. Gwyn's eyes traced the lines of his scars, and she suddenly became fully aware of the depth that lay within him - a depth she had only had glimpses of so far. Then, with a sigh, he began to speak, his voice low. "Rhysand has taken me off certain duties for a few days," he admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Nesta and Cassian went to the continent, and I'm left with nothing but time."

"Is that so hard to bear?" she asked a tinge of mockery in her tone.

"I spent all morning with Nyx," his voice was warm as he spoke of Rhysand and Feyre's young son. "But then it was time for his nap and I realized I don’t know what to do with myself when I am not working or training." A slight frown marred his handsome face, making him appear almost vulnerable.

"Since I didn't want to dwell in the Riverhouse for too long, I returned to the House of Wind, hoping to find something to keep me occupied." He glanced around the library, the golden hues glinting in his hazel eyes, starkly contrasting with the dimly lit room. "But with Cassian and Nesta gone, I'm at a loss, it seems."

A slow smile spread across Gwyn's lips as understanding dawned. "Ahhhh, that's what this is about," she said, her voice teasing but laced with sympathy. "You're bored?"

Azriel contemplated her words, his gaze distant as if he were searching for an answer within himself. "I guess you could call it that way," he said, a note of resignation threading through his voice. Then, he exhaled—an extended, slow release that seemed to carry the weight of centuries. "But it's more than that, Gwyn. There is this void..." He thought about how much had changed since Rhysand and Cassian found their mates, leaving him the only one of their trio without someone to share his life and time. It was a subtle, gnawing emptiness that had been growing for a while. But why was he telling her that?

The room fell silent as Gwyn studied him, her teal eyes filled with compassion and understanding. She knew what it was like to feel adrift.

The Shadowsinger then fixed his gaze on Gwyn, his vulnerability now openly flickering in the depths of his eyes as he pondered something. What though? The slight blush dusting his high cheekbones only added to the unusual sight before her – a softer, more open Azriel than she'd ever seen. "Would you like to join me for dinner upstairs later?" he asked, uncharacteristically hesitant.

Even though she knew he was exposing a delicate part of himself, Gwyn couldn't help but reply with her usual bickering, the one reserved just for him. It was her safe blanket when he stirred those emotions in her—the ones she couldn't quite name yet: "You want me to entertain you, Shadowsinger?"

Azriel's blush deepened, the faintest hint of pink spreading to his ears. He turned his head away briefly as if gathering the courage to admit something crucial. "No, not really," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm just lonely; I thought you might be too."

His words struck a chord deep within Gwyn, causing her heart to tighten. But before she could respond, he quickly added, "But no harm done if you'd rather not." The sincerity in his tone tugged at her, making her wonder why it seemed like harm, would be done if she declined. Seeing this softer side of him was almost unbearable.

His shadows returned, swirling around him like a cloak of darkness. Azriel was about to get up from his chair when Gwyn called out, her voice firm yet gentle. "Wait." She lifted herself as well, her teal eyes locked on his. "Of course, I'll come, but don't expect me to dress up or anything." Because she literally couldn't with Nesta gone.

He looked confused, but a smile played on his lips. "I would never," he almost stuttered in return. Gwyn felt her cheeks warm at his words and couldn't resist teasing him further.
"Good, because you wouldn't appreciate it anyway," she retorted, her voice light and playful.

The Shadowsinger cocked his head at her remark, crossing his arms over his broad chest, appearing even more perplexed.
"Elaborate, please." He demanded in that tone, which was not quite a command but certainly left no other choice but to obey.

Gwyn looked down at her hands, the memory of that evening burning bright in her mind's eye. "At dinner the other night," she began, "you made your disdain quite clear when Rhysand complimented me." Her eyes fixed on his, daring him to deny it.

Azriel's response came not in words but with a hushed chuckle that held an edge sharper than the blade he always carried. He turned his face from hers for a moment, the shadows dancing across his features like dark flames licking at the air. When he met her gaze again, his wings shifted subtly behind him, embodying his restlessness.

"I wasn't snorting at your appearance," he admitted. His eyebrow arched upward, a challenge in his eyes. "But rather at your blatant admiration for Rhysand. Tell me, Gwyn, what has he done to earn such favor from you when all I get is hostile irreverence?"

"Hostile irreverence..." Gwyn huffed, her cheeks flushed with indignation as she met Azriel's intense gaze. "You want my admiration, Shadowsinger? Then you'll have to work for it."

Azriel's eyes flickered with surprise and something else she couldn't quite decipher. The shadows swirling around him seemed to hesitate momentarily before they resumed their languid dance.

"Very well," he said, his voice low and velvety, sending an involuntary shiver down Gwyn's spine.

"Good." Gwyn nodded, trying to ignore the way her heart raced all of a sudden.

"See you later then?" Azriel asked with a slight smile tugged at his lips.

"Yes," she said, forcing herself to sound casual. "After evening service."

"Great," Azriel replied shortly, giving her a brief nod before turning to leave.

As she watched his form retreat, his usual confident swagger right in place, Gwyn allowed herself to reminisce about their sparring session two nights ago. How her right foot had swung out with precision, landing a solid hit on his knee - eliciting a surprised grunt from him. "Hostile irreverence, indeed," she thought with a chuckle.

She was so lost in her thoughts that she barely registered Azriel stopping in his tracks. He turned to face her, his expression unreadable as the shadows pooled at his feet.

"For what it's worth..." His voice was a low thrum, a melody that resonated with something buried deep in her heart. He didn't turn entirely, just enough for her to glimpse the profile of his rugged jawline, "I thought you looked lovely. But you always do."

There was an almost imperceptible pause, a suspended heartbeat, as Gwyn stood motionless, her thoughts tangled like threads in a weaver's loom. Then, understanding dawned, bright and blinding like the sun breaking through storm clouds, and warmth bloomed across her cheeks. It spread until her entire face was alight with a flush that spoke of hidden depths and uncharted desires.

As he turned away, resuming his path toward the exit, Gwyn clutched the moment close. She couldn't decipher the rapid tempo of her pulse nor the way her skin seemed to sing where his words had touched her.

She certainly couldn't shake the feeling that she was getting into something bigger than she had anticipated.

If only she could remember what she had initially hoped to gain from her friendship with the Shadowsinger...

Chapter Text

Gwyn's heart pounded in her chest as she raced up the grand staircase of the House of Wind, her breath catching in her throat and sweat glistening on her brow.
When she reached the top level, she burst through the doors to the dining hall, almost heaving as she gasped for breath. Her face was flushed crimson, tendrils of hair sticking to her damp neck and face. She scanned the room frantically. Her eyes darted left and right, but there was no trace of him. Maybe he'd left already, discouraged by her tardiness. Her chest tightened at the thought of Azriel waiting for her, perhaps believing she had intentionally stood him up.

But then it hit her …

… his scent.

Something earthy and musky with the slightest hint of saltpeter from his skin after training earlier.

As she entered the living room section of the House, her pulse began quickening. There he was, his back to her, gazing out one of the large windows, basking in the warm glow of the setting sun.

She hesitated for a moment, taking in the sight, before forcing herself forward, her disheveled appearance forgotten. "Azriel...," she managed to gasp out, her voice trembling with the effort of catching her breath. "I'm sorry I'm late. Deidre and Ilana kept me after the Service."

He turned slowly, his golden-brown eyes assessing her, searching for any hint of deceit. But Gwyn had long since given up on keeping anything from him- it was impossible to hide things from the Spymaster anyway. So she had always spoken her truth with Azriel right from the start.

Azriel turned, shadows swirling in wisps around him. His hazel eyes roved over her disheveled state, taking in every detail. "It's alright. I figured something came up." His voice was low and gravelly, yet gentle.Gwyn sighed in relief, smoothing her windswept hair. "Thank you for understanding. I rushed here as fast as I could."

Azriel's lips quirked. "I can see that."

A blush crept up Gwyn's cheeks as she became aware of her improper appearance. She wished she had taken a moment to fix herself now.

"Come, sit." Azriel walked over to the big dining table and pulled out a chair for her.

Gwyn settled into the seat, her breathing finally evening out. Azriel sat down across from her, the dying sunlight from the windows catching in his dark hair. She realized with a start that he wasn't in his usual leathers - instead, he wore a fitted black sweater. Her mouth went dry. The simplicity of it, tailored to hug the contours of his muscular frame, should not have struck her with such force. Yet, the sight wove a thread of heat through her veins, an intensity that seared hotter than any training leathers could inspire. It was absurd how the casualness of his attire could unsettle her so.

"I hope you haven't waited long?" Gwyn asked, her voice slightly breathless. Her heart still pounded in her chest, threatening to break free from its cage, but she couldn't tell if it was from exertion or something else entirely.

"No, all good," Azriel replied, his deep voice sending a shiver down her spine. "Are you hungry?"

"Starving," she admitted, her eyes lingering on his strong hands as he reached for the bottle of wine that awaited them. She looked away quickly, trying to hide the flush that crept into her cheeks.

Gwyn became very aware of the intimacy of the situation. This was entirely different from their midnight training sessions or casual conversations during their daily tasks.
Gladly, the House provided her with a vast distraction. Succulent roasted meats, steaming vegetables, and rich, savory sauces appeared on the table, their mouthwatering scents filling the air.

"Wow," Gwyn breathed, her teal eyes wide with awe. "House, you really outdid yourself here. Thank you."
Azriel, having witnessed Nesta talking to the House several times, was not puzzled by Gwyn's behavior. "Indeed, it has," Azriel murmured, his gaze lingering on Gwyn for a moment before he turned his attention to the food.

As they began to eat, Gwyn found herself marveling at the myriad of flavors that danced across her tongue, each bite more exquisite than the last. "Tell me about the Evening Service, "Azriel asked, breaking her reverie, "How was it?"

"As always," Gwyn replied, taking another bite. She paused, then asked, "Have you ever attended one here in the House of Wind?"

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes. "No, I haven't. I wouldn't want to make anyone uncomfortable."A sweet and melodic laugh bubbled up from Gwyn's throat. "I think Roslin and Ananke would be more than happy to have you there." Her eyes sparkled with mirth, and she couldn't help but tease him further. "They might even fight over who gets to sit next to you."

At that, the Shadowsinger huffed, a faint blush dusting his golden-brown cheeks. His reaction only made Gwyn's laughter grow, filling the room with its lilting, infectious sound. The shadows around him seemed to quiver with delight as if they, too, were wallowing in the sound.

She leaned back in her chair, her gaze drifting over Azriel as she considered their next topic of conversation.
"Do you read?" she asked, curiosity shining in her eyes.

He tilted his head, considering the question, and the shadows around him shivered in unison. "Mostly reports, intelligence, that sort of thing," he admitted, a trace of something—was it regret?—woven into his words. "It's rare I read anything that doesn't serve my role as Spymaster."

"Poor thing," Gwyn said, her lips curving with a smile that held tender pity, sending an unexpected warmth cascading through Azriel. "You're missing out on so much joy. I'll bring you a stack of books for when Nesta and Cassian are gone next time. Something to lose yourself in, away from the weight of duty."

His eyes brightened. "I'd like that," he said, genuine excitement threading through his voice. It was a note so rarely played yet so harmonious in its rarity.

Gwyn reached for her glass of wine, taking a sip as she allowed herself a moment to gather her thoughts.

"What about you and Cassian? What do you usually get up to when he's around?" Gwyn asked, her curiosity painting her face with lively strokes.
A chuckle rumbled deep within Azriel's chest, an echo of a thousand memories shared with his brother-in-arms. "Oh, you don't want to know. We get ourselves into all sorts of trouble," he confessed, a faraway look in his eyes as he reminisced.

Gwyn's posture shifted as she leaned in closer. Azriel's attempt to change the subject had backfired; her curiosity had only piqued. "Like what?" she prodded gently, eager to learn more about the man who had become her friend, her confidant.

"Pranks, mostly. We are always trying to outdo each other, seeing who can pull off the most elaborate scheme," Azriel said, his lips curving into a smile at some memories. "There were times when we'd sneak out and explore the city, just the two of us against the world."

Gwyn's eyes widened, a delighted grin spreading across her face. "I never would have pegged you as a prankster," she teased, her laughter bubbling up once more.

"Neither does anyone else," Azriel admitted a hint of pride in his voice. "That is part of the thrill – knowing that no one suspects you."

Azriel's laughter, a rare and treasured sound, filled the room as he recounted the mischief he and Cassian used to conjure. "We once replaced Rhys's favorite wine with a concoction of our own making," he said, the shadows dancing playfully around him as if they, too, reveled in the memory. "It took him hours to realize why his powers were behaving... oddly."
Gwyn's eyes sparkled with mirth, picturing the High Lord of the Night Court, dignified and composed, grappling with the chaos unleashed by two of his most trusted warriors.

"Did you ever prank Amren?" she inquired, leaning forward with a conspiratorial gleam.

"Only a fool would," Azriel replied, his voice lowering to a hush of reverence—and perhaps just a hint of fear. "But yes, we dared. Once." He paused, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "She never did figure out how her precious collection of relics ended up singing the Summer Court anthem at sunrise."
Imagining the tiny, ancient being awoken by a chorus of enchanted artifacts, Gwyn burst into laughter.

After a moment, Gwyn twirled a strand of her hair around her finger, the crimson flush from her laughter was still warming her cheeks. With an impish glint in her eyes, she gathered her coppery chestnut locks into a messy bun atop her head, loose tendrils framing her face rebelliously. "You know," she started, her voice deliberately roughened to a husky timbre, "Even if I can't replace Cassian, I can just bring a slice of him here."

Azriel raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips twitching as he tried to suppress a smile. His shadows shifted curiously, drawn to the playfulness that danced around Gwyn like sparks from a fire.

Boldness surged through her veins like liquid courage, and she rose from her seat with exaggerated swagger. She widened her stance, channeling Cassian's boisterous energy, and began moving towards Azriel with heavy, deliberate steps. "Hey, Shadowsinger," she growled, mimicking Cassian's bravado, "what sort of trouble shall we get up to tonight? I'm thinking we hit up Rita's and see if we can drink them dry!"

The dam holding back Azriel's amusement finally broke, and he erupted into a deep and unrestrained fit of laughter. It rolled through the room like thunder, rich and vibrant. The sound was infectious, and Gwyn felt a rush of joy knowing she had coaxed such genuine mirth from him.

"By the Cauldron, Gwyn," he managed between laughs, "you're terrible at impressions—but that was... nevertheless brilliant." His golden-brown skin seemed to glow with delight, a sight so rare and heartwarming that Gwyn couldn't help but join in, her own laughter mingling with his.

"Terrible?" she challenged with feigned indignation, though her twinkling eyes betrayed her. "I'll have you know I've been practicing."

"Ah, so that's what you do when you're not poring over ancient texts or besting everyone in the sparring ring," he teased, eyes softening with affection.
Their shared laughter lingered in the air, a melody sweeter than any song sung by the priestesses.

As their chuckles subsided, the House, ever attentive, presented them with dessert—plates of honey-drizzled fruit tarts and decadent chocolate cake, accompanied by glasses of sparkling wine.

"Looks like the House approves of our evening," Gwyn remarked. After retaking her seat, Gwyn lifted a forkful of tart to her lips, savoring the burst of tangy fruit against the crumbly pastry. "Seems so," Azriel agreed, his gaze lingering on her with a depth that sent a pleasant shiver down her spine.
They indulged in the dessert, each bite savored, each sip of wine a toast to their blossoming friendship.

"Thank you, Gwyn," Azriel murmured, the timbre of his voice like a caress against her senses. "For tonight... for this laughter... I didn't realize how much I needed it."

"You are very welcome."

Eventually, Gwyn pushed her chair back, letting out a contented sigh, the decadent dessert flavors still dancing on her tongue. "I'm so full," she confessed, patting her stomach with an exaggerated gesture. The candlelight flickered across her face, casting soft shadows that played upon her delicate features.

Azriel watched her from across the table, his own plate clean, save for a few stray crumbs. The corners of his lips quirked upwards, and he pushed himself to his feet, unfolding his tall frame with a grace born of countless years of training. "A walk, then? It might do us good after such a feast."

"Definitely," Gwyn agreed, her eyes sparkling with an adventurous glint. She glanced around the spacious dining hall of the House. "How about we explore the House some more?" she suggested.

Azriel's smile deepened at her proposal. "Lead the way." He extended his arm in a gallant gesture, inviting her to take the lead.

Together, they strolled through the maze of corridors, the silence of the House enveloping them like a cozy blanket. The soft patter of their footsteps was the only sound, aside from the occasional rustle of Azriel's wings adjusting at his back.

In the quiet, Gwyn found her thoughts drifting towards the man beside her, a curious mixture of power and gentleness. His presence was as comforting as it was exhilarating, a paradox she found herself wanting to unravel. Her gaze lingered on the black sweater that hugged his form, appreciating the way it outlined the muscles beneath. A warm flush crept up her neck as she realized she was staring again, but when she looked up, she found Azriel's dark eyes already on her, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Cocky bastard …
They quietly descended the spiraling staircase.

"Elain," Gwyn ventured, breaking the silence that had settled between them, "are you two…?"

Azriel paused on the stairs, turning to face Gwyn with an expression caught between regret and resolve. The torchlight flickered across his features, casting dancing patterns over the strong lines of his jaw. "No, and we will never be. It wasn't right," he began, his voice soft but firm, "what I wanted from her."

"In what way?" Gwyn asked, her curiosity evident in the tilt of her head and the intensity of her clear teal eyes.

He hesitated, then conceded. "I genuinely like her," Azriel confessed, his words heavy with unspoken emotion. "But it was more the idea of her than who she truly is. I thought... because her sisters are mated to my brothers, she should be with me, not Lucien. I felt entitled to her affection, felt entitled for her to be my mate..."

Gwyn nodded slowly, understanding dawning in her gaze. "I see. And now? Do you still wish for one? A mate, I mean?"

A wry snort escaped him, tinged with self-deprecation. "Wanting and having are two different things," he said, his golden-brown eyes meeting hers. "Real partners have always been complicated for me. People fear what they don't understand, and they don't understand me… my shadows."

He stopped speaking abruptly, a pained look crossing his face as if he'd crossed some invisible line. "I apologize, Gwyn. I shouldn't burden you with such confessions."
It was Gwyn's time to snort now, a spark of defiance igniting in her clear eyes. "Why? Because of my past? I'm tired of people tip-toeing around me, treating me like I'll break at the slightest provocation when it comes to the mention of physical relationships." Her voice was firm as she continued, "Yes, I've been through hell, and yes, I don't have much experience with males, but that doesn't mean I don't want to hear about my friend's issues or that I'm not interested in intimacy myself."

Azriel's eyes widened at her bold assertion, but he remained silent, allowing her to continue.

"Sometimes I feel like I'll never be able to escape the shadow of my past because others won't let me," she admitted, vulnerability lacing her words. "But talking about it, involving me in those topics … it makes me feel normal. So please, go on."

He hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Alright," he said softly, sharing a small smile with her. "You are normal though, I hope you know that Gwyn. "

Azriel's gaze lingered on her, something akin to admiration flickering in his eyes before he masked it with his usual stoicism.He shifted, the movement causing his shadows to swirl like a quiet storm around him. "I tend to go to the pleasure hall... it's not something I'm proud of, but necessity often leads us to places we would otherwise avoid," he confessed, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through the stillness of the cold stone walls.
"Everyone there knows the deal—no expectations, no attachments. It is purely transactional." His words were spoken plainly, but Gwyn could hear the underlying note of longing for something more genuine, more profound. "My shadows, my silence, they've always been unsettling to others. In the pleasure hall, fear can be set aside with agreements, but it never fills the void of true connection."

"Have you ever imagined what your mate might be like?" Gwyn asked softly, tilting her head as she studied him.

Azriel paused, considering her question, his form outlined against the dim light that seeped through the cracked door behind them. "Someone who doesn't flinch at my shadows," he began, his tone wistful. Perhaps a warrior at heart who understands the nature of my work and the darkness it entails. But above all, someone who sees me—not just the Spymaster or the Shadowsinger, but me, Azriel, with all my scars and fears."

Gwyn watched him before she reached out, her fingers brushing against the rough texture of his sweater, tracing the line of his arm with a feather-light touch. "I think I understand now," she whispered, her voice laced with empathy, "why you believed for so long that Mor was meant to be your mate."

Azriel's gaze softened, the harsh lines of his face easing into something tender, something almost fragile. "Yeah, I thought she represented all of that," he admitted, his voice barely above a murmur.
"Five centuries," he murmured, his voice a low thrum that resonated within the stone walls, "waiting for a bond that never snapped." He shook his head, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I was a fool, Gwyn. To think that patience alone would grant me what I desired... It feels so stupid now."

Gwyn tilted her head, watching the way Azriel's shadows clung to him. "Don't be so hard on yourself. Just … maybe it's not about waiting for someone else to make you happy," she suggested softly, her teal eyes filled with empathy and understanding. Maybe it's about finding your own happiness first and then sharing it with someone who truly appreciates you for who you are."

Azriel nodded, absorbing her words as they wove around him like a spell, binding not with chains but with the promise of freedom. For so long, he had associated happiness with a mate's acceptance, but here, in the presence of this fierce and tender-hearted priestess beside him, he began to see the folly in waiting any longer for someone else to arrive.
"I think you might be right," he conceded, a wistful smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Gwyn smiled back at him.

The moon above cast a silver glow over the ancient stones of the House of Wind, bathing the corridor in an ethereal light that seemed to hover around her with particular fondness and for a moment, all Azriel could do was simply watch her.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're an excellent friend?" His voice, usually so measured, held an edge of raw sincerity that surprised even him.
The immediate response, he received, was a blush that bloomed across Gwyn's cheeks, a rosy hue that spoke volumes more than her laughter or teasing ever could. She lowered her gaze for a fraction of a second, a subtle dance of lashes against the warm canvas of her skin, before meeting his eyes once more.

"Perhaps," she began, her voice a soft melody that wove through the quietude, "but it's nice hearing it anyway."

As they kept on strolling side by side into the lowest level, the air suddenly grew cooler.

Azriel's gaze swept over the unfamiliar passages that lay before them, his shadows seeming to pulse with anticipation. Gwyn hesitated at his side, clutching her robe a bit tighter around her shoulders as she eyed the dimly lit corridor warily.

"Have you ever been to this part of the House?" Gwyn asked.

"No," Azriel admitted, his voice low and thoughtful.

"Why does it feel like we shouldn't be here?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Scared, Priestess?" Azriel teased gently, trying to alleviate her apprehension.

"Hardly," she retorted, her chin lifting in defiance. "I'm just not overly fond of dark, creepy places."

"Would you prefer I hold your hand?" he offered, his tone laced with amusement.

Gwyn rolled her eyes but didn't object when his fingers brushed against hers, intertwining them in a warm, reassuring grip. They ventured further into the catacombs, following the faint glow that beckoned them from deep within.

As they rounded a corner, they came face to face with a wooden door, faint light spilling from beneath it.

"Shall we see what's inside?" Azriel asked her.

Gwyn hesitated, her curiosity warring with her fear as she considered the possibilities of what lay behind the door. The shadows seemed to sense her trepidation, swirling protectively around her like a cloak of darkness shielding her from any potential harm. She looked up at him, and the intensity of her gaze made his heart clench.
"Shall I?" he asked again softly.

"Yes," Gwyn whispered back without breaking eye contact. But what did she have to fear if she had the Spymaster of the Night Court by her side? Azriel nodded, and his shadows glided into the lock to open the door.

As the barrier creaked open, they were greeted by the sight of a hidden grotto bathed in the silver glow of moonlight spilling through a massive window dominating one wall. The sight left them both momentarily breathless, the unearthly beauty of the place wrapping around them like a spell.

"Mother," Gwyn murmured, her awe evident in her voice. "I never would have imagined something like this existed here."

"Neither did I," Azriel admitted, equally captivated by the discovery. He watched as Gwyn stepped into the room, her coppery hair shimmering like fire under the ethereal light.

"I can't wait for Nesta to return, "Gwyn breathed, her face alight with excitement. "She'll love it."

"Indeed," Azriel agreed, trying to suppress the strange sensation that had suddenly taken root in his chest. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before, and it made him feel inexplicably vulnerable.

They moved to the edge of the pool, entranced by the serene beauty of the hidden sanctuary. The air was heavy with an ancient magic that seemed to hum gently in their ears.
"Look," Gwyn whispered, pointing to the numerous coins scattered along the bottom of the pool. "People used to make wishes here."

"Would you like to make a wish?" Azriel asked softly, his shadows undulating around them in response to his curiosity.

Gwyn bit her lip, hesitating. "I don't have any coins," she admitted, a touch of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

Azriel's shadows stirred, then produced two gleaming coins out of the void. He handed one to Gwyn, their fingers brushing for a moment, sparking a warmth that spread through their hands like wildfire, although they had only touched moments ago. Gwyn's breath hitched, but she said nothing, instead trying to focus on the coin in her palm.

"Thank you," she murmured, tracing the intricate design etched into the metal with her fingertips. She looked up at him, her sea-green eyes searching his face for any sign of discomfort or disapproval. But she found none, only a quiet understanding that settled deep within her chest.

"Make it something good," Gwyn teased, her voice a soft melody that seemed to stir the very air between them.

His lips curled into a half-smile, and with a flicker of those broad, scarred hands, Azriel sent his wish sailing through the air. The coin spun—a tiny glinting star—before disappearing with a delicate sound, like a sigh from the depths.

"For Nyx," he murmured, his voice barely audible over the gentle hum of power that permeated the grotto. "To have a long, healthy life."

Gwyn observed him then. She clutched her own coin, its weight seeming to anchor her to this intimate scene.

"Your turn," Azriel prompted, his gaze not leaving her face, drinking in every nuance of her expression.

She smiled that radiant, fearless smile that had become a balm to his old wounds. But when she spoke, it was with a gravity that belied the curve of her lips. "For you, Azriel. To find your mate."

The words hung in the air, a pronouncement that tethered his racing heart to the ground. He moved to protest, the instinct to deflect such personal desires almost overpowering, but she was quicker, her laughter mingling with resolve.

"Don't waste your wish on me," he said, the shadows echoing his discomfort with a subtle, rippling unease.

"Too late." Her grin was impish, challenging, as she tossed the coin into the well with a grace that made the act seem like a sacred rite. Her declaration was a benediction; the coin was her messenger, carrying her hope for his happiness into the unknown.

Their wishes now entwined in the fabric of fate, they stood side by side, bathed in the silvery glow of the moonlight that filtered through the window. The room around them felt alive, imbued with the magic of their wishes, the air itself vibrating with the intensity of their presence.

"Thank you," Azriel said at last, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate with the very stones beneath their feet.

"For what?" Gwyn asked, her head tilting slightly, her brows knitted in genuine curiosity.

Azriel's eyes met hers, "For caring enough to wish for me."

Moonlight bathed all the tranquil hallways of the House of Wind as Azriel guided Gwyn back to the dorm rooms where the priestesses resided. When they reached the door, Gwyn hesitated for a moment before turning to face him.

"It was nice spending time with you outside the training ring," Gwyn admitted, her cheeks flushing with warmth. "You're not half bad, Shadowsinger." Her tone was light, but she couldn't help the way her heart raced at the thought of repeating such an evening.

"Not half bad?" Azriel feigned offense, but the shadows around him seemed to dance with amusement. His gaze met Gwyn's, the intensity in his eyes making her breath catch.

"Alright, fine," she playfully conceded, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her dress. "I enjoyed it quite a lot."

For her honesty she was rewarded with one of Azriel's rare genuine smiles. "Let's do it again soon, then," he replied huskily.

"I'd like that," Gwyn breathed and his eyes locked on hers as if trying to memorize every detail of her face.

"Goodnight, Azriel," she murmured; her words were like the gentle touch of a butterfly's wing.

"Goodnight, Gwyn," he responded, still smiling.

With a final nod, she closed the door behind her, leaving Azriel standing in the dimly lit corridor. As he turned to leave, his thoughts were filled with memories of the evening they had shared – laughter and deep conversation, quiet moments of understanding, and the unspoken connection that had grown stronger with each passing hour.

Though the night sky outside was vast and seemingly endless, it no longer felt quite so daunting.

And as Azriel walked away from the priestesses' dorms, he couldn't help but feel that perhaps, just maybe, things were changing for the better.

Chapter Text

Gwyn had remained faithful to her promise - she had brought Azriel some books he could indulge in next time he found himself bored or lonely.

She had carefully selected a variety of genres, from intriguing historical crimes to heart-pounding thrillers, ensuring that each book would hold his attention until the very end. She also had sneaked in a self-care book, hoping Azriel wouldn't find it too daring.

After Nesta and Cassian's return, things had fallen back into their usual routine. Today, they were back in the training ring at the House of Wind for their group training session.

Basking in the embrace of the early winter sun, Gwyn allowed herself a moment of reprieve. She stood with her head tilted back, eyes closed, and her coppery hair glinting like molten metal under the golden light. It felt as though she was being cradled by the very essence of life itself, and for a fleeting moment, the weight of everything seemed to lift from her shoulders.

"Cassian to Gwyn." Cassian's voice rasped into her reverie, his shoulder nudging hers playfully. "It's your turn."

She blinked, reluctantly tearing herself away from the sun's tender caress. Her comrades were all watching her expectantly, and Gwyn sighed. "I'm just going to miss again..." she muttered, her voice tinged with defeat.

"Never know 'til you try," Cassian said encouragingly, reassuring Gwyn with a smile.

"Even more reason to keep practicing," Mor, who had been part of their training for some time now, chimed in.

"Yea, yea..." Gwyn answered, rolling her eyes affectionately as she grabbed a bow and an arrow from the bracket. "You sound exactly like him." She pointed to Cassian with her head.

Gwyn moved slowly and deliberately to the marking he had drawn on the ground, her heart pounding in her chest as she faced the target about 50 feet away.

"You can do it, Gwyn," Emerie's voice rang out behind her, attempting to offer encouragement, but Gwyn knew deep down that they wouldn't make a difference.

She hated the bow with a fiery passion. Even practicing with Azriel during their clandestine midnight lessons hadn't improved her skills as much as she'd hoped. She glanced over at the Shadowsinger quickly, who was leading the other priestesses in training across from them in the vast space of the ring.

Gwyn desperately hoped he wasn't paying attention, wasn't witnessing her humiliating failure after he had spent countless hours trying to help her improve. She prayed he understood it was not his fault for being a less-than-stellar teacher but rather her own incompetence when firing weapons through the air.

With a firm grip on the polished bow in her left hand, Gwyn held it steady in front of her torso. Her right hand, down by her side, twisted the arrow until she grasped its feathered end and raised it to the bow.

She carefully notched the arrow onto the string and pulled back, feeling the strain on her muscles as she drew the bowstring back to her cheek.

The bow creaked in protest as the sinew of the string stretched to its limit. Gwyn winced as it dug into her fingers, recalling how Azriel had massaged the scars on his own fingers after his demonstration of proper shooting.

Despite the discomfort and pain of the bowstring biting into her flesh, Gwyn remained focused. She mentally calculated the distance and adjusted her aim for any crosswinds or elevation changes, just as the Shadowsinger had taught her.

At last, with a loud snap, Gwyn released the arrow from its hold. It flew from the bow with incredible speed, soaring high into the morning sky before gracefully falling towards its target.

Gwyn's teal eyes narrowed in concentration as she waited for the arrow to hit.

But it did not strike. Instead, the arrow disappeared beyond the target with blinding speed.

"Damnit," Gwyn muttered, her shoulders slumping in disappointment.

"That wasn't so bad." Cassian tried to reconcile. "The power was certainly there." He looked at his mate, hoping she would join in and lift Gwyn's spirits.

Nesta placed a hand on the priestess’ shoulder. "You've definitely improved since last time."

But Gwyn groaned in frustration, knowing that no amount of reassurance could fix her poor aim with a bow and arrow. Just as she was about to tell them not to waste their breath, a familiar voice cut through the air from behind her.

"Try again!" The words rang out, sharp and insistent.

It was Azriel - of course it was - who now appeared at her side. Gwyn turned to him fully, pleading with her eyes to just let it go.

"I don't know, Az ..." her voice trailed off uncertainly. But Azriel only stepped closer. So close that his scent hit her, a blend of the night-chilled mist and the comforting earthiness of cedar, which always had this funny effect to relax her and make her tingly in all the strangest places at the same time.

"Trust me," he murmured softly, his voice like velvet brushing against her senses.

Gwyn hesitated, feeling the heat radiating from his body and the intensity of his gaze as it bore into her soul. His nearness made her heart race like a wild stallion across an open plain, and a shiver cascaded down her spine despite the sun's warmth.

"Alright," Gwyn breathed out.

His eyes locked with hers, a flicker of vulnerability crossing his features before he schooled them back into impassivity. "Get in stance," he commanded, fetching another arrow for her.

Before she could set the bow in place, Azriel spoke again, his voice soft and hesitant. "Do I have the permission to touch you?"

Gwyn turned to him, her eyebrows raised in question. "Haven't we moved past that?" she replied with annoyance, tired of him announcing every time he corrected her or laid a hand on her. She had told him countless times that she didn't mind. She actually liked his touch. But he'd better not know that.

Nesta's sharp voice cut through the tension. "Explain," she demanded, directing her questioning gaze towards the Shadowsinger rather than Gwyn.

Suddenly realizing that they were not alone but instead surrounded by their friends during group training, Gwyn felt a wave of panic wash over her. She had revealed something crucial here, hadn't she? Something that only Azriel and her were supposed to know. Her anxiety intensified as she saw the look on the Shadowsinger's face and his reddened cheeks - like he knew whatever followed would be a tiny disaster.

In an attempt to diffuse the situation, Gwyn blurted out, "It's not what it sounds like. At night, we -"

But Cassian's teasing already interrupted her words, as if he had only waited for this. "Oh yeah, brother, please enlighten us on what you do with Gwyn at night," he joked, clapping Azriel on the shoulder, causing his face to turn even redder and his expression to morph into one of mortification.

"I-I don't..." Azriel started stuttering, looking flustered and uncomfortable under everyone's scrutinizing gazes. Gwyn chimed in quickly, trying to end the embarrassing interrogation. "He trains me. We're both insomniacs, so we use the time to train together."

Mor couldn't resist making a suggestive comment, smirking mischievously at Gwyn. "Is 'training' some kind of kinky code word?" Was the thought of her spending time alone with him to train really so alien to them?

Gwyn groaned, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "No, it's just harmless training. Would you maybe like to back me up here, Shadowsinger?" Gwyn nudged Azriel for support.

But Azriel could only look away, his cheeks remaining red along with the tips of his ears. "I... um... it's true," he stammered out a response, "I've been training her frequently since the blood rite."

Gwyn could sense the tension in his body, sensing how uncomfortable he was with sharing this information in front of everyone.

"There are no ulterior motives behind it. Just training. So can we please move on from this," Azriel finally announced, before turning back to Gwyn. "Take the bow in your right hand."

Gwyn furrowed her brow in confusion. "In my right hand?" He must be mistaken, she usually held it in her left.

"Yes," came the simple reply from behind her. He hesitated briefly, carefully choosing his next words, as if mindful of his surroundings and who was listening. "I've noticed that you stack books with your left hand. Your left uppercut is also the most precise. It made me wonder if you should shoot with your left, too."

Azriel stepped behind her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his body. And Gwyn had to swallow hard. Gently, he reached around and guided her hands into the proper position, his large hands engulfing her slender ones. The sensation of his fingers on her skin was like dancing flames, all-consuming and impossible to ignore. Yet Gwyn had to focus.

"Relax," Azriel coaxed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "You can do this." She met his hazel eyes one more time, reading the determination and belief in them. Belief in her. Slowly she nodded and turned back to the target ahead of her.

Azriel's hand moved to rest on her lower back, just barely touching, but she felt the heat of it through her leathers.

"Focus on your breathing and not your doubts," he said. "In through your nose, out through your mouth."

And Gwyn did as instructed, taking in a long breath and letting it out slowly. Her muscles loosened.

"Draw all the way back to your anchor point. Keep your elbow high." His breath feathered her ear as he spoke. She drew the arrow back, keeping her movements smooth and steady.

"Aim a little lower. You always overshoot."

She adjusted her aim and let out another breath. His hand pressed more firmly into her back.

"Whenever you're ready, release."

On her next exhale, she let the arrow fly. It sailed through the air in a clean arc before sinking into the exact center of the target with a satisfying thwack. Gwyn couldn't believe her eyes.

"Yes!" Azriel crowed, grinning.

Pride and triumph rose in her chest as she turned to him beaming.

"By the Cauldron, look at that!" Emerie exclaimed, her voice a blend of awe and disbelief.

"Perhaps you should give us all some hands-on lessons, Shadowsinger." Cassian teased, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively. However, his brother didn't seem to find it as amusing, judging by the menacing look he shot back at him.

"Thank you," Gwyn said breathlessly, unable to tear her eyes away from Azriel. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled back at her. "Anytime, Gwyn," he replied, holding her gaze.

All of a sudden a strong, almost overwhelming urge surged through her, a desire to close the gap between them and envelop him in her arms. But Gwyn knew she couldn't give in to this impulse - not here, not with "them" watching. She reminded herself that she had never truly hugged him before, never allowed herself to indulge in this simple yet intimate act of affection and surely it would be more awkward than anything else.

Her overthinking came to an abrupt end when the air around them began to crackle, and a sizzling of magic erupted.

A whirlwind of shadows danced and twirled, out of which Rhysand emerged with confident grace.

His dark hair fell in waves around his face, framing sharp features that seemed to glow with an otherworldly light. He greeted them with a polite nod and apologized for any disturbance his unexpected arrival might cause. As he spoke, the power emanating from him was palpable, and somehow, it was clear he was not here as Rhysand but rather as the High Lord of the Night Court.

"I have received word from Illyria." Azriel visibly tensed next to Gwyn.

Rhysand's voice dripped with frustration as he addressed them again. "They are criticizing us for how the blood rite played out. Accusing us of not honoring our own traditions, sending three women, two of whom are not even Illyrian."

Nesta's voice was sharp and clipped as she interjected, "It's not like we had a choice."

"No," Rhysand's expression remained calm and collected, a true High Lord. "But the majority of our people don't know the truth. They would rather believe in the lies and hate that are being spread."

An exasperated sigh escaped Rhysand's lips. "We must take action before this turns into a full-blown rebellion."

Cassian stood tall, arms crossed over his broad chest. "What do you propose?"

Another heavy sigh from Rhysand before he confessed his plan. "I was thinking of sending you and the Valkyries to demonstrate their strength in person. And prove they are worthy to hold the title."

A cacophony of voices erupted in protest, but Azriel's harsh words cut through them all, silencing everyone. "Under no fucking circumstances, Rhys."

Rhysand's voice dripped with authoritative venom as he snarled at Azriel, "That is hardly your decision to make."

Rhysand's words were like a dagger, triggering a barrage of conflicting thoughts and feelings. Azriel could practically feel him probing the depths of his mind, dissecting every thought and emotion with cruel precision. But Azriel refused to give him the satisfaction of easy access; instead, he pushed his brother out, willing his mental shields up as he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists in silent defiance.

"So what do you say?" Rhysand finally looked back at the females before him, stepping closer, his gaze piercing. "There are those among the Illyrians who doubt the might of our Valkyries, especially our two Carynthians. This is an opportunity to demonstrate your prowess, to show that the strength of our forces lies not only in tradition but also in evolution."

"Let them see firsthand the power they challenge," Rhysand continued, his voice a velvet command that was supposed to rouse their spirits. "Let there be no room for doubt, no whispers of weakness. You will stand as living proof of the skills and abilities we nurture—proof that will silence any criticism."

"Do we have time to consider it?" Nesta interjected.

"Of course," Rhysand conceded, although he clearly wanted an immediate answer. "Come to me by tomorrow night and give me your answer."

With that, they all dispersed into different groups, the Valkyries following Cassian out of the ring to most likely discuss and plan. Training was officially over for the day.

"Azriel, a word, please!?" Rhysand's commanding voice called out one last time.

But the Shadowsinger's mind was occupied, racing with dread as he thought about the possibility of them going to Illyria. The burning ache in his chest grew stronger with each passing moment, urging him to find Gwyn immediately.

Azriel mumbled a hasty "Later" before sprinting after the Valkyries into the House of Wind. He caught sight of Gwyn's hair as she turned a corner and desperately called out to her.

"Wait!" he pleaded, finally catching up to the group. He had their attention instantly, all eyes curiously stuck on his wild expression. Without giving them a chance to ask questions, he stated firmly, "I need to speak to Gwyn." When neither Cassian nor Nesta and Emerie moved, he added, "Only Gwyn."

As soon as they were alone in the empty hallway, Azriel lowered his voice to a murmur. "This won't be easy," he warned. "The males in Illyria are ruthless. Speak out of turn, and they'll see it as a challenge, see you as a challenge."

Gwyn lifted her chin defiantly. "I know what I'm getting into," she declared. "I've been in the bloodrite - remember?"

Azriel winced, remembering when he found out they were taken, like yesterday. His shadows recoiled at the memory.

"You have a choice," he reminded her gently, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You don't have to go if it makes you uncomfortable."

Gwyn let out a sigh and studied his face intently before speaking. "Sometimes we have to step out of our comfort zones for the greater good," she said determinedly.

"That may be true, but-" Azriel began; however, Gwyn jumped in and stopped him.

"No buts," she interjected forcefully. "I am a Valkyrie now, and I swore an oath to stand and fight alongside my sisters. I won't let a bunch of arrogant males scare me off."

Azriel flinched. Feeling a sudden twinge of guilt for unintentionally making her believe he doubted her, he raised his hands in surrender.

"Please forgive me," he said softly, hoping to convey his sincere apology. "I didn't mean to suggest that you couldn't handle it. I just wanted you to know that you have a choice."

Gwyn's stern expression softened at his words, and she gently rested a hand on his arm. "Thank you for your concern," she replied gratefully. "But I'll be fine." She playfully nudged her shoulder against his. "Besides," she added with a teasing glint in her eye, "Cassian will be there to watch my back."

"You will have me too, then," Azriel interjected firmly. Only realizing how odd it must sound once the words were out. Heat crept up his neck and flushed his cheeks.

"I mean...I will accompany you," he clarified, trying to regain his composure.

He mentally scolded himself for stumbling over his words. Why was he blushing like a schoolboy?

"But that's not necessary-" Gwyn started to protest, but Azriel cut her off. "If you're going, then I'm going too," he declared adamantly.

A sweet little smile spread across Gwyn's lips and the warmth that had just moments before flushed Azriel's cheeks now spread throughout his entire body.

Without fully realizing what he was doing, Azriel instinctively reached his hand toward Gwyn, silently asking her to take it. It wasn't until she placed her hand in his that he fully comprehended what was happening.The surprised gasp from her lips and the tingling sensation on his sword arm confirmed it.

He had struck a bargain with the priestess.

Something he had never done before. Not even with Cassian, who had made a game out of trying to persuade him into making one for centuries. Needless to say, he had never succeeded.

However, at that moment, Azriel couldn't find it in himself to care. All he knew was that he'd rather give his own life before letting anyone harm Gwyn ever again.

Chapter Text

The biting wind roared through the Illyrian Mountains, echoing the same coldness that seeped into Azriel's bones as they arrived at Windhaven. The air was thick with tension, and his skin prickled with unease.

He surveyed the crude tents scattered around large fire pits, their flames flickering wildly in the harsh breeze. Gray mountain stone buildings loomed near the tree line, while the opposite end of the camp boasted sparring and training rings, fully stocked with weapons and equipment. Not much had changed...

"Are you okay, Az?" Cassian asked with concern as he noticed his friend's discomfort.

"Fine," Azriel replied tersely, trying to keep his emotions concealed. He had always been skilled at hiding his pain, a result of the countless years spent enduring unspeakable abuse.

"Remember, we're here for them," Cassian reminded him, nodding towards the Valkyries who stood nearby, shivering in the cold but determined all the same.

Azriel's gaze flickered to Gwyn, her coppery hair vibrant against the whitening landscape, and for a moment, his heart stuttered in his chest. He knew she was strong, resilient even, but the thought of her facing the harshness of the camp sent a wave of nausea through him.

"You don't have to remind me," Azriel mumbled, swallowing the lump that had formed in his throat.

The shadows curled around him like a protective cloak, bringing to mind the bargain he had made days ago.

After retreating to the privacy of his room that evening, he had found himself staring at the newly acquired tattoo. To his surprise, it resembled two of his own shadows. Yet one was distinctively lighter than the other; both spiraling together, intertwined in a mesmerizing pattern.

Snowflakes fell like ethereal specters, descending from the ashen skies to kiss the stony earth of Windhaven with a chilling caress. The cold bit through the layers of their training leathers, seeking for their skin with predatory eagerness.

"So, this is Windhaven," Cassian said with a forced grin as he turned around to the Valkyries.

His tone held a hint of the usual camaraderie, but it couldn't mask the underlying discomfort they all felt.

"Charming place, isn't it?" Nesta quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Let's get settled in," Cassian suggested as he led the group further inside. "We have a busy day ahead."

Their boots crunched against the frostbitten earth as they made their way through the camp.

Azriel's wings instinctively tucked against his back, as if his body equally remembered the gruesome way they had beaten it into him to not let them slump.

He had always felt out of place among his own kind, the Illyrian's rough and aggressive nature clashing with his own refined sensibilities.

Here, in the camp, he couldn't let his guard down for a second.

He felt every pair of eyes that marked their arrival, the scrutiny like needles prickling his skin. But, he remained composed, on the outside at least.

The Valkyries moved with quiet confidence. It contradicted their delicate appearances. Even here, in this bastion of raw masculinity, they stood tall and unwavering. Somehow, it conjured a feeling of pride in him, like it was an honor to share his time and space with these females. Females he somehow knew would change the course of the future, maybe even the course of destiny itself. So, for them, he would bear the weight of this place and the memories it brought back to him.

He instantly thought back to his conversation with Rhysand before their departure.

*****

"Of all places, Az, why would you want to go to Illyria with them?" Rhysand asked, intrigue etched in his violet eyes.

Taking a deep breath, Azriel braced himself, knowing full well the weight of the confession that followed. "I made a bargain with Gwyn."

His brother‘s eyes widened, gaze searching Azriel's face for any hint of deceit. But all he found was the raw honesty of a man who'd discovered something precious amidst the darkness.

"Are you kidding me, Az?" Rhysand's words were sharp and cutting, unleashing a torrent of emotions within both of them. "After Mor and Elain...you what? Moved on to Gwyn?"

Hearing her name listed alongside the two females he had longed to be with for so long, somehow only added to his rising anger. Nevertheless, he held himself back.

"Do I need to order you away from her too?"

A deep growl rumbled in the Shadowsinger's chest, a primal sound that spoke of barely contained fury.

"That is not the same," he finally responded, his tone sharp and defensive. And it wasn't. Yes, Gwyn was undeniably stunning, to the point where he had to purposely avert his gaze at times to avoid getting caught staring. And that unbreakable spirit of hers - so fierce and resilient. It inspired him to keep going, even when he felt like giving up. But his feelings towards her were not born from lust and longing, as they had been with Mor and Elain.

He took a menacing step forward, his wings spreading slightly. Azriel's voice was firm and unyielding when he spoke. "She is my friend, Rhys.And I will not—I cannot—stand by and let her be thrown back into the horrors she barely survived once before. She counts on me."

His eyes were like pools of fiery amber, reflecting the blazing determination that had ignited within Azriel's heart. They bore into Rhysand, daring him to challenge his resolve.

"I wouldn't even have to be here if you hadn't decided to send them into the lion's den."

His words hung heavy between them, an accusation that could not be ignored. Rhysand's gaze held a playful glint, but it did little to diffuse the tension in the room. "They eagerly accepted the offer, all of them!"

Azriel merely scoffed.

"Don't you have faith in her skills? Especially after you took the time to train her yourself, as I heard."

They stood facing each other, arms crossed defensively. Both males silent, but their rigid stances and clenched jaws said more than words could anyway.

Their eyes were locked in a battle, but it was Azriel's voice that finally broke through the stillness like a sharp blade, matching the glint of his siphons in the dim light. "What exactly are we fighting about here?"

"Remember when you went to get Feyre? After you had just come back from Under the Mountain, and we hadn't seen you in 50 years," he continued, his words deliberate. "Not once did Cassian or I question your actions nor your judgment. We stood by you, supporting every decision, fighting every battle alongside you without hesitation."

Azriel's movements were graceful and calculated as he paced in front of Rhysand, and the High Lord's expression softened at the memories of that time, although not by much. "This is not the same, Azriel," he responded with a hint of doubt lacing his voice.

"Does it have to be?" the Shadowsinger challenged, his golden-brown gaze steady and unwavering. "Why is it that you always seem to think you know what's best when it comes to me? You seem intent on holding the reins over my choices. As if I cannot discern right from wrong on my own."

Rhysand tried to defend himself. "Well, tell me, wasn't I correct about Elain?" he threw in, hitting the nail on the head.

"Maybe, but that is not the point. You need to let me come to my own conclusions. And Gwyn is not Elain," Azriel replied.

Rhysand attempted to reply, but no words came.

"Az ...," he finally started, unable to meet the Shadowsinger's probing gaze. He did not get far with his answer, though.

"Be glad you weren't there that day in Sangravah," Azriel whispered, his voice breaking on the edges, raw with remembered agony. The memory of Gwyn's broken form flashed in his mind, igniting a fire within him that burned hotter than any other flame. "But I was. I was the one who found her, wrapped her in my cloak, and spoke to her with whatever gentleness I had left after witnessing what those brutes had done."

Rhysand's face paled slightly, the anger giving way to understanding. The High Lord sank back into his chair with the weight of Azriel's words pressing down upon him.

"Her sister..." Azriel's throat tightened at the image of Gwyn's tear-streaked face, haunted by the sight of her sister's detached head on the floor, its bloody features a mirror of her own. "...was beheaded right in front of her. And afterward, when she wouldn't give away the children's hideout... they violated her... standing around her... cheering..." His voice trailed off, choked by a surge of pain. " Of everyone, you should understand."

For a moment, the only sounds were the hearth crackling and Azriel's labored breathing. The shadows around him seemed to pulse with a life of their own, resonating with the intensity of his emotions.

"Forgive me," Rhys finally said, his tone subdued, the edge of command softened by regret. "You've always been there for us, for this Court. Your loyalty has never wavered, and I—" He stopped, struggling to find the words that could bridge the chasm that had opened between them.

But Azriel's gaze remained stoically locked on his friend, "If you order me to break my bargain," he spoke through clenched teeth, barely audible, "I will have no choice but to resign. My role as Spymaster means nothing if I must betray my own values."

Rhysand's piercing violet eyes locked with his, a tempest brewing within them - a High Lord struggling with the weight of authority and the ties of comradeship.

For a heartbeat, or perhaps an eternity, they simply looked at one another, communicating in the silent language of understanding that had seen them through centuries.

"Resignation is not what I want from you, Az," he finally spoke, "I tasked myself with safeguarding our family, but I see now... I see the family has grown, and so must my trust."

Azriel's muscles, tense as a drawn bowstring, began to ease at the admission.

"Go." The High Lord finally declared, "But try not to cause any extra commotion," he added, a playful glint in his eye.

*****

Azriel's mind was abruptly yanked from his memories as Devlon, the camp's leader, emerged to greet them.

Age had done little to soften the lord of Windhaven; his stance was as immovable as it had been decades ago when Cassian and Azriel were mere boys under his tutelage. His gaze swept over the group, pausing on the Valkyries with a curiosity that was tinged with skepticism.

"General," he grunted, extending a hand first to Cassian and then to Azriel in greeting. "Spymaster."

Turning to Nesta, he sneered, "And the witch." But he made no move to shake her hand.

"Hello, Devlon," Nesta replied coolly.

"And these must be the Carynthians," his tone oozed with derision.

The biting wind seemed to tighten its grip on Gwyn's heart, her breath hitching as she watched Devlon's disdainful gaze linger on her and Emerie.

Azriel's familiar warmth at her side was the only thing shielding her from the icy chill threatening to consume her, and once again, she thanked him internally for joining them on this trip. Even though she could sense the permanent tension rolling off him, his presence alone gave her enough courage to face this daunting man.

"I never thought I'd see the day when females would be permitted to our sacred rituals. "Devlon spoke with disgust and disbelief laced in his words. And it was clear that he never wanted this change to happen. "Much less that you survive it."

Cassian stepped forward, his broad shoulders squared. "Devlon," he began, his voice laced with authority, "let me remind you that Rhysand himself has ordered for these females to be treated as equals and allowed to train here with the others at Windhaven."

Devlon's eyes narrowed, his muscles tensing beneath his weathered skin. For a moment, Gwyn feared that he might lash out, but then the commander of the war camp exhaled sharply, his expression darkening further.

"Fine," he grumbled, the word heavy with resentment. He pulled out a parchment with the current training schedule from his pocket and handed it to Cassian.

"Then don't expect any special treatment. "Devlon scoffed, his gaze remaining fixed on Nesta. "What do you hope to achieve here, witch? You already know you can't keep up with the Illyrian ways?" His voice dripped with disdain, each word landing like a slap across her face.

Gwyn clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought to contain her anger. She knew Nesta could handle herself, but it was difficult to stand by and listen to such blatant disrespect. However, this was not her battle to fight.

Nesta straightened her spine, meeting Devlon's gaze unflinchingly. "I'm not here to 'keep up' with anyone," she said coldly. "I'm here to train and become stronger. If that threatens you, then perhaps it's your own abilities you should be questioning."

Devlon's eyes narrowed, but Gwyn could see a flicker of surprise in their depths. Clearly, he hadn't expected Nesta to stand up to him so boldly.

"Bold words for someone who has yet to prove herself," he retorted, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Oh, if only he knew what Nesta was capable of…

"Rest assured, I will," Nesta replied, her voice as icy as the wind that whipped around them.

Silence stretched between them, thick with tension and unspoken challenges.

"Let's not waste any more time," Devlon finally said, breaking the silence. "You're here to train, so train you shall. Just remember that this is my camp, and you will abide by my rules."

"Understood," they replied, leaving no room for arguments.

As they began to follow Devlon deeper into the camp, Gwyn couldn't help but glance at Azriel. Their eyes met briefly, and she could see the worry in his dark gaze.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the camp in a deceptive calm. But beneath the surface, a storm was brewing.

They wanted to move to a future where strength was measured not by gender but by courage and heart. As they took their place among the warriors of Windhaven, prepared to shatter expectations and forge a new legacy, there was a sense that the very stones of the mountains themselves were watching, bearing witness to the winds of change that had begun to howl through the ancient peaks of Illyria. Yet, were they really changing?

Chapter Text

The Illyrian females had finally begun to open up, their frosty exteriors slowly melting away as they trained together with the Valkyries.

They had found out, that females indeed didn't receive any special treatment from the males here, just like Devlon had promised. They were expected to carry the same weight, eat the same amount of dirt, and endure the same punishments, no wonder they had to grow such thick skin.

The only exception was when they were menstruating; then, they were forced to leave the camp due to an ancient belief that menstruating females brought bad luck.

How that made any sense in a culture that was so focused on breeding had never made any sense to Azriel.

He had been warming up alongside them, as he noticed Emerie's gaze lingering on the clipped wings of the other Illyrian females one too many times. He gave her a small nod of encouragement then, only imagining what emotions she must be experiencing.

"Alright, everyone," Cassian called out, clapping his hands together to signal the end of the warm-up. "Time to pair up for sparring.“

Azriel observed yet another young Illyrian woman make her way to Emerie's side, as he had witnessed many other times in the last two days.

She was popular amongst her kind, emanating a magnetism that Gwyn and Nesta couldn't quite replicate.

There was something special about the approaching girl though. She moved with a slight limp, favoring her left leg where an old injury must pain her still and yet her eyes shone bright.

"Could I …,“ the Illyrian female started, a slight tremble in her voice,"could I spar with you?“

"Of course," Emerie replied warmly, giving the girl a reassuring smile. Their gazes locked, a silent understanding passing between them – Illyrian to Illyrian.

A few males had stopped their own training, eyeing the females suspiciously. Their lingering gazes was an unwelcome reminder that they were being watched, judged, and doubted at every turn.

Azriel was aware that eventually, one of the girls would have to spar against a male, especially one of the Carynthians, to prove their worth as warriors. But for now, he was grateful that the fights were limited to just the female trainees.

Emerie effortlessly deflected the first strike, but the next one caught her off guard.

"Impressive," she remarked, taking a moment to catch her breath as she blocked another attack. "You're quite skilled."

"Thank you," the girl responded, dodging a quick jab from Emerie. "I've been training for as long as I can remember."

"Really?" Emerie asked, curiosity piqued. "What's your name?"

"Rahna," the girl answered, her gaze never leaving Emerie's as they continued their dance .

"Nice to meet you, Rahna," Emerie said, smiling warmly despite the ongoing spar. "I'm Emerie."

"I know who you are," Rahna replied, a hint of admiration seeping into her voice. "You won the Blood Rite." There was a subtle awe emanating from Rahna, though the girl tried to hide it. Emerie felt both humbled and proud by the weight of that recognition.

"Yes. Thanks to my friends, Gwyn and Nesta," Emerie admitted, deflecting a particularly forceful blow from Rahna. "Without them, I wouldn't be standing here today."

"Still, it's impressive," Rahna said, her voice tinged with respect."Your victory has given us hope," she said, her eyes shimmering with open admiration now, which did funny things to Emerie's heart. "We've been waiting for someone like you to show them we're more than just chattel.“ Who she meant with "them" was clear as daylight. They were interrupted by Cassian's voice, calling out the next set of drills, breaking the tender moment between them. "Remember to focus on form, not force," he reminded them.

"Keep your elbow in, protect your side.“ Emerie offered her.

"Like this?" She asked, her stance open and eager for correction. But now Emerie could see the thick scar peeking out from beneath her shirt and she had to swallowed hard to suppress the wail, that threatened to break free. Rahna's story was probably filled with horror, much like her own, yet she stood tall, defiant and with so much hope in her eyes.

"Exactly like that," Emerie affirmed, moving to adjust the angle of the girl's arm. "You are doing so good.“ She encouraged her.

"Thank you. They must be exceptional warriors," Rahna commented, her gaze following Azriel as he moved around them. "To have trained you and help you win."

"Exceptional, yes," Emerie agreed. "But also brutal at times.“ She said with a glint of mischief in her eyes. "But never anything but fair and respectful.“

"You are very lucky then," Rahna said solemnly. "To have found such trainers.“

"Indeed," Emerie replied, her gaze drifting over to Cassian. "They have also become dear friends.“

—-

Gwyn wiped the sweat from her brow as she circled the female warrior before her. The Illyrian's dark wings were clipped short, the jagged edges revealing years of abuse. It was a horrible sight, but the thought of the oppression these females must have endured - were still enduring - was even worse.

The female lunged, her fist slicing through the air toward Gwyn's face. Gwyn pivoted and blocked the blow, using the momentum to send the female stumbling past her.

"You're fast," the Illyrian panted, turning to face Gwyn once more. Up close, Gwyn noted the deep grooves around her mouth, evidence of someone who rarely smiled. Her flinty eyes regarded Gwyn with curiosity. "What's your name?"

"Gwyneth. But my friends call me Gwyn."

The female nodded slowly. "I'm Gretta."

Gwyn gave her a small smile. "It's nice to meet you, Gretta."

Gretta's eyes widened in surprise, as if she wasn't accustomed to such pleasantries.

They began circling each other again. Gretta kept her guard up, but her voice softened. "Is it true you won the Blood Rite?"

Gwyn nodded. "Yes."

Gretta shook her head in awe. "I can't believe they let females compete. The males here were furious."

"Yea, they certainly weren't happy about it," Gwyn said wryly. "Although we really didn’t have much of a say in taking part either.“ She launched a series of strikes at Gretta, who managed to block each one. "We were kidnapped.“

"How did you do it though?" Gretta asked breathlessly as she dodged another punch. "Survive, I mean?“

Gwyn swept Gretta's legs out from under her, sending the female crashing onto her back with a grunt. Gwyn offered her a hand and helped pull her to her feet.

"I survived because I had my friends by my side," Gwyn said.

Gwyn's thoughts drifted back to those harrowing days in the forest. "It was...brutal," she said honestly. "I was terrified. But my friends refused to leave me behind. Emerie especially - she carried my all the way up to Ramiel’s top.“

Gretta nodded slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes.

Gwyn smiled softly. "Things are changing though, even if it's slow. Rhysand is committed to giving females a chance to be warriors. Just look at the High Lady.“

Gretta nodded, a spark of determination entering her eyes. She clenched her fists. "Maybe I'll be next to win the Rite," she declared.

Gwyn smiled encouragingly. "I believe you can.“

Gwyn's attention was drawn away as Azriel approached, his powerful wings tucked in tightly as he observed their sparring. His face was unreadable as always, but she could have sworn his eyes lingered on her for a moment too long.

Azriel paused beside Gretta, who immediately stiffened and averted her gaze. "Keep your center of gravity lower," he advised quietly. With surprising care, he adjusted her stance, then continued walking.

Gretta let out a shaky breath, staring after him. "Don't you find him frightening?" she whispered to Gwyn. "With those shadows writhing around him all the time?"

Gwyn glanced at Azriel thoughtfully. The shadows surrounding him did make him appear quite ominous to those who didn't know him.

"I used to," she admitted. "But once you get to know him, you realize everything he does comes from a place of caring."

Greeta looked surprised by this insight. Gwyn just smiled again. She knew Azriel's true nature, hidden behind this unreadable mask of his. And she cherished being someone he allowed to see beyond it.

"And the shadows," Gwyn continued, "are quite charming actually."

Gwyn wondered if he had overheard, when Azriel's stride hitched almost imperceptibly. Before he moved on she saw the barest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Oh he had so definitely overheard …

At her words something within him tugged, a ghost of a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. He allowed himself the smallest moment of indulgence, savoring the warmth that spread through his chest. It meant a lot to him, her acceptance of his shadows , her acceptance of him, something he rarely found outside of his closest friends.

But the moment was brief, as someone from his past invaded his senses.

"Shadowsinger," a gruff voice called out, drawing his attention away from Gwyn. An older Illyrian warrior approached him, wearing the traditional leather armor and carrying a battle-axe at his side. Azriel realized it was one of his father’s friends.“You've been gone from our lands for quite some time."

"Kael," Azriel acknowledged with a curt nod, his eyes narrowing slightly. He had never cared much for the warrior, but he had been kind enough to Azriel when he was younger. He would often remind the other trainers who Azriel's father was, and sometimes that was enough to lessen the severity of any punishments he received.

"I highly doubt your father would appreciate you training females," Kael said with a sneer, glancing pointedly at Gwyn. "Especially half breeds like her"

"I couldn't care less about my father's opinion", Azriel snapped icily, his body tensing as his gaze flicked between Kael and Gwyn. "Despite that, the Valkyries have won the bloodrite."

"Ah yes," Kael scoffed, "the Valkyries. What a charming experiment." He eyed Gwyn again, this time with an unsettling hunger. "I wonder how long it would take me to break that one."

Azriel's jaw clenched, the shadows around him tightening like a noose. "Keep your thoughts to yourself," he growled, taking a step closer to Kael, his eyes darkening with anger. "Or I'll rip them from your brain."

"Such strong words," Kael mocked, eyebrows raised in amusement. "Does she know what you're really like, Shadowsinger? Does she know what you've done?"

"Be quiet now," Azriel's voice was low and dangerous. He knew Kael was trying to provoke him, but the thought of him laying a hand on Gwyn made him see red. "And keep your distance from her."

"Or what?" Kael challenged, raising an eyebrow. "You'll kill me?"

"Try me," Azriel warned, his eyes locking onto Kael's with a lethal intensity.

Kael held the stare for a moment before finally backing down, muttering something under his breath as he walked away. Azriel exhaled sharply, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to quell the rage that threatened to consume him.

"Is everything alright?" Gwyn's soft voice reached him, and he turned to find her standing a lot closer, her sea-green eyes filled with concern.

"Everything is fine," Azriel reassured her, his tone even despite the tremor that still went through him. "Just some old history resurfacing."

"Nothing to worry about?" Gwyn pressed, her gaze searching his face for any signs of distress.

"No," Azriel confirmed, offering her a small, reassuring smile, although it did not reach his eyes.

"Alright," Gwyn murmured, biting her lip as she hesitated for a moment before turning back to her opponent.

Fuck ...

Azriel knew this was only the beginning. And with what he had just unintentionally revealed to Kael ... Azriel shuddered - that he cared for the Valkyries, cared for Gwyn - he might have just given them the leverage, they needed to hurt him were it hurt most.

Chapter Text

And Azriel's fears should find themselves to be justified...

Only a day after the incident with Kael, they came dangerously close to losing one of the Valkyries. Although it wasn't the one he had initially worried about.

Emerie squared her shoulders, sizing up the Illyrian male who stood before her. He was undeniably attractive, with a towering frame and muscles that were evident even beneath his clothes. Just like Azriel and Cassian, he bore the same intricate tattoos on his arms.

But the sneer on his face somehow wiped away any allure he might have.

It was a cruel thing that conveyed how much he looked forward to putting her in her place. And despite having agreed not to use any weapons, it promised her pain, severe pain.

Good, Emerie thought. Let him think he has the upper hand here.

The crowd began to gather, a riot of shouts and snarls as the Illyrians placed bets on how long she'd last. Emerie rolled her shoulders, limbering up as she and the male began to slowly circle each other.

"I'm going to enjoy wiping the floor with you, girl," he growled. His wings flared, shadowing them both as if to mock her inability to do so.

Emerie bared her teeth in a grin. "You're welcome to try."

He lunged at her, a flurry of fists and kicks. Emerie dodged and blocked, her own strikes landing with sharp cracks of impact. The male managed to clip her jaw, and she tasted blood—but she also got inside his guard and smashed her fist into his gut.

As he stumbled back with a wheeze, the crowd went wild. Emerie barely heard them over the rush of blood in her ears.

Sweat dripped into her eyes as she narrowly dodged a kick that would have shattered her knee. But she managed to land another punch, snapping the male's head back. He spat on the ground, wiping his mouth, and let out a feral snarl.

The cheering faded into a tense silence. Emerie steadied her breathing, watching as the male began circling her again. But something different in his gait—a predator's grace—set her on edge. Her heart stuttered.

He lunged without warning, a flurry of blows that drove her back a step. Then another. Emerie gritted her teeth against the pain, struggling to keep up. She was tiring, and the male could sense it. A grim sort of glee lit his eyes as he pressed the attack.

The crowd had gone deadly silent, waiting.

Fear and anger twisted in Emerie's gut; she couldn't lose, and she didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her fall.

With a roar, she launched herself at the male. Her fist connected hard enough to rattle her bones, and he stumbled back just the slightest bit.

She swung again, but he darted away and stumbled back several steps. Then he simply stood there, watching her with hooded eyes.

Waiting.

Emerie tensed, wary of a trick, and then she glimpsed a flash of silver - a knife. Her heart froze.

The male lunged, the blade a glinting arc through the air as he slashed at her throat. Emerie threw herself sideways, the knife slicing across her arm. She hit the ground and rolled, scrambling to get her feet under her even as blood soaked through her sleeve.

Someone in the crowd was screaming. Cassian? Gwyn? Weapons weren't allowed—he had broken the rules of the challenge.

But the male didn't seem to care. He turned on Emerie again, lips curled in a snarl, and brandished the knife.

"Come now," he purred, beckoning her with his bloodied blade. "Let's see what you're really made of, Carynthian."

He lunged again, but Emerie was ready this time. She dodged his blade and landed a punch to his jaw that sent him reeling.

The knife slipped from his grasp and clattered to the ground. Emerie kicked it away, out of his reach, and faced him again with fists raised.

The male sneered, wiping blood from his mouth. "You think you've won?" His hand dipped into his boot once more and emerged with another knife. "I told you I will rip that title off of you. One way or another."

He attacked in a blur of motion, the blade a silver flash. Emerie lifted her arm to shield her face—

And screamed as the knife bit deep into her hand.

Everything went still. Emerie stared at the hilt protruding from her palm, numbness fading into a blaze of agony.

The crowd erupted into shouts and cries. Through the haze of pain, she glimpsed Cassian and Azriel running towards her, their faces dark with rage.

Cassian grabbed the male and slammed him to the ground, pinning his arms behind his back. Azriel was at Emerie's side in an instant, shadows swirling around him.

"Easy," he murmured, grasping her wrist to hold her hand steady. His touch was impossibly gentle. "I'm going to pull the knife out. Take a deep breath."

Emerie inhaled sharply through her teeth as Azriel withdrew the knife in one swift motion. Blood welled and dripped between her fingers.

Azriel ripped a strip of cloth from his tunic and wrapped it tight around her hand. "It's deep," he said grimly. "We need to get you to the healers."

His eyes flicked to the male Cassian was hauling to his feet. "He will pay for this."

A muscle feathered in his jaw. His hands tightened on Emerie's arm as if he couldn't bear to let go.

As Cassian dragged the male away, shouts and insults followed in their wake. Azriel's gaze remained intense and unreadable on Emerie.

"Can you walk?" He asked softly. She nodded, swallowing hard against the bile rising in her throat.

Azriel slid an arm around her waist to support her. "I've got you," he murmured.

And Emerie, cradling her injured hand to her chest, believed him.

Azriel's shadows swirled and hissed around them as he escorted Emerie away from the crowd, Nesta and Gwyn now at their side.

The Illyrian male struggled against Cassian's grip, still spitting curses at Emerie.

"Weakling," he sneered. "Pathetic excuse of a female." His lips curled into a sneer. "You don't deserve the title. You are a disgrace. Your father should have killed you."

Azriel went still as stone while Emerie flinched beside him.

In a flurry of shadows, Azriel had taken him from Cassian and slammed the male hard against the nearest surface, pinning him there with Truthteller at his throat.

Azriel's voice was a barely contained growl as he spoke, his words laced with deadly promise. "Say one more word," he warned in a dangerous tone, "and I will make sure it was your last. "

The male's eyes widened, all bravado fleeing. Azriel's shadows writhed and crackled, razor-edged darkness given form.

"Now apologize," Azriel commanded, his voice deathly quiet. The knife pressed deeper, a trickle of blood running down the male's neck.

He swallowed hard. "S-sorry," he stammered.

"Not to me," Azriel interrupted. His gaze slid to Emerie, "To her."

The male dragged his gaze to Emerie, who was now supported by both of her Valkyrie sisters. She stared back at him, unflinching this time. "I apologize," he gritted out.

Azriel studied him for a long moment. Then he stepped back, sheathing his knife. The male sagged in relief against the wall.

"Enough," Devlon barked, approaching with hurried strides. He surveyed the scene, frown deepening at the sight of Cassian again restraining the male. "What is the meaning of this?"

Cassian inclined his head. "He attacked Emerie with knives during a fight that was supposed to be without weapons. We stepped in before any more harm could be done."

Devlon's glance shifted to Emerie's hand, noticing the cloth wrapped around it was now saturated with blood. His jaw clenched. "Is this true?"

Emerie lifted her chin. "It is."

Devlon studied her for a long moment before looking at the cowering male. "You will be punished for breaking combat rules and harming a fellow warrior. Severely."

The male paled further, sputtering protests, but Devlon silenced him with a glare. He jerked his head toward the ring of onlookers. "The challenge is over. Return to your duties, all of you."

The crowd dispersed, muttering amongst themselves. Devlon grasped the male by the arm and hauled him off, leaving Emerie alone with her friends.

——-

Azriel was pacing in his tent, shadows writhing around him as rage and worry battled inside him. He couldn't get the image of Emerie's mangled hand out of his head or the sounds of her screams.

"We need to get the girls out of here now," Azriel growled.

Cassian sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I understand your worry, but we can't abandon the mission now. It will make them look weak. The Illyrians already doubt their worth, and we can't give them more reason."

Azriel whirled on him, eyes flashing. "I don't give a damn how it looks. Emerie could have died today…"

Cassian's face softened. "I know. Believe me, I wanted to rip that bastard apart. But if we go now, they will definitely riot."

Azriel dragged a hand through his hair, shadows caressing his knuckles. Cassian was right; he knew that. Leaving now would undo all their work to gain the Illyrians' respect. But the memory of Emerie, pale and bleeding, haunted him. Which one of them would be next? Nesta? Gwyn?

"Something's up," Azriel said, a chill running down his spine. "I can feel it. This wasn't some random act of violence."

Cassian stopped pacing. His hazel eyes narrowed. "You think they'll attack again?"

Azriel shrugged. "I don't know. But we should be prepared for anything."

Cassian studied him, and then he nodded. "I trust your instincts. We'll be on even higher alert from now on."

Azriel let out a slow breath, shadows flickering in agitation. He wouldn't - couldn't - let these bastards harm any of them again.

"Alright," he said, voice rough. "But if anyone hurts them again..." He trailed off, shadows swirling in a display of primal violence, and Cassian's eyes gleamed with understanding.

"Gods help them," Cassian finished softly.

Azriel's lips twitched in a humorless smile, shadows caressing the tent walls. "There will be no gods to help them when I'm through."

A shadow curled around Azriel's ear, whispering of an approaching figure. He straightened, shadows gathering in a dark cloud, when Devlon strode into the tent, wings tucked in close to his body in a show of peace.

"I came to apologize," he said, "for the actions of my warrior today." His jaw clenched. "What he did was inexcusable. I dealt with him personally."

Azriel's shadows hissed, and he fought the urge to unleash them.

"We accept your apology," Cassian said, though his tone suggested otherwise.

"How is the girl?" Devlon asked. "Will she heal?"

"She will," Cassian said, "it will leave a scar, though."

Devlon winced. "I am sorry for that as well. As a gesture of goodwill, I invite you both to join me for a drink at the tavern." He glanced between them. "To demonstrate there are no hard feelings and that we consider the matter resolved."

Azriel tensed, shadows flickering in agitation. He didn't trust Devlon's offer, neither did Cassian by the looks of it - his jaw was clenched and tension rolled off of him in waves.

They exchanged a wary glance, hesitation lingering between them, and Azriel knew without further asking that he needed to stay close to his mate tonight, to the Valkyries.

So did he, really.

He would have to shoulder this burden alone.

"Very well, I'll join you," Azriel agreed, "as a gesture of goodwill. "He added mockingly.

"Be careful," Cassian warned his grip on Azriel's shoulder a solid reassurance.

"Always," Azriel replied, offering a small smile before stepping out into the night.

Azriel trailed behind Devlon as they wended through the camp, his shadows rippling out to scout their path. The tents, fires, and warriors they passed seemed innocuous enough, but Azriel kept his hands loose at his sides, ready to summon Truthteller at any moment.

His shadows whispered of no immediate threats, but the tension in his shoulders only grew as they approached the establishment. And the raucous laughter and clinking of glasses did little to quell the unease coiling within him.

He hesitated momentarily at the entrance, bracing himself for what lay inside.

And as he entered, the tavern went silent, dozens of Illyrian heads swiveling to stare. A few sneers and glares were thrown Azriel's way, but he was used to such hostility.

Devlon strode to the bar and bellowed, "Drinks for all!"

A ragged cheer went up, which eased the tension in the room. But Azriel remained near the entrance, watchful and wary.

While the Illyrians appeared to tolerate his presence for now, Azriel didn't doubt there were those who still resented him. And if they got him alone...

As he finally walked to the bar, he kept one hand still loose at his side. Ready.

Devlon slid onto the stool beside Azriel, clapping him on the back with enough force to make Azriel wince. But he kept his face blank, shadows flickering in warning.

"No need to look so tense," Devlon said, waving to the bartender for an ale. The bartender slid a mug to Azriel without asking, the foam sloshing over the sides. Azriel stared at it; his instincts screamed not to drink it.

"Have a drink," Devlon said, raising his mug. The Illyrians raised their mugs in turn, a few calling out, "To the High Lord's lapdogs!"

Azriel gripped his mug but didn't lift it, scanning the room again. The Illyrians were watching them closely, hostility poorly concealed behind false smiles. His shadows hissed a warning, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

"You're not drinking?" another male asked, his brow raised. Azriel met his gaze. "I don't care much for ale."

It was a disrespectful move, rejecting their offer of peace. Devlon's gaze turned steely, and Azriel braced himself. His shadows swirled and hissed, ready to attack. "Is our prized Illyrian ale not up to the standards of the Shadowsinger?"

Azriel spoke smoothly, assuring, "I meant no offense," as he raised the cup to his lips.

The tension in Azriel's shoulders remained as the Illyrians drank and laughed. He nursed his ale, more interested in observing than participating.

A few tried to engage him in conversation, but he gave only curt, disinterested replies until they had given up on interacting with him.

One of the Illyrians on the other side of the room turned to his friend and asked, "Where's Cassian tonight? He's usually the first one to grab a drink."

"Ah, he's probably busy keeping his bitch warm," another one jested crudely, venom lacing the word 'bitch' like poison on an arrow's tip.

Azriel went still. His shadows flickered and stirred, matching the rage beginning to boil in his blood.

"Must be quite the task, taming a wildcat like Nesta Archeron," a third added, his words dripping with disdain.

The Illyrian's companion grunted, "I wouldn't touch that witch with a knife and fork."

A growl rumbled in Azriel's chest. He took a step toward them, shadows writhing—

"Easy." Devlon had appeared at his side, clutching his arm in warning. "They are drunk and stupid. Not worth the trouble."

Azriel's jaw clenched, his shadows trembling with the effort to restrain themselves. "Insult my family again," he said quickly, "and you'll learn how much trouble I can be."

The Illyrians paled but sneered. "What's it matter to you?" the first one challenged. "Do you and Cassian take turns with her?"

Azriel surged for them, shadows snapping out—

Devlon yanked him back. "Enough," he snarled. He warned the Illyrians, "The next fool who speaks will lose his tongue."

They shut their mouths, but fury still smoldered in Azriel's chest. His family, his friends—he'd rip out the throat of anyone who dared to threaten them.

A hush fell over the crowd, eyes glinting with the reflection of the dimly lit room. They were all fixated on the solitary figure, whose presence seemed to command the darkness itself. Azriel took a big sip of his drink, hoping the alcohol could magically calm his nerves.

One brash warrior, emboldened by false courage or sheer folly, broke the tension with a leering grin.

"Tell us, Azriel," he slurred, leaning forward with the confidence of a male who believed himself untouchable—a misjudgment the Ilyyrians almost all harbored. "Which one of the Valkyrie have you taken to bed?"

The question hung heavy in the smoky air, a provocation wrapped in vulgarity. The shadows around him quivered with a silent rage that begged for release.

"Your curiosity is as misplaced as it is inappropriate," he replied.

But laughter again erupted from the table. The Illyrians leaned in closer, unaware of the inferno they courted within the shadowsinger before them.

"Come now, don't be coy," another chimed in, elbowing his companion with a chortle. "Someone with your wingspan must have some tales to tell."

Azriel's fists clenched beneath the table, the knuckles turning white as marble. "I have not lain with any of them," he said through gritted teeth, his statement slicing through the din of bawdy jokes and slurred words.

But the tension only tightened, wound up by disbelief and the potent brew of the liquor they were drinking. An Illyrian warrior, broad-shouldered and smug, leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing as he studied Azriel with an invasive gaze.

"Ah, but that's not quite true, is it? "the male interjected, his voice dripping with insinuation like honey laced with poison. "That copper-haired siren, I've seen the way she looks at you, the way your shadows dance around her."

Azriel felt the heat rise in his chest, a silent inferno that threatened to engulf the room. His hands remained still, but the muscles along his jaw flexed with the effort of restraining what simmered just below the surface.

"Mind your tongue," he warned, the velvet of his voice now edged with the sharpness of obsidian. "Gwyn is beyond reproach. And so is my respect for her."

"Respect, eh?" the brash Illyrian chortled, tipping his drink in a mock salute. "If the way she handles a blade is any indication, she is quite the ride. "

A collective snicker spread among the group, their crude humor fouling the air like a miasma.

Azriel's shadows pulsed with a rhythm that matched the thunderous beat of his heart, a silent yet deadly dance that only he could understand. The tavern's raucous laughter and crude jests fell away as he stepped in on the male who dared to sully Gwyn's name with his filthy insinuations.

"Listen," Azriel began, his voice a low growl that seemed to vibrate through the wood and leather of the room, "if you don't stop now, the only person I'm going to fuck will be you." He leaned in close enough for his breath to brush against the man's ear, his proximity an unspoken threat. "And believe me, when I say, it won't be pleasurable."

The words hung heavy in the air, and Azriel's massive wings shifted minutely, the only hint of eagerness for the violence they promised.

Devlon stepped forward, dark eyes gleaming. "Threatening my warriors will not be tolerated, Shadowsinger."

Azriel met his gaze. "Then tell your warriors to stay in line."

Devlon let out a low chuckle and shook his head. "You forget yourself. You are in my territory now - and outnumbered. Perhaps it would be wise if you stayed in line unless you wish to find out exactly how unpleasant we can make this for you."

At last, Azriel thought, Devlon's revealing his true nature. There had been something off about him the whole time.

Azriel snarled, "I do not need any backup to put dogs like you in their place."

"Bold words," Devlon purred, now circling Azriel. His warriors crowded in behind him, bristling with violence. "And just how do you plan to do that, Azriel?" he taunted, voice dripping with venomous mirth. "Stripped off your magic. "

What was he talking about?

Devlon's laughter echoed, bouncing off the stone walls. But the shadowsinger stood his ground, his expression unreadable, giving nothing away, as he probed his powers.

Yet there was nothing as he silently urged his magic to surge, to flood his veins with the familiar warmth. A void where whispers of darkness should have answered his call. The realization struck like a physical blow - FUCK!

Each sip he had taken in false goodwill was a nail in the coffin they hoped to bury him within. Bile rose in his throat.

Go, he told his shadows. Warn Cassian and the girls and get the weapons.

And like the obedient servants they were, they slipped away, seeping through the cracks and crevices of the tavern, bound for where the Valkyries rested.

"I don't need my powers to teach you the meaning of respect." Azriel declared, voice low. He may be stripped of his powers, yes, but under his skin, there was a beast waiting to be unleashed.

And the whole tavern felt the exact moment Azriel's control snapped.

His body surged forward, a storm of coiled muscle and lethal intent as he seized the first of the males—the one who'd mocked Gwyn, whose sneer still clung to the air like the stench of rot.

"Powerless?" Azriel's voice was dark silk, wrapping around the male's throat as his hands found the joint where wing met flesh, "Let's test that theory."

With a wrench that echoed through each and everyone's bones, the Illyrian's wing tore from his back, a bloom of crimson unfurling across the worn floorboards, and the male's agonizing scream seemed to shake the very foundations of the entire building.

"I don't need magic to bring you to your knees," he snarled, tossing the mangled appendage aside. It landed with a wet thud.

As if pulled by an invisible thread, another attacker lunged, only to be met by Azriel's fist. Bone crunched beneath the impact.

One after another, they came at him, their movements fueled by bravado and ale, but Azriel was a tempest, relentless and wild. He moved with a grace they could not match; his hands were instruments of retribution, delivering blow after crushing blow. Each contact was a promise etched in pain, a declaration of war against his own kind, a war against anyone who dared to threaten what he held dear.

Blows rained down on him from every side, but his rage was a shield of adamant. He ducked and spun, lashing out with lethal strikes. Bones crunched and splintered under his fists. Throats were crushed, ribs shattered, limbs bent in ways nature never intended. And each grunt and gasp of the males spurred him on further.

Even though Azriel's skin was slick with the sweat of exertion and probably bruised in many places, there was a terrifying calm in his golden-brown gaze.

No magic? What did it matter? He was the embodiment of horror, and in this moment of unleashed savagery, the very darkness seemed to bow before him.

Someone grabbed him again, trying to pin his arms, and Azriel whipped his head back. He felt his skull crack against the male's, and they both went down. Azriel was on his feet first, kicking out viciously, feeling the male's knee explode. A scream rang out, cut short by the heel of Azriel's hand smashing into his opponent's throat.

He waded through the carnage, knocking warriors aside, ripping and tearing at any who dared to grab him. Blood splattered his face and his hands, turning the world into a red haze. Someone swung a chair, catching him across the back, but Azriel only bared his teeth in a snarl.

The chair splintered against the wall, its wielder's arm twisting with it in a sickening crunch of bone.

On and on it went, violence begetting violence, the tavern floor slick with blood and strewn with broken bodies. But no matter how many he crushed, more seemed to rise in their place.

Exhaustion tugged at Azriel's limbs, his knuckles raw and aching, and still they came. But he would not back down. He would show them. Show them all. What it meant to face the Shadowsinger unleashed.

"Tiring?" one of the remaining Illyrians sneered, his voice a cruel mimicry of camaraderie. "Let's see how well you can protect your precious Valkyries now."

The words, meant to unnerve, only stoked the beast under Azriel's skin, ravenous for vengeance and fueled by an instinct as old as the stars themselves.

The man before him still laughed, a sound devoid of humor. It would be his last mistake. With a swiftness no one saw coming, Azriel lunged forward, the gap between predator and prey vanishing in the span of a heartbeat.

His massive hands closed around the Illyrian's shoulders, squeezing with a force that conveyed the certainty of death.

With a primal roar, Azriel viciously bit into the man's neck, drawing out his life essence in a savage display of dominance. The remaining Illyrians could only watch in horror as their comrade's struggles grew weaker, his life draining away in choked gasps and the sickening sounds of tearing tissue.

Azriel's eyes gleamed with a wild, bloodlust-filled rage as he dared them to challenge him, daring them to be his next victim.

The taste of warm blood flooded his senses, spilling down his throat and staining his teeth in a macabre red.

With a final brutal yank, Azriel ripped free, leaving behind nothing but shreds of torn flesh where the male's throat used to be. Blood dripped down his chin, dripping from his jaw like a waterfall of crimson that transformed him from a legendary warrior into a merciless demon.

The Illyrians froze at the sight of such brutality, their faces reflecting shock and disbelief as if they had never seen anything alike.

Azriel bared his teeth, stained red. "Who's next?"

None of them dared to make a move, so he himself lunged for another, grabbing a male by the throat and slamming him against the wall. He tried to fight back, clawing at Azriel's arm with fear in his eyes, but there was no use.

Azriel's voice came out as a growl. "What did you give me?" He spun around, searching for Devlon's figure. But it seemed he had vanished into thin air.

The Illyrian gasped, limbs twitching but Azriel only tightened his grip. "What. Did. You. Give. Me."

"P-poison," the male choked out. "To suppress your magic."

Azriel threw him aside, the Illyrian crumpling to the floor. His breathing was ragged as he scanned the room again. Everybody left watched him in horror as if staring at a monster.

Perhaps they were right.

He had to get to Cassian. To the girls. Before Devlon could reach them.

Fear coursed through his veins, propelling him forward as he sprinted from the tavern.

He raced through the camp, heart pounding. His shadows, who had returned the moment he had met the night air, flickered and twisted agitatedly around him.

He burst into Cassian's tent, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he scanned the interior for any sign of danger. His friends were huddled together, weapons drawn but thankfully unharmed. Relief flooded his body, a feeling so intense it was almost otherworldly.

They turned as one at his entrance, their expressions shifting from worry to joy at seeing him. But their relief quickly turned to horror as they took in his appearance. Gwyn's face drained of all color.

"By the Cauldron," Nesta breathed, eyes widening at the sight of Azriel, his mouth smeared with blood and gore. "Wh-what happened?" She stuttered, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her blade.

Azriel shook his head, fighting to catch his breath. "No time to explain. We need to leave. Now."

Cassian's brow contorted into a deep frown as he locked eyes with Azriel. The urgency in his friend's gaze was enough for him to understand that a thick cloud of dread loomed over them.

But it was too late to run now.

By the time they noticed the grey fog seeping through the small openings in the tent, it had already engulfed their minds, tearing at their consciousness and pulling them into darkness...

Chapter Text

Azriel's consciousness crept back to him sluggishly and unwillingly. The first thing he registered was the coppery taste that still coated his tongue like a layer of rust. Blood, he realized, as his senses slowly returned. He swallowed hard, trying to rid himself of the lingering metallic aftertaste.

The wind whispered through the trees above him, its breath cold and unforgiving on his skin, ruffling in his outstretched wings. Even with his eyes still closed, he could smell the earthy scent of pine needles and damp soil mixed with a lingering aroma of decay. A chill seeped into his bones from the hard surface beneath him, and he knew without opening his eyes that he was lying on forest floor.

As his golden-brown eyes fluttered open, the scene before him confirmed his suspicions. A canopy of leaves stretched overhead, filtering the sunlight that dappled the ground around him. Judging by the angle of the sun, it must have been around midday. What had happened?

Gingerly, Azriel pushed himself up off the ground, his limbs protesting as they supported his weight. He felt sticky, dried blood on his skin, a gruesome reminder of the massacre he'd committed in the tavern with Devlon's men just hours before. The memory flooded back: Devlon inviting him for a drink, claiming it was a gesture of goodwill; the ale had been spiked, stripping him off his magic, and the desperate sprint back to warn Cassian and the girls.

Azriel stretched his massive wings, the muscles aching from disuse. He inspected every inch for injuries, finding only minor scratches and bruises – nothing that would impede his search for his friends. But when he reached for Truthteller, his blade was gone.

Just as panic threatened to engulf him, his shadows swirled around him, whispering reassurances. They had taken the weapons and hidden them, just as he'd instructed the night before.

The shadows revealed that they had also secured Nesta's swords, Ataraxia and Gwydion. Grateful, Azriel strapped Truthteller back to his thigh and sheathed Ataraxia across his back. Gwydion, however, he left with the shadows; carrying it alongside Truthteller was too much, the two swords seeming to pull together like magnets.

He beat his wings, attempting to launch skyward, only to slam back down as if colliding with an invisible barrier. Some magic prevented him from being airborne. Frustration bubbled within him, but he refused to let it consume him. Instead, he called out for his friends from the forest floor.

"GWYN! EMERIE!" he yelled, his words echoing through the trees.

"NESTA! CASSIAN! "He strained his ears, hoping for any sign of them. But all that answered him was the rustling of leaves and the distant call of a bird.

He started walking, the shadows around him reaching out like tendrils, searching for any sign of his friends. They, too, seemed to grow anxious as the hours passed without success.

A tight knot formed in Azriel's chest, constricting his every breath as the weight of fear and helplessness settled upon him.

As Azriel moved deeper into the woods, he came upon a clearing. The sight that greeted him there made his blood run cold: a massive mountain loomed in the near distance, Ramiel.

"Fuck," he whispered, his voice choked with dread. It was early winter, far from the time when the Blood Rite should take place, and the area surrounding Ramiel should have been closed off. Yet here he was, standing at the foot of the mountain, a sinking feeling gnawing at his gut.

Devlon and his men must have somehow brought them here, leaving them to face the perils that haunted this place—perhaps hoping that the nocturnal monsters roaming these lands would do their dirty work for them.

He needed to find the others ... time was literally running out.

The sun dipped closer toward the horizon, casting elongated shadows that twisted and danced among the trees. Their eerie movements only served to heighten the sense of urgency that thrummed through Azriel's veins, urging him to move faster and search harder.

"Find them," he mentally commanded his shadows, sending them further out into the darkening world.

Still, they returned empty-handed every time.

Azriel approached a nearby river, kneeling down and cupping his hands to scoop the cool liquid to his lips.

And as he drank, he noticed how the blood from Devlon's men still clung to his face and hands. With a grimace, he scrubbed away the dried crimson stains, knowing that the monsters here would be attracted by the scent of it.

He couldn't afford that kind of attention, couldn't afford to become their next meal.

His shadows began to swirl around him in a frantic dance of agitation. Their movements growing more and more insistent, urging him to follow them as they darted through the trees, tugging at the edges of his consciousness.

Azriel hesitated for only a moment before giving chase, allowing himself to be led by the unerring instincts of his shadows. As he moved deeper into the forest, he could have sworn he heard the faintest hint of humming, a melody so delicate and ethereal that it was nearly lost amidst the rustling leaves and creaking branches.

He slowed his steps, straining to listen, and there it was again – the haunting music that seemed to tug at his very soul. A soft sigh escaped his lips as the scent of Gwyn and Nesta reached him, a heady blend of water lillies and wildflowers, that filled him with a relief so profound, it was nearly overwhelming.

"Finally," he whispered, his heart soaring as he pushed through the underbrush to get to them.

Gwyn's heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Azriel emerging from between the trees, his dark hair framing those unreadable eyes that now seemed to shine with relief. The tension that had wound tight within her chest began to unravel, and without a second thought, she darted toward him.

As if sensing her intentions, Azriel opened his arms just in time for Gwyn to practically fly into them, her momentum carrying them both in a tight embrace. She clung to him fiercely, barely managing to suppress a sob as Nesta joined them and Azriel's strong arms now encircled them both. His sheer size allowing him to hold two people close against him without a problem.

"Thank the Mother," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to each of their heads in turn. Gwyn drank in his scent, her senses keenly aware of the lingering trace of blood from the night before - but it wasn't his and that was all that had mattered.

The forest's shadows grew longer as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting an eerie glow on the three figures huddled together. Gwyn shivered slightly in her nightclothes, the chill of the evening air creeping through the thin fabric.

"Are either of you injured?" Azriel asked, concern etched on his face as he looked at Gwyn and Nesta. His gaze lingered on Gwyn for a moment longer, scanning her up and down with such intensity that she had to swallow hard.

"We're fine," Nesta replied glumly. "Have you seen Cassian or Emerie?"

Azriel shook his head, his expression somber. "No." His eyes flicked towards the towering mountain in the distance . "We're at the bottom of Ramiel."

"We know," Gwyn replied, her voice barely audible as she gazed at him, her eyes full of unspoken questions and fears.

Azriel released them with a bitter unease in his chest. "We must take shelter before the night falls. "

They came upon a small cave, nestled between two enormous roots of an ancient tree. It was just large enough to accommodate the three of them, providing some protection from the creatures that roamed the forest. They exchanged wary looks, knowing they had little choice but to make do with what was available.

"Let's get inside," Azriel suggested, his voice barely above a whisper. "We need to stay hidden and quiet."

Nodding in agreement, Gwyn and Nesta followed him into the cramped space, their night clothes rustling softly against the damp earth. The air inside was cool and heavy, carrying the scent of damp soil and decaying leaves.

Deciding against lighting a fire to avoid attracting unwanted attention, they huddled together for warmth, their shivering forms pressed close. No one dared to talk.

The silence was soon broken by a blood-curdling scream echoing through the forest. Nesta's eyes widened in terror, her breath hitching at the unmistakable sound of her mate in severe pain.

"Cassian!" she cried out, anguish lacing her voice.

In an instant, the three of them were on their feet, branches whipping past them as they ran towards the source of the harrowing screams.

As they raced through the darkening forest, the cacophony of noises grew louder – monstrous grunts, Emerie's determined shouting, and Cassian's agonized cries all melding into a terrible symphony.

When they finally arrived, they found a scene straight out of a nightmare. Cassian lay on the ground, blood pouring from multiple wounds as a monster lay slain beside him.

Another beast towered over him, its scales shimmering with an oily sheen in the fading light. Its eyes were sunken and black like endless voids, and its mouth lined with rows of razor-sharp teeth that gleamed with fresh blood. Spines jutted out haphazardly from its back, while its long, sinewy tail whipped through the air with lethal precision.

Emerie straddled the monster's back, wielding a stone like a club, repeatedly striking the creature's head in a desperate attempt to fend off its relentless assault on Cassian.

Without missing a beat, Azriel threw Gwydion to Nesta and drew Ataraxia, the lethal blade glinting menacingly in the moonlight. With a feral snarl, he charged at the monster from behind, his powerful wings propelling him forward like a deadly shadow.

"Get Cassian out of here!" he shouted to Nesta, who was already sprinting toward her mate, tears streaming down her face.

"Don't you dare," Nesta snarled, dropping to her knees beside him. She grabbed his face between her hands.

"You will not die here, do you understand me?"

Cassian's eyes fluttered open, softening at the sight of her. "Wouldn't dream of it, sweetheart."

Azriel engaged the beast in battle, the clash of steel against bone ringing out through the forest. Shadows writhed around him, their movements mirroring his own as they lunged and slashed at the monster. The creature snarled and snapped at Azriel, but it was no match for the shadowsinger's skill and ferocity.

With a final, decisive blow, Azriel drove Ataraxia deep into the monster's skull, its death cry echoing through the night.

As the beast crumpled to the ground, he hurried over to Emerie, helping her off the fallen creature and checking her for any injuries.

"Are you alright?" he asked, his voice gentle yet laced with urgency.

Emerie nodded, her breath coming in ragged gasps. "I'm fine."

Gwyn's sharp ears caught the sound of more monsters approaching, their guttural growls growing louder by the second. Without hesitation, she turned to Azriel.

"Give me Truthteller," she demanded, her voice steady despite the fear that coiled in her gut.

He frowned at her request, but handed the weapon over nonetheless. Gwyn sliced open her left hand without a moment's pause, then returned Truthteller to Azriel.

His eyes widened in horror, and Emerie's breath hitched at the sight of Gwyn's blood.

"What are you doing?" Azriel asked, his voice taut with fear.

"Trust me," Gwyn said, her eyes shining with determination. "I'll distract them, lead them on a false trail. I have done this before during the Blood Rite. You need to get Cassian to safety."

Azriel hesitated, torn between his instinct to protect Gwyn and the urgency of their situation. But the rustling of the bushes grew louder, and Gwyn urged them on with a fierce look in her eyes. With a nod, they moved quickly, carrying the injured Cassian away from the approaching danger.

As Gwyn set off on her mission, she hoped that her plan would work again, and that they could all make it out of this nightmare alive. The weight of their lives rested on her shoulders, but she refused to let fear hold her back. Her determination to safe was stronger, SHE was stronger and she would fight for her friends until her very last breath.

She inhaled deeply, preparing herself for what was to come. Then, with practiced ease, she let her voice soar in a haunting melody that echoed through the air.

During the Rite, she sang to soothe her fear and nerves.

However, in doing so, she had stumbled upon a crucial discovery.

The monsters that were normally drawn to blood now followed Gwyn's enchanting song, entranced by the mesmerizing melody that filled the air.

They stumbled after her, their grotesque forms and vicious snarls a stark contrast to Gwyn's delicate beauty, which seemed to only be illuminated by the darkness of the night.

As Gwyn walked, she carefully smeared her own blood on tree trunks and branches, creating a false trail for the creatures that would follow after. Her hand throbbed with pain, but she gritted her teeth and pushed forward.

She reached the river, the cold water lapping at her feet as she waded in, her voice never faltering. The chilling embrace of the current made her shiver, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins fueled her to keep going.

Gwyn swam across the river, her powerful strokes cutting through the water, and the monsters, still under her spell, followed her without hesitation.

On reaching the opposite bank, Gwyn dragged herself out of the water, her body trembling from the cold and exhaustion. She turned back to look at the river, her heart pounding in anticipation. Had her plan worked?

To her relief, she saw the monsters floundering helplessly in the river. They had forgotten—or perhaps never known—that they couldn't swim. One by one, they disappeared beneath the waves, dragged down by the relentless pull of the current.

-

After Cassian was out of danger's way, tugged away in a shelter with the girls, Azriel let his shadows guide him towards the direction they had sensed Gwyn last.

He reached the edge of the river, but there was no trace of her or the creatures for that matter.

He scanned the surface of the water for any signs of movement or her whereabouts, but found none. The river flowed as it always did, swift and untamed.

Had she… ? Did the monsters…?

Azriel's heart dropped at the thought, until he heard a sound that demanded his full attention. Something was breaking through the surface of the water. A head! It was a person! It was Gwyn!

The sight of her filled him with such relief that he forgot to breathe for a moment.

Gwyn's arms sliced through the water as she swam towards the riverbank. Azriel stood at the edge, his strong hands reaching out to help her climb out. As she emerged from the water, her white nightgown clung to her body, revealing the curves and contours beneath.

But Azriel's attention was not on her wet form, but rather on her face. His eyes were filled with admiration for the brave and quick-thinking woman who had just saved their group. With a clever diversion, she had lured the creatures away from Cassian and into the water, successfully fending them off without any harm done.

"How is Cassian?" Gwyn asked breathlessly as she stood before him, shivering from the head to toe.

"His left wing is torn, and one of them managed to take a chunk out of his side," Azriel replied, concern etched on his features. Gwyn's eyes widened at the description. "But he's alive. It seems like only muscle was taken and no organs were damaged."

They made their way back to the cave, where Emerie and Nesta had now built a fire. Inside, Cassian was lying with his head in Nesta's lap while she tenderly ran her fingers through his hair.

Gwyn's heart clenched as she watched Nesta struggle to keep a brave façade for her mate.

Emerie, too, was injured; a deep gash marred her otherwise smooth thigh, the result of a cruel swipe from the monster's vicious tail.

Oh, what a mess this was.

Azriel approached Emerie with caution, stressing the importance of closing the wound to stop bleeding and prevent infection.

Emerie nodded in agreement, and he proceeded to explain each step in meticulous detail, while holding Atharaxia over the roaring flames.

Gwyn moved closer and extended her hand to her friend, who accepted it gratefully.

Azriel glanced at Emerie once more, seeking her confirmation before carefully pressing the heated iron onto the wound, melting the skin together to seal it shut.

The acrid smell of singed flesh filled their nostrils, while Emerie clamped her mouth shut to suppress any screams. But the anguished expression etched onto her features spoke volumes. The burning sensation crept through every nerve in her body, like a relentless fire consuming her from within.

As she struggled to hold back the hot, stinging tears, she clenched her jaw and tightened her grip on Gwyn's hand, the pressure causing her knuckles to pale. But Gwyn did not wince. No, she stayed by her side, offering all her support.

They agreed to make their way towards Ramiel as soon as the sun rose, hoping that once they reached its peak, the Onyx stone would transport them back home.

And so the following morning, they began their trek up, Cassian carefully supported between Nesta and Azriel.

They paused briefly at a nearby stream, drinking and using the water to clean his injuries. Despite his wounds healing at a sluggish pace, he was still conscious for the time being.

And as the sun set once more, they began looking for a shelter.

The one they found though was significantly smaller than the one from last night, essentially a narrow gap in the side of the mountain itself, not big enough to foster them all.

Gwyn and Azriel settled in front of the entrance, watching the moon cast a silvery glow over the area in front of them.

"I hope Cassian will be alright…" Gwyn mumbled, her voice barely audible as she wrapped her arms around herself, trying to ward off the cold that seeped into her thin clothes.

Azriel sighed, his golden-brown eyes clouded with concern. "I've seen him endure worse, but he will need a healer soon." He glanced at Gwyn, taking in her shivering form. "You're freezing, Gwyn. You should go inside."

Gwyn shook her head, her long hair cascading in loose waves around her face. Cassian was injured and Nesta couldn't leave his side, and Emerie was also wounded. Gwyn, however, was ok. At least in the physical sense, emotionally, was an entirely different story.

"There is not enough room. I'm fine out here," she said, her voice firm despite her trembling lips.

After a moment of silence, Gwyn mustered up the courage to voice out the thought that had been gnawing at her for hours. "Will reaching the top of the mountain truly bring us back?" she asked quietly. "Since it's not the time of the Blood Rite."

Azriel let out a heavy sigh, running his scarred hand through his dark locks.

"There's no way to know unless we try. But I share your concern."

They fell into silence again, each lost in their own thoughts and worries about what lay ahead.

Gwyn's mind raced as she considered how long it might take for Rhysand to realize they were missing and come to their rescue. She shared her fears with Azriel, who furrowed his brow in deep thought before slowly responding, "I hope it won't be too long, but finding us might be more challenging than realizing we are missing."

His piercing gaze remained fixed on her, unblinking and unwavering. "Are you scared?" he asked her, his voice low and gentle.

Gwyn's heart fluttered in her chest as she considered his question. "Yes," she truthfully admitted, "but not for myself." Her eyes filled with tears. "I can't bear the thought of losing someone I love again."

Azriel's gaze, normally sharp and guarded, softened at her words. Tentatively he reached out to take her trembling hand in his own, offering silent comfort and understanding. His warmth penetrated through the chill in her skin. She closed her eyes and reveled in the sensation, but it was all too fleeting as he released her again.

"I know that feeling, Gwyn."

He studied her for a moment and then made an unexpected offer. "If you're cold, I can try to warm you up," he said, adding awkwardly, "without any ulterior motives, of course."

A subtle flush of pink bloomed across Gwyn's cheeks as she weighed his proposition. She couldn't quite decipher what 'warming her up' entailed, but she had a strong inkling it involved being closer to him than she ever was.

A voice in the back of her mind warned her that this could be their final chance to ever be this close. If the stone failed to bring them back... if the lurking monsters caught them before Rhysand did...

But Gwyn pushed all that away, not wanting to dwell on what could go wrong in this moment.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm her fluttering heart and hazy thoughts.

Gingerly, Gwyn rose to her feet and approached Azriel.

The chilly air caused her breath to escape in small, visible puffs, while the moonlight bathed them both in a soft glow, casting shadows that danced with Azriel's own.

Coming to a stop next to him, Gwyn nervously tried to figure out her next move. Azriel noticed her hesitation and reached out his hand, inviting her closer with a gentle expression on his face.

"Come here," he said softly, almost afraid of scaring her away.

Gwyn took his hand, and he guided her to stand between his powerful thighs and slowly pulled her down. She settled there with her back against his broad chest.

He folded his legs on either side of her, providing a sense of enclosure, making it feel like being enveloped in a warm embrace. Although his hands were not touching her.

"Is this any better?" he asked quietly, his warm breath ghosting across her neck.

Gwyn felt a chill run through her body, but this time it was not from the cold. It was a different sort of sensation - the intense intimacy of their position, the gentle brush of his warm breath against her skin.

"Yes," she managed to reply, her cheeks flushing with a blush she was grateful he couldn't see. "Much better."

His shadows seemed to curl protectively around them, adding their warmth to the cocoon they created.

Gwyn's gaze involuntarily drifted to Azriel's hands, which dangled casually from his knees. The veins in his large, scarred fingers stood out against the tanned skin. She could see the tension in them, muscles strained and flexed, as if he was holding back and he probably was.

It was something admirable, really, how he so mindfully respected her boundaries. But her boundaries had shifted - they had for a while with him - and right now, in this moment, all she longed for was to feel those hands wrap tightly around her.

So, without warning, Gwyn reached for Azriel's hands, pulling them towards her and held them close to her midsection.

Behind her, Azriel froze, but he said nothing.

Gently, Gwyn traced a finger along the ridged scars, her touch light as a feather. But as Azriel sucked in a sharp breath, she stopped, worried she had hurt him somehow, worried she had crossed a line. And when he remained silent, Gwyn took it as a sign of discomfort, and released them all together.

After a moment though, Azriel raised his palms in front of her, wordlessly inviting Gwyn to take them again. Her heart skipped a beat.

She took the delicate, embossed invitation and interlocked their fingers properly this time, with a gentle but firm grip.

The warmth of his hands spread through hers. She did not miss the slight curl of his fingers and the subtle quiver in his wrists; betraying his own nerves. And somehow she could have sworn he had stopped breathing entirely behind her.

Perhaps he wasn't fond of physical touch or intimacy himself, but he had offered, right?

His hands were a lot bigger than hers. They were rough, and hard in some places, yet soft and warm in others; much like the rest of him.

Her thumb brushed over the most prominent scar, a deep gouge across his knuckles. "Who did this to you?" she asked softly, unable to suppress the curiosity and concern in her voice.

Another moment of silence passed before Azriel began to recount the story of his stepbrothers and his father's cell.

As Gwyn listened, she could feel the weight of his memories pressing down on them both, leaving her trembling as tears welled up in her eyes. She tried to hold them back, but the dam broke, and silent sobs wracked her body.

Azriel's soft voice reached out, attempting to comfort her, "Shh, don't cry."

But her heart ached too much for the child he had been – for all the suffering he had endured.

"No child should have to go through anything like that," she whispered between her sobs.

Feeling her anguish, Azriel gently raised their clasped hands to her face and cupped her chin. He turned her head slightly to the side, his expression soft and kind as he took in her tear-streaked cheeks.

"And no one should have to endure what you had to either," he murmured, wrapping his arms around her, holding her even closer.

"Are your brothers still alive?" Gwyn asked after a while, curiosity mingling with the lingering traces of her earlier sorrow.

Azriel let out a deep laugh, the sound rumbling through his chest and warming the space between them. "Why do you want to know?"

Gwyn turned her head again, meeting Azriel's gaze with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine. In the dim light, her eyes were a sea of emotions – anger, determination, and something he couldn't quite place.

She stared at him openly, her voice unwavering as she declared, "Maybe I'd like to make them pay."

His laughter died down, replaced by a mixture of surprise and an unidentifiable warmth.

No one had ever offered him such a gesture before.

He was usually the one seeking revenge for others, never the other way around.

Even though the idea of Gwyn avenging him was absurd, and he would never allow her near his brothers, her words struck a chord in his heart.

This woman, who had overcome her own traumas and came out stronger, now offered to seek justice on his behalf… Azriel's body shuddered involuntarily.

"Your courage is unmatched, Gwyn," he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But I wouldn't let you do that for me. They're dangerous, and I can't bear … "but he didn't finish that sentence.

Gwyn leaned back into him, snuggling closer under his chin, seeking solace in their shared understanding of pain and healing. And Azriel held her close, closer than he had ever held anyone before.

"Sometimes I think the world is just cruel," Gwyn confessed, her voice barely audible as she rested against Azriel. "But when I think about you, Ness, Emerie and Cassian... there is hope. So much hope. "

Azriel's breath tickled her ear as he whispered, "You give me hope too, Gwyn."

And for a moment, their hearts beat in tandem.

Chapter Text

The peak of Ramiel rose before them, clawing at the crimson sky. Sweat dripped down Azriel's face as he carried Cassian's body up the steep incline. Somewhere along the way, his brother had lost consciousness, and his breathing had become worryingly shallow.

Azriel glanced at the others. Nesta's eyes were wide with fear, fixed on Cassian's ashen face. With a trembling hand, she brushed a damp strand of hair from his forehead. The rest of the group trudged onward, faces drawn and exhausted.

"Just a little further," Azriel gritted out. His own muscles were burning but they needed to make it. 

His shadows twisted anxiously around him as the sun sank towards the distant hills, bleeding the last of its light across the bleak landscape. He knew they should find shelter soon before the horrors of the night descended.

However, Cassian was not in a state to prolong this for much longer. If they stopped for the night …

Azriel tightened his jaw. No, he would not lose him. Not like this. Not because of Devlon and his fucking men.

They had already reached the last quarter of the mountain. They just had to keep going now.

Azriel's wings were spread out wide, balancing out Cassian's additional weight, which seemed to grow heavier with each step. He stopped for a moment to haul him higher. Cassian's wings were dragging limply on the floor and it pained him deeply to watch.

Gwyn's eyes found his, mirroring the same worry that surely filled his own. In a silent exchange, she nodded in understanding. They had to move on. Azriel returned the gesture.

The thought of this family, that had become everything to him, that was worth enduring any hardship for, gave him a renewed determination to push through. He would carry Cassian to the ends of the world if he had to. And his shadows swirled in agreement, pulsing with relentless purpose in return.

All of a sudden a gut wrechching roar split the air, far too close for comfort.

The women froze, eyes darting warily into the gathering gloom. Nesta's hand instinctively went to the hilt of her sword.

"They've caught our scent." Azriel bit out.

"Then we fight" Emerie turned to Gwyn, who agreed with a gesture.

But Azriel's tone brook no argument, "No!" 

Glowing eyes now peered from the rising darkness and soon enough more snarls echoed through the rocks.

Azriel clenched his jaw, determination hardening his gaze. "You three take Cassian and move forward," he ordered. There was no time to waste.

And before anyone could protest, he was sliding Cassian's limp form off his shoulder. Gwyn was there instantly, wrapping one of the big Illyrian's arms over her slender shoulders, while Nesta took Cassian's other side, supporting his weight between her and Gwyn.

"Keep going," he commanded, his voice sharp. "Get him to the top." Azriel drew Ataraxia from his back and turned towards the threat, the blade glinting dangerously. "I'll hold them off. Go," he growled. "Now!"

If he had looked back as they hauled Cassian away, he would have seen Gwyn's terrified expression and her reluctance to listen to his command.

Monsters poured from their hidden spots, eyes glowing with hunger and Azriel bared his teeth in a feral grin.

"Come on then," he called out. "Let's see if you are more of a challenge than the ones I have already killed."

The first beast seemingly took it personal and leaped at him, all teeth and claws, but Azriel was faster. With a single sweep of his blade, he cut it down. Another one emerged, circling him. But again he was faster. And when he stabbed into the heart, foul ichor spattered everywhere.

More followed, which he quickly brought down until he was surrounded by a revolting mass of carcasses.

Azriel's muscles tensed, ready for the next wave of attacks. From the corner of his eye, he saw Gwyn and Nesta carry Cassian's limp body higher up the rocky slope.

They had to make it. There could not be any other outcome. He would not let anything happen to them. He would give anything to ensure their safety. Even his life.

As if to test that theory, two more creatures charged toward Azriel at the same time.

The shadows responded instantly, lashing out with deadly precision. They struck like lightning, impaling and tearing through flesh with unnatural speed and strength. Azriel's wings beat furiously behind him, giving him added agility, even though he still could not fly.

And then they seemed to come from all sides. As if they were multiplying. There was simply no end to the attacks, no pause. And Azriel felt his muscles begin to tire. Began to feel the weight of his own exhaustion.

Still, he fought on. He had to give them as much time as he could.

He spun, his blade singing as it sliced through the air and found its mark in wet flesh.

But the more fell, the more appeared and clambered over the bodies of the dead, crazed with bloodlust. They were going to overwhelm him through sheer numbers.

Azriel's chest heaved as he searched for reserves of strength. But his movements were slowing, and the monsters seemed to sense it.

And soon enough, sharp teeth grazed his shoulder.

Azriel snarled in pain. He spun, slicing the creature's head from its body with a clean cut but another beast was there in an instant. He staggered back as a set of claws raked across his chest, shredding through his leathers, apparently right into the mouth of another one.

A guttural cry escaped his lips as another set of razor-sharp teeth sunk deep into his flesh. His muscles coiled and trembled with the effort as he frantically probed for his powers, but they remained elusive. His shadows were the ones who pulled the monster off of him, saving him this time.

Panting, Azriel clutched his ravaged arm. Blood, slick and hot, poured down his skin. He would not make it for much longer. Not like this. His sword arm was wrecked.

Beasts circled around him, their eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure, savoring his pain and exhaustion. Maybe this was just destiny's humor, for him to lose his life here, like this.

But he wouldn't complain, not when it meant the others survived.

So he braced himself for the end, gripping Atharaxia tightly with his left hand. If this was his final stand, he would face it with honor.

The beasts lunged as one, mouths gaping open to reveal rows of serrated teeth and Azriel tried to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable pain of them penetrating and ripping through his flesh. One last time he swung his blade in a wide arc and the steel sang as it sheared through matted fur and flesh.

And then one more picture crossed his mind. Cassian, Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. A smile as bright as the sun.

He would sell his life dearly to provide them a chance to survive this night.

-

Gwyn's breaths came in ragged now as she struggled up the steep incline, Cassian's weight pressing heavily on her left shoulder. Every step she took was a battle, her muscles screaming in protest and her heart pounding like a war drum within her chest. But it wasn't the physical exertion that pained her most; Azriel was alone down there, defending their lives.

Gwyn couldn't bear to think about what might happen to him as they climbed higher and higher. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime, each minute an eternity.

She paused on the trail, gasping for air but it did not ease this suffocating feeling. She glanced back down the mountainside, where the sounds of battle was echoing. Cassian stirred weakly, mumbling something incoherent. She knew she had to keep going, had to get him to safety. But why did it feel like she was giving up one of them for the other.

And then she thought of the tattoo she now bore on her arm: two shadows, one white and one dark, dancing with each other. The bargain he had made with her - for her, so she would have his protection.

How could she leave him now? How could she deny him, what he had offered her?

Her mind raced with voices of worries and fears. Yet the loudest was the one that screamed to turn around.

He could be dying down there - alone. The image tugged so violently at her soul that she could not ignore it any longer.

And then a deafening roar reverberating through the pitch-black abyss. It was the final push Gwyn needed to solidify her decision.

"Emerie!!!" she called out, the urgency in her tone palpable. "Quick, take Cassian. I...I have to help Azriel."

She met Nesta's gaze, silently pleading for her understanding. "He won't last for much longer."

Nesta's face was etched with pain, but Gwyn refused to back down. "You had your chance to protect us in the blood rite," she reminded her friend, voice firm despite the fear that threatened to choke her. "Now it's my turn."

Grudgingly, Nesta nodded, her eyes glittering with tears as she reached out and pressed Gwydion into Gwyn's hand.

The blade seemed to hum in anticipation.

"Take it," Nesta said, her voice broke. "It will protect you."

Gwyn reverently accepted the legendary sword, meeting Nesta's worried gaze.

"I'll bring it back safely," she promised. Although she knew not if she could keep that promise.

Nesta cupped her cheek tenderly. "Bring yourself back safely. That's all I care about."

They shared a look of understanding, and then Gwyn turned and raced into the dark below.

She found him surrounded by a mass of misshapen beasts, seemingly right in time. He was on his knees. Fresh wounds covered his body as he was struggling to fight off the monsters swarming him.

Gwyn launched herself into the fray without a moment of hesitation. The creatures turned at the new threat, giving their target a moment's respite.

When Azriel realized what had taken their attention, his face contorted in pure terror.

"Gwyn! Nooo!" he shouted hoarsely.

But she did not respond; she was entirely too focused on one thing and one thing alone.

With deadly grace, she spun and slashed, felling one monster after another.

She fought with a ferocity that Azriel had never seen.

He had trained her well, but to see her in actual battle was something else.

He struggled to his feet, wincing at the deep gashes that crisscrossed his body. As his strength rallied, he felt the familiar caress of his shadows return.

"You need to get out of here," Azriel shouted, even as he fought on with renewed vigor.

Finally she acknowledged him, if only to shoot him a fierce look. "I'm not leaving you."

And his shadows, the little traitors, curled at her words.

He couldn't blame them though. His own heart ached at her stubbornness.

He took a deep breath. He was fucking exhausted, but somehow Gwyn's nearness had revitalized him.

They moved in tandem. Their blades slicing and stabbing in perfect sync. Gwyn's bright hair whipped behind her as she spun, cleaving through torsos and limbs. Azriel's shadows unfurled like dark wings, shredding flesh from bone.

He had become sluggish and labored though and not long after a claw managed to reach the already open wound on his arm.

His desperate cry echoed through the dark forest, a haunting sound that made Gwyn spun to him in an instant.

Seeing him so in pain overwhelmed her. A guttural, earth-shattering sound that seemed to shake the very ground left her and Gwydion blazed to life in her hands, burning so bright it was almost blinding. The monsters surrounding them shrieked and recoiled.

Gwyn stalked forward, her eyes blazing, hair whipping around her like flames.

Azriel's own eyes widened in surprise. He could only recall one other time he had seen Gwydion emanate a similar light: when the girl from Midgard wielded it.

As if sensing his thoughts, Gwyn turned to him, cheeks flushed from exertion. "Do you see that too?" she asked breathlessly.

Azriel nodded slowly, mind racing. His shadows swirled in agitation.

Who the hell was she?

Azriel could only stare in awe as Gwyn advanced upon the cowering monsters. He had never seen her like this, so full of righteous fury and power.

As she neared him, her expression visibly softened. "You are badly injured," she said, reaching towards him. "We'll have to get you out of here."

Azriel blinked, looking down at himself. He had nearly forgotten about his injuries in the wake of her astonishing display.

"I'll live," he dismissed with a shake of his head, although he couldn't know that for sure.

Gwyn's eyes narrowed, clearly seeing through his bravado. But before she could press him further, the monsters stirred once more, emboldened by the now dimming light.

Azriel moved on instinct, wings flaring as he almost flew before Gwyn. He would not let these foul things lay one claw on her. Shadows writhed in anticipation, hungry for violence.

Gwyn placed a gentle hand on Azriel's shoulder, stopping him. "NO."

"You, stay behind me," he growled, not taking his eyes off the advancing creatures.

But Gwyn was already moving. With swift grace, she darted past Azriel.

"We fight together," she declared.

And side by side, the Shadowsinger and Valkyrie met another wave.

For every monster they took down, at least one new one emerged.

And soon they were outnumbered again.

The battle was becoming increasingly chaotic and desperate.

Gwyn stumbled back as a particularly large creature lunged at her. Azriel lunged forward, wings spread wide to shield her from the attack. But before he could reach her, Gwydion lit up with brilliant light once more. With a fierce cry, she thrusted it towards the creature. A blinding burst of energy erupted what seemed to come more from her palms than the blade this time. The monster shrieked and writhed, falling to the ground in pieces.

Azriel blinked away spots from his vision as he landed beside Gwyn. They were both panting heavily by now.

"We can't keep doing this forever," he said over his shoulder.

"We only have to do it till sunrise," she retorted between breaths.

Azriel couldn't help but grin in response. Despite the dire situation, he couldn't deny that fighting alongside Gwyn was exhilarating.

"Gwydion, " Gwyn began, "its pulling me towards you."

His eyes fixed on the Starsword, still glowing in her hand - keeping the monsters at a safe distance for now.

"No, not towards me. It reacts to Truthteller," he said firmly. After a short moment of consideration, Azriel pulled her closer. "Come here," he breathed, his voice low and deep. "I want to try something."

Although it was the absolute wrong time to feel flustered, Gwyn felt a rush of electricity run through her at his action.

But then Azriel unsheathed Truthteller and held it out to her. The dagger equally quivered with magic equally, yet instead of emitting a bright glow, it was surrounded by a swirling mist of midnight black smoke.

"See. Our weapons are connected," Azriel stated cooly, as if he had not just shaken Gwyn's whole world with one touch. "That's why I stole the books," he claimed, watching the blades closely. "I wanted to understand their powers, how they can be combined and unleashed," he confessed.

"How then?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I haven't figured it out yet," he admitted. "But it appears you have woken Gwydion and Truthteller in the process."

Gwyn only stared at the glowing sword in her hand, her mind reeling. "But why me? I'm no one special."

Azriel's intense gaze locked with hers. "I don't believe that for one second," he stated firmly.

"There was only one other time…" Azriel paused, pinching the bridge of his nose as if struggling with his following words - and indeed, he couldn't believe he was about to reveal this information to her - "That Truthteller has reacted to me with magic."

Gwyn leaned in closer, hanging onto every word as she asked eagerly, "When?"

Azriel hesitated before finally answering. "When I sang."

Gwyn swallowed hard, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what he was saying.

"Should I... should we…" she trailed off, her gaze fixed on the two glinting blades that thrummed with energy. "Should we try?"

Azriel nodded, his gaze never leaving Gwyn. It was worth a shot. What did they have to lose?

He pushed himself off the ground and extended back the hand of his un-injured arm towards Gwyn.

The creatures around them snarled but did not dare to move any closer, not when the magic of the blades surrounded them.

It was now or never. They had to make their move before it dissipated.

Gwyn took a deep breath, squaring her shoulders as if bracing herself. Then she began to sing; her pure soprano voice echoed off the surrounding trees and filled the clearing with its ethereal beauty.

Azriel watched in awe as her glowing blade pulsed with each note, creating an otherworldly symphony of light and sound. And he could have sworn it wasn't just Gwydion that lit up, but her whole being seemed to radiate from within.

Her song soared higher and higher, filling the night with its melodic power. And then Azriel joined in, his rich baritone voice blending perfectly with Gwyn's. As their voices intertwined, Truthteller seemed to shroud itself in dark shadows, its energy complementing Gwyn's song like a tempestuous storm.

The song continued to rise in intensity, pulsing with the power of their combined magic. Azriel and Gwyn's voices intertwined seamlessly, filling the clearing with their enchanting harmony.

The blades appeared to feed off their song as dark and white sparks whirled around them in a chaotic dance, finding each other and forming a visible bond.

Azriel gripped Truthteller tightly; the weight of the blade somehow doubled in his hand.

The creatures surrounding them cowered and backed away, sensing the immense power before them.

"What now?" Gwyn asked, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her heart.

"Keep singing," Azriel urged, his voice strained as he fought to maintain control. "We can't let the magic fade."

"But how do we release it?" Her voice was filled with desperation, and Azriel understood the urgency of her question.

The amalgamation of these powerful forces was starting to become overwhelming, and they needed to find a way to unleash it before it consumed them both.

He could only think of one thing: He gripped his dagger tightly and plunged it into the soft ground. Gwyn watched as the blade sunk deep into the earth, sending shockwaves through the soil and causing the ground beneath their feet to tremble. She mimicked his action.

A tremor rippled through the air, shaking the very foundations of the world around them as the full magic within Gwydion and Truthteller was brought upon Ramiel.

The ground buckled and heaved beneath them, throwing both Gwyn and Azriel off balance as they struggled to maintain their footing. Azriel's wings flared wide, shielding Gwyn from the worst of the debris as the quake intensified, sending cracks spiderwebbing across the once-solid terrain.

Together, they stood at the epicenter of a storm of their own making, a force of nature that defied explanation.

A brilliant flash erupted from the points of impact.

Light and darkness dancing together, weaving between the frozen creatures and wrapping them in an ethereal cocoon.

Gwyn was in disbelief as she witnessed a startling transformation happening right before her very eyes.

The ferocious beasts, with their gnarled claws and sharp teeth, were now morphing into docile creatures—fluffy-tailed rabbits hopping innocently through the vibrant undergrowth, birds with colorful feathers flitting fearlessly from branch to branch, and insects buzzing contentedly in their newfound paradise.

The landscape also seemed to come to life again, with lush plants sprouting where there had once been nothing but desolation. The dread that had pervaded the area had dissipated, replaced by a calm and serene atmosphere.

"What is happening?" Azriel asked, utterly flabbergasted.

"I... I'm not sure," Gwyn said hesitantly, her mind racing with possibilities and questions.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of what they had done – or perhaps undone – settling upon them. But then Gwyn, ever defiant in the face of uncertainty, squared her shoulders and met Azriel's gaze with a fierce determination that burned like fire in her veins. "Whatever it is, we should leave as long as we can."

She turned to him fully and took in his injuries. His wings were bloodied, and he had multiple gashes along his arms and torso. Though he tried to hide it, she could tell how bad it was. "You need a healer."

Azriel looked like he wanted to protest, but one stern look from Gwyn had him nodding in acquiescence. She was right - he needed medical attention, and there was no use arguing about it.

So they made their way up the steep path leading to the peak of this ancient mountain.

Azriel struggled and Gwyn noticed.

"Let me help you," she said, moving to support some of his weight.

Reluctantly, he allowed her to wrap an arm around his waist, taking some of the pressure off his battered body. As they continued the climb, Azriel found himself leaning into her more, savoring her strength and warmth beside him.

His mind was still reeling from what had just occurred down there, betwenn them - the seamless merging of their magic, the beauty and power of it all. He couldn't recall experiencing anything quite like it before.

He looked at Gwyn, the priestess, his trainee, his friend. But she was so much more than just that, wasn't she?

"Thank you," he said softly. "For coming after me, for helping me."

Gwyn smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "Anytime."

But when he continued to stare, she paused. "Something wrong with me? Have I grown horns?"

Azriel shook his head, swallowing the emotions he did not know how to voice. "I just... what you did..."

A blush crept up Gwyn's cheeks. "It was the blades," she said, trying to downplay her role.

"No," Azriel insisted softly. "It was you."

Embarrassment took hold of her, unsure of how to handle such a compliment. "If it was anything, it was both of us," she finally said.

They shared a tender smile but were both aware that their connection had shifted.

However, there was no time to explore it right now.

Instead, they refocused on the task at hand: the top.

Gwyn's breath came in pants as they climbed, her muscles burning with exertion.

As they neared the top, the air grew thinner and colder. Gwyn's lungs ached, but she pushed on through sheer force of will, ignoring the trembling in her limbs.

"We can stop—" Azriel began.

"No," Gwyn gasped out. "We're too close."

He gazed down at her, concern and something like admiration warring in his eyes. "Spoken like a true Carynthian."

Even exhausted and oxygen-deprived, she remained determined and focused on their goal of reaching the others. It was one of the things he lo- appreciated most about her, her unyielding spirit.

As they crested the rocky peak, Azriel and Gwyn both sucked in a sharp breath at the sight that greeted them: Both girls were breathlessly huddled over Cassian's motionless form.

Nesta's head jerked up at their approach, eyes comprehensive with relief. "Thank the Mother, you made it."

Emerie's eyes were wide as she asked, "What happened down there?"

Azriel and Gwyn exchanged a look. "Long story," he finally said.

Gwyn carefully rearranged her arm, which was supporting Azriel, as she looked down at Cassian. "How is he?" she asked, concern etched in every line of her face.

Nesta's grim expression said it all. "Not good. We need to get him to a healer, fast."

Azriel's face was ashen, and his jaw clenched tightly. "Then, let's not waste any more time."

Together, they gathered around the monolith, and thank the Mother, it transported them back to Velaris upon touch.

Chapter Text

The onyx monolith atop Ramiel had indeed transported them back to Velaris. Cassian had been brought to Madja in time, ensuring a full recovery, although he would need to take things slow for a while. Rhysand had set forces out to find Devlon, who had seemed to have disappeared off the face of Prythian. What mattered was that they were all safe and sound, though - for now, at least.

Guilt and uncertainty swirled within him while the Shadowsinger flew from the Riverhouse back to the House of Wind. His thoughts were consumed by the conversation he'd just had with Rhysand regarding Gwyn and what had happened at Ramiel.

"Take her to Helion," Rhysand had ordered, under the pretense that Azriel needed assistance with research on Truthteller and Gwydion in Helion's library. Whereas the real reason for the journey should be for Helion to discern if he could detect the nature of Gwyn's powers or her true heritage.

Azriel knew it wasn't right to lie to her, but if he told her the truth, she would be overwhelmed, feeling as though they were suspicious of her. And he couldn't bear the thought of losing her trust.

Goosebumps rose on his skin as he remembered the sheer force of her powers, somehow knowing that he had only witnessed a fraction of what she was truly capable of.

It terrified him to think how things might change for her if Rhysand learned the full extent of her abilities, for High Lords had a penchant for utilizing the powerful members of their Court for their own purposes. Wouldn't he know ...

Azriel did not wish for Gwyn's life to change in that manner.

He pushed aside his swirling thoughts, focusing on the present moment as he entered the House. Winter Solstice was fast approaching, and he had a special plan in mind, but he needed Nesta's help to execute it.

As he neared the dinner hall, laughter and raised voices reached his ears. He paused momentarily, listening intently before pushing open the heavy doors.

The familiar scent filled his nostrils, yet one outstanding component caused his heart to beat faster.

Cassian and Gwyn were sitting across from each other at the dinner table, their faces flushed with merriment as they were engaged in a playful argument.

The Illyrian's mischievous eyes sparkled as he nudged the female's arm lying in front of him. His grin was so wide it threatened to split his face. "Come now, Gwynnie," he taunted. "You can't seriously believe you are closer to him just because you saved his arse once."

The addressed leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs and raising an eyebrow. "Not just his," she countered coolly. "Yours too."

Cassian's sheepish expression quickly turned into a proud smirk. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide his grin. "Well, yes, I suppose you do have a point there," he conceded. "But let's not forget that I've saved him a few more times than you have. I've known him for centuries after all."

But Gwyn just rolled her eyes. With a hint of sarcasm in her tone, she retorted, "And yet, despite your long history together, it seems you still don't know Azriel as well as you think you do."

"Alright, you two," Azriel finally spoke up, unable to keep his amusement at bay any longer, "what's all this about?"

They both froze in an instant, eyes wide as they suddenly realized that their argument had been overheard by none other than the subject himself, who now stood in the doorway, leaning against it with that infuriating air of nonchalance he always seemed to carry around.

Gwyn's cheeks flushed a deep shade of red at his sudden appearance, and Azriel stop his thoughts from noticing how the color suited her. It was then he really took her in realizing she wasn't wearing her usual priestess robes or fighting leathers. Instead, she donned a tight-fitting sweater that accentuated the lush curves of her breasts and leggings that left little to the imagination. His throat went unexpectedly dry, and he forced himself to look away, swallowing hard.

Just then, Nesta entered from the kitchen, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she took in the scene before her. "These two have been arguing over who knows you best for the past half hour," she confessed, her voice lighthearted and teasing.

Cassian and Gwyn both looked flustered, avoiding Azriel's gaze as they realized how childish their argument must have sounded. It was evident that neither of them had expected him to bear witness to this.

Nesta leaned against the doorway, her eyes dancing with amusement as she watched Azriel's conflicted expression. "Now that you are here," she urged, a teasing lilt to her voice, "you can finally put an end to this debate. Who is your BFF, Azzy?"

"Truth be told," he began, locking eyes with each of them in turn, "I value both of your friendships very much. I couldn't ask for better allies."

As the words left his lips, he knew them to be true. But deep down, he also felt that his connection with Gwyn had grown into something more than just friendship, even though he could not put a name to what it was yet.

"However," he continued, allowing a hint of mischief to creep into his voice, "if I absolutely had to choose... I'd say it's Nesta."

Gwyn and Cassian's jaws dropped in unison, their expressions priceless as they stared at Azriel in disbelief. Nesta, however, couldn't contain her laughter as she reveled in the moment, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"Trust me when I say this was not an easy decision," Azriel added, voice laced with sarcasm. "But I guess sometimes life requires us to make difficult choices."

"Y-you're joking, right?" Gwyn stammered, her voice barely audible as she tried to process Azriel's words. She looked at him with a mixture of disbelief and mild disappointment, her heart sinking in her chest despite knowing he was not being serious.

Cassian, meanwhile, simply shook his head, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he accepted the verdict. "Well played, brother," he conceded, raising an imaginary glass in a mock salute. "Well played."

As the initial shock wore off, Gwyn couldn't help but join in the laughter that bubbled up from Nesta's throat. It was a rare sight to see her so carefree.

As it subsided, though, Azriel seized the opportunity to press forward.

"So best friend," Azriel began, his voice laced with amusement, "I wondered if I could steal you for an hour or two. I need your help with something."

Gwyn and Cassian exchanged suspicious glances. Nesta, however, didn't hesitate in her response, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she agreed. "Of course, best friend. What kind of favor do you need?"

Cassian huffed, rolling his shoulders back before crossing his arms over his chest. "And what am I supposed to do while you two are off doing... whatever it is you're doing? I'm housebound, remember?"

Azriel couldn't contain his smirk as he watched his brother struggle to maintain his composure. The warrior had always been fiercely competitive, and being sidelined due to his injuries was undoubtedly grating on him.

"Ah, don't worry, Cass," Azriel reassured him, his tone light and teasing. "I'm sure Gwyn can keep you company while we're gone."

The shadows around him shifted as though echoing his amusement, and he caught Gwyn's gaze for a brief moment. Her cheeks flushed now with delicate pink. Yet she refused to break eye contact with him, meeting his gaze with a resolute determination that caused a warm and heavy feeling to settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Fine," Cassian muttered, his voice gruff but resigned. "Just don't take too long."

"Alright then." Nesta nodded her approval before linking her arm with Azriel's, making them both appear like they were about to set off on some secret adventure.

"So what is this mysterious project you require my help with?" Nesta finally asked as they strolled down the corridor, glancing up at Azriel.

He gave her a small smile. "It's for Gwyn. I wanted to do something special for Solstice."

Nesta raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what did you have in mind?"

Azriel paused, considering if they were out of hearing range, while Nesta waited patiently.

"I thought since her biggest wish is to leave the library, and she has only ever done that out of duty," he started, "we could plan a day for her in Velaris, visiting all the places she might like."

Nesta's eyes widened with joy. "That is a wonderful idea, Azriel."

Gwyn and Cassian watched as the other two left the room. A strange silence settled over the space, broken only by the creaking of chairs and the shifting of feet.

"So," Gwyn began hesitantly as if she were treading on unfamiliar ground. "What do you usually do when you're stuck inside?"

Cassian frowned, contemplating the question. "I don't know," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Train, I guess. Or annoy Az."

"Both excellent options," Gwyn mused, her lips curling into a small smile. "But since neither one is available now, any other suggestions?"

"Cards?" Cassian suggested, shrugging. "Or maybe... I could teach you how to play Illyrian dice?"

"Sounds interesting," Gwyn replied, her curiosity piqued.

"It's a favorite among Illyrian warriors. It's a way to pass the time and settle friendly bets," Cassian explained.

She leaned closer, her gaze locked on Cassian's. "Teach me."

Cassian stood up from his chair and walked over to the cabinet where he kept his games. He pulled out a small pouch and returned to the table.

"Alright," he began, opening the pouch to reveal several small dice. "So there are different ways to play this game, but we'll start with something simple." He explained the rules as they set up the game, showing Gwyn how to roll and keep score.

As the minutes passed, the initial awkwardness between Gwyn and Cassian ebbed away like water retreating from the shore. The more time they spent together, the more comfortable they became in each other's presence.

"Your turn," Gwyn said, nudging Cassian playfully with her elbow. He grinned at her before rolling the dice, watching as they tumbled across the table like stars streaking through the night sky.

"Are you not… jealous?" Gwyn asked suddenly, her voice soft but laced with curiosity as she tilted her head to look at Cassian. "Seeing Nesta leave with Azriel?"

Cassian chuckled, a low rumble that seemed to emanate from deep within his chest. "No, not with Az," he replied, his expression one of genuine trust. "There is no one in Prythian I trust more than my brother, even with my mate." He paused, a wicked grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Though, now that I think about it, I might not necessarily trust my mate with him." Cassian leaned back in his chair, his laughter low and throaty. "Nesta is quite attracted to him. But who isn't?" His laughter only increased when he saw Gwyn's expression. "Doesn't matter anyway. Azriel only has eyes for one person these days."

Her heart clenched, "You mean Elain ...".

Cassian briefly looked confused before realization struck. "Oh, no, no, I didn't mean..." he backtracked but quickly realized she was oblivious to the true nature of his brother's feelings.

But Gwyn's thoughts had already gone wild, "Do you think she still harbors feelings for him?"

Deciding to play along, he shrugged nonchalantly, "I can't claim to know what goes on in any of the Archeron sisters' heads."

After careful consideration, Gwyn confessed, "They would look stunning as a couple." She couldn't help but imagine how their features would perfectly complement each other.

Cassian shook his head in disagreement. "Looks shouldn't be the deciding reason. There should be more than just that." Cassian reminded her, his voice carrying a note of wisdom that seemed to clear the heavy atmosphere that had taken over.

Instead, a calm and peaceful quiet enveloped them, the only noise being the sound of their dice rolling on the table. They played four rounds of Illyrian dice, and after some time had passed, Gwyn finally spoke up again.

"I was reading something rather interesting about Illyrian wings the other day."

Cassian's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Oh? And what exactly were you reading?"

Her cheeks flushed. "Just...some things. About wing care and grooming habits."

His expression softened, and he leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table. "Well, it is true. Our wings require a lot of care."

Gwyn's curiosity was piqued, and she couldn't resist asking, "What kind of care?"

Cassian raised an eyebrow playfully. "Are you sure you want to know all the details? It might be too much for your innocent ears."

She rolled her eyes and huffed, "Don't treat me like a sheltered princess."

He chuckled again, enjoying teasing her. "Of course not, little owl." The endearment made Gwyn's cheeks flush again.

Clearing his throat, Cassian took on a more serious tone. "Well, for starters, we have to regularly oil our wings. It helps keep them smooth and prevents them from ripping."

Gwyn nodded along as Cassian continued to explain the different ways Illyrians cared for their wings.

"We also have to stretch them out daily," he said with a grin. "It feels amazing after a long day of training."

It must feel wonderful to have wings - to soar through the skies without a care in the world.

Gwyn rolled her dice once more. "My book mentioned that wings can be quite sensitive...in certain areas."

There we go, Cassian thought. "Look at you, suddenly so interested in the wings of Illyrian males."

Gwyn fidgeted with her hands, avoiding his gaze. "Purely academic interest, of course," she mumbled.

He wasn't convinced but decided not to push. "I think I need a drink for this conversation," he announced, standing up from the table. "Would you like one too?"

"Sure," she agreed, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink as she realized how forward her question might have sounded.

When Cassian returned, two glasses in hand, she couldn't hold back her questions any longer. "So, what exactly happens during wingplay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, as if afraid someone might overhear.

He took a sip of his drink and then answered very carefully. "Wingplay is...well, it's exactly what it sounds like. Playing with someone's wings."

Gwyn rolled her eyes but then pressed on further. "You mean...like touching and caressing them?"

Cassian nodded a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Yes, among other things."

Gwyn felt her cheeks heat up, so she took a long sip of her drink to cool down.

"But it's not just about pleasure," Cassian continued, sensing Gwyn's discomfort. "It can also be used as a form of intimacy and trust building between partners."

Gwyn was intrigued. She had never heard of such a practice before, but it made sense, given the strong bond Illyrians had with their wings.

"Do all Illyrians engage in it?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Cassian shrugged. "Not all, but many do. It's a personal preference, really."

Gwyn nodded thoughtfully before another question popped into her mind. "And what about...erogenous zones on the wings? Is that true?"

She was a kind of her own, this female. No discomfiture was high enough to keep her from filling her thirst for knowledge. "Yes, it is true. Some areas are more sensitive than others." He leaned closer to Gwyn conspiratorially. "But I'm not going to tell you where they are."

And that make Gwyn laugh. Despite feeling out of her comfort zone, she found herself enjoying talking to him.

Cassian smirked, "You know, I find it rather suspicious that you're so interested in this particular topic." He winked at her, causing her blush to deepen even further.

Suddenly her drink was very interesting, how the liquid swirled inside the glass. "I'm just...curious," she admitted quietly, avoiding his gaze. "And, well, you have wings. I thought maybe you could provide some insight, which you did. So thank you."

A little smirk play at his lips as he leaned back in his chair, studying her intently. "You are welcome. I suppose there's no harm in satisfying your curiosity," he finally said.

Gwyn's head was buzzing pleasantly and she found herself enjoying the warmth of the fire and Cassian's company very much. They had finished the first bottle and were now well into their second, the conversation flowing easily between them.

"We should play them a trick," Cassian suddenly said mischievously, a twinkle in his eyes.

Gwyn gasped, "Like what?"

"Az and I used to be quite the pranksters."

"So I've heard," she replied with a playful smirk. When Cassian only raised a brow in question, Gwyn added, "Azriel has shared some stories."

"Oh has he now? What did he say?"

"Just some silly tales about your antics with the Inner Circle."

He grinned wickedly. "Well then, since you're aware of our past shenanigans, why don't you come up with a new prank idea, Berdara? See it as some kind of initiation."

Gwyn's eyes widened in excitement.

She tapped her chin thoughtfully before an idea struck her. Leaning in close to Cassian, she whispered her plan to him.

His eyes lit up in approval, and he leaned back with a grin on his face.

"I like where this is going!"

"Well, they shouldn't have left us alone." She clinked her glass against his, the liquid sloshing over the sides.

"Exactly!" Cassian agreed, "He had it coming!"

As they stumbled through the House a bit later, their steps unsteady and their laughter echoing through the halls, Gwyn felt a rush of exhilaration that she had not felt in years.

It was as if she had been transported to a time before the horrors of Sangravah when she was just a girl with dreams of adventure and mischief.

"Okay," Cassian whispered, his words slightly slurred as they approached Azriel's room. "We need to be quiet."

"Right, quiet," Gwyn agreed, biting her lip to suppress another giggle. Both somehow missing the fact that they were all alone. But as they crept into Azriel's room, their attempts at stealth were thwarted by their drunken clumsiness anyway – they bumped into furniture, knocked over trinkets, and stepped on creaking floorboards, their laughter bubbling up uncontrollably every time they made a noise.

Finally, they arrived at their intended target: Azriel's bed. When Gwyn's hand brushed against the chilled and pointed edge of a blade, she felt satisfied. Oh, this would be so much fun!

She retrieved the daggers hidden beneath the pillows and proceeded to search under the mattress, where she discovered even more weapons. A little squeak escaped at the realization that Azriel, indeed, slept with knives in his bed.

"Let's hide these," she suggested, holding up the daggers to him with open excitement. "He's going to be so mad, when his precious little babies are gone."

Cassian raised a brow, casting her a suspicious glance. "And how, pray tell, did you know they were there?"

Gwyn turned away, cursing internally for the blush that already began creeping up her neck. Instead she busied herself looking for hiding spots in the room, where Azriel would struggle to find the knives later.

"Gwynnie," Cassian prodded, his eyes glinting with mischief. "How did you know?"

She huffed in exasperation. "It's not what you think! We just talk, about...things." But why did it feel like so much more?

"Sure, because he is known to be a big talker." He drawled sarcastically.

Gwyn lifted her chin in defiance. "You'd better pray to the Mother that's exactly what he's doing to your mate right now."

Cassian's smug grin froze. Clearing his throat, he managed to grumble, "That was savage, Gwynnie."

Unable to contain herself, she burst into giggles. It was worth it just to see the dumbfounded look on his face.

Eventually they set to work hiding the blades – tucking them into drawers, stuffing them behind bookshelves, and even sneaking one into a vase.

Gwyn marveled at this newfound camaraderie with Cassian as they completed their task.

It was just incredible that she now had two male figures in her life who she felt comfortable with, who she fully trusted, and who she considered her friends.

Later, Gwyn sat on the plush sofa, her fingers deftly weaving intricate braids through Cassian's thick locks as he lounged on the floor before her. Their laughter was a bubbling brook, filling the room with warmth and mirth, the remnants of their earlier mischief still hanging in the air.

"Who knew you were so good at this?" Cassian mused. His eyes were half closed, and a lazy smile played across his lips as Gwyn continued to braid his hair.

"I used to do all sorts of cheeky things with my sister," Gwyn replied coyly, her cheeks flushed with the sweet intoxication of wine and their friendship. "I wish I could see his face when he realizes they're gone! I pray the shadows won't tell him," Gwyn said gleefully.

Cassian grinned up at her. "Me too. We should gang up on Az more often."

Before long, they heard the front door open and close. Nesta's lilting voice sounded from the foyer, answered by Azriel's deep rumble. Gwyn and Cassian exchanged delighted glances, prepping themselves.

Azriel and Nesta rounded the corner and stopped short at the sight of Cassian and Gwyn, drunk and relaxed, an unlikely pair. Azriel's eyes narrowed, while Nesta looked them both up and down with thinly veiled amusement.

Cassian waved cheekily from his spot on the floor. "Hello, lovebirds. Did you have fun without us?"

Gwyn dissolved into tipsy giggles again. Azriel crossed his arms, one eyebrow raised.

"What exactly have you two been up to?" he asked, a hint of suspicion in his tone.

Cassian smirked. "Oh, just hanging out, braiding each other's hair. The usual."

Nesta let out an exaggerated sigh, the hint of a smile on her lips. "Why do you have this glint in your eyes?"

"What glint, Ness?" Cassian asked, one corner of his mouth still tugged upwards.

"You definitely did something," Nesta stated matter-of-factly, not even bothering to pose it as a question.

Gwyn sat up primly, eyes shining with mirth. "Our lips are sealed," she declared loftily.

"Seems like we missed quite the party," Nesta murmured to Azriel, his shadows swirling around him as he tried to make sense of the emotions that surged through his heart.

"Indeed," he agreed, his voice barely audible. "It appears we have."

Cassian merely grinned, unfazed by their judgment. "Well, if Azriel can spend some time with his new best friend," he raised his glass, a wicked gleam in his eye as he turned to Gwyn. "then I don't see why I couldn't do the same."

He clinked his glass with hers, their laughter drowning out the sound of the crystal meeting.

"Cheers to that," Gwyn agreed, her voice light and carefree. She took a sip of her drink, savoring the warmth that spread through her chest.

Azriel glanced back and forth between the two figures lounging on the sofa, his mind swirling with thoughts. He couldn't deny the foreign flutter of emotion he felt while watching Cassian lean in effortlessly to Gwyn, her laughter sounding like a symphony to his ears. He treasured that sound deeply, knowing it was a source of happiness. But now, it seemed someone else had found a way to bring that joy out of her.

A queasy feeling churned in his stomach. Was he... was he jealous?

Nesta, too, couldn't help but furrow her brow as she observed the scene before her. She rejoiced in seeing her sister-in-arms forging a bond with her mate - they were both strong-willed, fierce, and capable of great resilience. Just a very small, possessive part, which she refused to acknowledge - bristled at the sight of them so at ease with one another.

Chapter Text

Winter Solstice had arrived, blanketing Velaris in a frosty embrace as the world held its breath for the year's longest night.

The scent of cinnamon and cloves permeated the air as Feyre and Elain busied themselves, decorating the grand foyer of the River House. Crimson ribbons and emerald garlands draped across the marble columns while wreaths of holly adorned each window and door. Feyre balanced on a stool, hanging delicate glass ornaments on the towering fir tree Rhysand had hauled in that morning. Elain hummed softly as she arranged vases of winter roses, their moonlight petals a stark contrast against the dark wood of the side tables.

In the next room, delighted squeals rang out as Azriel, who was sitting on a plush rug, lifted baby Nyx into the air, the Shadowsinger's face alight with joy. Nyx spread his tiny wings wide, his chubby fists opening and closing as Azriel pulled the babbling baby against his broad chest.

"Come here, little warrior," Azriel murmured, a rare soft smile gracing his lips. Nyx grabbed at Azriel's hands, tracing the scars on his fingers with curious intent. Azriel's breath hitched at the innocent touch. He had expected the usual recoil, but this tiny child just smiled up at him in delight.

His shadows curled affectionately around Nyx, eliciting giggles as they tickled his chubby cheeks. With Nyx, there was no judgment, no prying eyes waiting for him to slip up. It was just unconditional joy and trust.
Feyre breezed into the room in a flutter of skirts, planting a kiss on her son's head. "I hope he's not giving you too much trouble."
Azriel shook his head, eyes crinkling. "None at all. "Nyx giggled and grasped at the tendrils of darkness that swirled around them, his chubby fists passing right through them. Azriel reveled in these moments of solitude with his nephew. No spying, no fighting, just the simplicity of a child's joy easing the ever-present tension in his shoulders. Azriel pressed a tender kiss to Nyx's downy head as the baby babbled happily.

Elain emerged from the kitchen, carrying a tray laden with cookies. She set it on the coffee table with care.

"The others will be here soon," she said softly. Though her words were directed at Azriel, her focus stayed on the cookies, arranging them just so. An uncomfortable beat of silence followed. Azriel cleared his throat, shadows writhing. He opened his mouth to speak, but Elain had already drifted back to the kitchen.

Azriel sighed under his breath. Things were still awkward between them, lingering tension from the last Winter Solstice and the aftermath of his misplaced feelings. And seeing Elain now confirmed any infatuation he'd felt had long since faded. The only woman who occupied his thoughts these days had eyes like the sea and a laugh like sunshine.
The rest of the Inner Circle arrived indeed soon after, filling the house with laughter and lively chatter.

Mor breezed in, like every year, with gifts piled high in her arms, nearly toppling into Cassian as he stomped snow from his boots. Amren followed behind, rolling her eyes at their antics while Varian took her coat. Rhysand and Feyre emerged from the kitchen, greeting each new arrival with smiles and warm embraces.
Dinner passed in a blur of laughter, shared memories, and lively conversation. As the plates were cleared away, anticipation hummed through the room, and the time for exchanging gifts was drawing near.

Sensing the perfect moment, Azriel rose from his seat and approached Elain, who sat alone on the plush couch, gazing wistfully out the window into the gently falling snow. The shadows around him seemed to be still as if they were holding their breath in anticipation of what was to come.

"Elain," he began, his voice low and steady. She blinked as if pulled from some deep reverie and turned to him in surprise. Azriel hesitated. "I...hoped to get a chance to speak to you… to apologize again for what happened last Solstice."

Elain's eyes dropped to her lap. "You've already done that. No need." she said softly. "It's in the past now."

"I know." Azriel fidgeted slightly. "But I feel we've drifted completely apart since then. I regret that. And I regret...not being fully honest with you and myself."

He dared to meet Elain's gaze again. "I value our friendship. I hope, in time, we can find our way back to how things were before."

Elain considered him for a long moment, then offered a small, forgiving smile. "I would like that, Azriel. Truly. There is just so much going on right now. It has nothing to do with you. But I value our friendship, too. "

Relief swept through him. He produced a slender box wrapped in blue paper from his pocket and handed it to her. "Just a little something."

Elain carefully opened it. Nestled inside were a dozen bulbs, each no bigger than a thumbnail. Their outer shells were a muted brown, but Elain could sense the vibrant life pulsing within.

"They bloom at night," Azriel explained. "I thought you might like to plant them in your garden."

"Oh, thank you, Azriel! They're perfect." Elain surprised him by throwing her arms around his neck in an impulsive hug. Azriel tensed, then slowly relaxed into the embrace. Over Elain's shoulder, he noticed Rhysand watching them, brow furrowed.

Elain pulled back, cheeks pink. "Thank you. I'm sorry I don't have a gift for you this year, but I truly appreciate this." She bit her lip. "I want to rebuild our friendship, really."
Just then, Mor swooped in and grabbed Elain's arm. "You have to come to see what Cassian got Nesta," she said with a wicked grin.

Azriel took the opportunity to slip away, murmuring his goodbyes. As expected, Cassian and Rhysand pressed him for further details about his early departure. However, Az remained vague, simply saying he had somewhere else to be.

Only Nesta glanced back at him knowingly. "Give her my regards," she said to him at the door.

Heat rose under Azriel's collar. With a final nod, he went out into the night.

Azriel landed silently in the courtyard of the House of Wind, shadows swirling around him. His keen ears could already pick up the distant strains of angelic singing coming from the temple by the library. The chamber was dimly lit, but the white robes of the priestesses seemed to glimmer and shine in the moonlight that came through the high windows. The scent of incense and candles lingered in the air, adding to the otherworldly atmosphere.

Azriel slipped into the back of the temple, staying hidden in the shadows as he listened to the haunting melodies - not wanting to disturb the ceremony. His eyes searched the rows of priestesses until he found the one he sought.

Gwyn knelt with her head bowed, copper hair spilling over her shoulders, looking utterly serene as her voice rang out clear and true. He did not know why her voice stood out to him. Maybe because of what had happened between them at Ramiel. It was the most beautiful voice he had ever heard and once again he stood in awe as he listened. However it was far from the only thing outstanding about her.

As the ritual continued, Azriel found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her. The grace with which she moved, the passion in her singing, the glow of devotion on her face - it stirred something deep within him. She was radiant. But he had always known. So why did it feel different when he looked at her now?
As Gwyn's voice rose in a powerful crescendo, a familiar presence brushed against her hand – a small shadow curling around her finger like a gentle caress. Her heart leaped with joy as she instantly recognized it to be Azriel's.

He had to be here somewhere, even though Gwyn couldn't spot him anywhere. Which did not necessarily mean anything since he was probably hiding in a corner somewhere.
Yet just knowing he was present filled her with such warmth that she found herself singing with even greater fervor.
When the ceremony finally came to an end, Gwyn allowed the playful shadow to guide her through the temple, leading her to it's master. She found Azriel indeed standing in a secluded corner, shrouded in darkness, his massive Illyrian wings folded neatly behind him.

He strode towards her with measured steps. Dressed in a sleek and tailored black shirt and pants that hugged his defined muscles almost as good as his leathers, he could easily be mistaken for a High Lord. As he got closer, Gwyn couldn't deny any longer that the sight of him made her knees weak. But like usual, she masked her flustered state with playful banter.

"Fancy meeting you here, Shadowsinger," her eyes sparkled as she greeted him.

But Azriel couldn't reply. His mouth had gone utterly dry. She had been a vision from afar, but up close ... up close she was absolutely radiant. Her skin seemed to glow and those freckles, they were just tormenting him in a way nothing else ever had. When he became aware of his staring, it was already too late.
Gwyn had noticed and she blushed heavily in response.

"What brings you by?" she tried again.

Azriel's heart raced as he struggled to come up with a nonchalant response. "Would you believe me if I said I wanted to hear some music?"
Gwyn arched a brow. "I might," she said with a coy smile, "but I have a feeling there's more to it than just that." Like there always was with the Shadowsinger.
He let out a small sigh.

"You're right," he admitted, "I came to see you."

And his shadows seemed to writhe with the weight of his words. Gwyn's breath caught in her throat, completely taken off guard by this confession.
"Oh," was all she managed to say, mentally scolding herself for her ineloquence.

A shy smile tugged at Azriel's lips as he watched Gwyn's flustered reaction. "I hope it's alright. I came. I mean I can go again though … if you prefer solitude tonight."
Gwyn shook her head, finding her voice again after being momentarily stunned."No. Stay! I'm happy to see you."

Their gaze lingered on each other, too long to brush it off as something casual, but time seemingly stood still.
Just as Azriel was about to speak again, a small group of priestesses passed by, their gazes darting between him and Gwyn with curious, almost suspicious glances.
Gwyn sighed heavily.

"Are you alright?" Azriel asked, his voice quiet but filled with genuine concern.

Forcing a smile she gave him a quick "fine". Only adding more, when she realized he would not be satisfied with that answer. "I just don't like how they are glaring at us. "
He gave her a reassuring smile. "Well, if it makes you feel any better, I don't think they're glaring at you."

"I know," she huffed. But knowing they stared at him, did not make this any better. In a moment of impulsiveness, Gwyn suggested, "Should we find somewhere more private? Away from all these prying eyes and ears?"

"That sounds like a good idea," he agreed with a nod. "We could take a walk and get some fresh air."

"Perfect," she exclaimed, eager to escape the judgmental gazes of the other priestesses. Their steps fell in sync as they walked side by side.
"How was the celebration at the River House?" Gwyn asked.

Azriel's lips curved into a gentle smile. "It was nice. A bit quieter than usual, with all attention focused on Nyx, of course."

Gwyn couldn't help but let out a soft laugh, picturing the scene in her mind. "I can only imagine how much fun he had with all of you spoiling him."
"Indeed," Azriel chuckled. "He is a very lucky little boy to have so many people who love him."

They reached the balcony, the nighttime breeze causing Gwyn to shiver slightly as they stepped outside. The view from this part of the House was breathtaking, with twinkling stars and a full moon casting a mystical glow over everything.

Gwyn lifted the hood of her robe, allowing the wind to run through her coppery brown locks. She closed her eyes for a moment, breathing in the scent of the night air. As she exhaled, a peaceful sigh escaped her lips, and Azriel found himself wholly enraptured by the female beside him.
The pale moonlight cascaded gently over her otherworldly features, illuminating her fair complexion.
It was as if she was a part of the star constellation above them, a celestial being in their midst. Every delicate line and contour of her face was highlighted, from the graceful curve of her cheekbones to the sharp arch of her brow. The subtle curve of her full upper lip. And her chin, so perfectly sculpted and defined. Azriel, all of a sudden, seemed having trouble to breathe as he beheld her.

"Isn't it magnificent?" she whispered, her teal eyes meeting his as she gestured to the city below them.

"Very," he agreed, although he was not looking at the distant lights. No, his gaze remained fixed on Gwyn, drinking in every inch of her ethereal beauty.
Gwyn seemed completely oblivious to the effect she had on him, or perhaps she was purposely ignoring it.

Instead, she further pressed her lithe body against the railing, gazing down at Velaris with a wistful expression. "I love the way the stars reflect off the river," she murmured. "It's like there's an entire world beneath the surface, just waiting to be explored."

When he did not reply, Gwyn shifted towards him and found his intense gaze already fixed upon her. She raised an eyebrow, breaking the silence. "What is it?"
He cleared his throat, trying to hide the growing warmth in his cheeks, as he realized he had just got caught staring again.

"Nothing. I just..." A wave of self-consciousness washed over him. When had he become so tongue-tied and foolish around her? Sure, he had always been quite aware of her especially during their training, where he enjoyed teasing that irreverent charm out of her. But all this blushing and sweating? When had that happened? This newfound nervousness around her was unfamiliar territory to him. It would be best to keep these thoughts to himself for now. So Azriel took a deep breath, attempting to calm himself before deciding to speak again. "Why is it you never wear the Invoking Stone? Like the other priestesses."

Gwyn's smile faltered as his words hit her. She glanced away, fingers worrying the hem of her sleeve.

"I don't feel worthy of it," she finally admitted quietly.

"Not after everything that has happened. Failing my sister, the attack, struggling to overcome it all. All this hate I felt. I'm not worthy to wear it."

Azriel's heart fractured at her words. Knowing all too well the weight of feeling unworthy, he reached for her hand, lightly covering it with his own scarred one. Her skin was so soft against his calloused palm, like silk beneath his touch.

"Gwyn, look at me," he implored gently. When she met his gaze, he could see the hurt shining in her eyes, and it made his own heart ache. "I know a thing or two about not feeling worthy, but hearing it from you –" He paused, swallowing hard as he searched for the right words. "It makes me unbelievably sad. Because you are more than worthy." His thumb rubbed soothingly over her knuckles. "Exceptionally so. You're one of the most incredible people I have ever met, and I can't fathom how you could feel otherwise."

Tears glistened in Gwyn's eyes, but then something miraculous happened - a small, trembling smile graced her lips.

"Funny," she whispered, leaning closer to him. "I feel the same way about you."

Azriel's cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson, his heart racing as he struggled to contain the emotions bubbling inside him.

Their intertwined hands drew his gaze downward, and he felt the softness of her skin against his own. Memories flooded his mind – the moment they had shared at Ramiel, how their voices had woven together like strands of fate, and how, for once, he hadn't thought of worthiness during a special moment he had shared with someone else.
Silence settled between them once more, but it was a comfortable one.

He cleared his throat, a shy smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "And here I thought I still had to prove myself to not be on the receiving end of your irreverence so often," he teased.

Her giggles rang out like silver bells. And when she gazed up at him, her eyes sparkled with amusement and affection. "I've figured something out about you," she began. "You don't crave my admiration. You need someone who challenges you and keeps you on your toes. But that doesn't mean the admiration isn't there. Because I can assure you it is, and it always has been - ever since the day you saved me."

Something powerful flowed between them, an awakening, a beginning. And Azriel could not tear his eyes away from her. Every instinct screamed at him to close the scant distance between them, to press his lips to Gwyn's, and never let go. Yet he held back, fists clenching with restraint.

Her friendship was everything to him, and he wouldn't risk ruining it by giving in to impulsive desires. As much as he wanted to kiss her, he knew better than to act without thinking with her.

But then her own eyes flickered to his lips, the faintest blush coloring her cheeks, and Azriel thought he was losing his mind. Maybe she was fighting the same urges. Yet neither of them made a move. Perhaps too afraid of what it could mean if they gave in.

He shivered as a frigid blast of air rushed over the balcony, causing his wings to flutter restlessly. Gwyn wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the chill seeping into her bones.
"We should head back inside where it's warmer," Azriel suggested, and Gwyn nodded in agreement. They made their way into the living room, where a fire crackled merrily in the hearth.

Taking a seat on the sofa Gwyn and Cassian had occupied days ago, she could not help but wonder how their little prank might have turned out.
A small smile tugged at her lips at the memory, making Azriel raise an eyebrow in question.

"Do you happen to be some daggers short lately?" she asked, mirth dancing in her eyes.

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh as he settled onto the sofa beside her. "You and Cassian were far from subtle in your choice of hiding spots."
He gave her a playful look. "I expected that from him, but from you?"

Gwyn feigned offense, her mouth dropping open in mock shock. "Hey now, we thought it was quite clever!"

Gwyn was a constant source of joy - quick-witted and playful. He cherished every moment spent with her, feeling grateful to have someone who could make him forget the weight of his duties for just a little while.

He smiled at her, the dimples on his cheeks deepening as he did so. "Well, you were both pretty intoxicated."

Pouting, she turned to face him fully, "And I suppose you think you could have done better?"

Azriel's voice dropped dangerously low, dripping with a seductive charm he had never used on her before, "Spymaster, remember? "

A tremor shot through Gwyn's body, every nerve suddenly on high alert. Her cheeks flushed a deep shade of red, and she could feel the heat radiating from other areas as well. No! How could his mere voice have such an effect on her?
Gwyn shifted uncomfortably and prayed he could not smell anything.
But if he did, he gave no indication of doing so. However, he must have noticed her expression because he subtly moved away.
And now Gwyn was terrified for a whole other reason. Did he think she did not like him so close?

His eyes darted to his hands, which were trembling as he nervously picked at the hem of his shirt. Why did he all of a sudden seem so out of place?
As he fidgeted, Azriel's voice stumbled out in a jumbled mess of words. "I … um… got you something. For Winter Solstice." This was not like him - usually so composed and confident, but now his tongue seemed to trip over itself.

Gwyn's eyes widened in surprise, and she opened her mouth to protest. "You didn't have to get me anything," she insisted.
But Azriel's expression softened into a small, crooked smile. "I wanted to," he said earnestly, his dark eyes meeting hers with sincerity. "To make up for last year." Regret laced his words as he mentioned the previous Winter Solstice.

The memory of that ill-fated rose necklace he'd intended for Elain still stung a bit, even if Gwyn knew Azriel didn't mean to cause any trouble.
Sensing her unease, Azriel hastened to explain himself. "I know I hurt you with the whole necklace situation. It was careless of me. I'm truly sorry."

Gwyn studied his remorseful face. The necklace may have been intended for Elain, but she couldn't deny the happiness she'd felt upon receiving such a beautiful, anonymous gift. Despite the messy circumstances, Azriel's thoughtfulness had touched her.

"It's okay," she reassured him. "Truly. And actually, I ended up donating the necklace to the orphanage. I'm sure it made some little girl very happy."

A wave of relief washed over Azriel's handsome features, a small smile appearing on his lips. "I'm so relieved to hear that," he said sincerely. "Still, I want to give you something special this year. Something that is intended for you."

Gwyn's heart fluttered like a bird in flight as she gazed at Azriel, her eyes brimming with anticipation. "You really didn't have to," she murmured, unable to contain the excitement bubbling within her.

Azriel merely grinned and conjured a small envelope from the shadows. "I hope I don't fail you this time," he said as he delicately placed it into her awaiting hands.
Carefully, she opened it, her breath catching when she saw what lay inside…

"Tickets to the opera?" she gasped.

"Actually," Azriel began, his voice a mere whisper as he leaned in closer to Gwyn, "Nesta and I planned an entire day for you."

He paused, his eyes locking onto hers, causing her heart to race. "We'll start with breakfast at the best bakery in Velaris, followed by visits to the city's most renowned museums and bookstores."

Gwyn's eyes lit up at the mention of bookstores, her teal irises shimmering like the depths of the ocean.
"Afterwards," Azriel went on, "we'll dine at an exquisite restaurant before ending the night at the opera."

His gaze held her in place, daring her to look away and miss out on the promise of such a grand night. "Everyone will be there," he added, listing off names that brought a smile to her lips. Even her new best friend, Cassian, would be joining them, although he apparently hated the opera.

The thoughtfulness behind his gift left her breathless, and without a second thought, she flung her arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Thank you, Azriel," she whispered against his ear, her voice thick with emotion. "This means more to me than you can ever imagine."
The Shadowsinger stiffened momentarily at the unexpected contact but soon relaxed into the hug. His strong arms encircled her waist as they pressed together, their bodies flush against each other.

He could feel the steady beat of her heart against his chest, a rhythm that synced perfectly with his own.
In that moment, with Gwyn's warmth surrounding him, Azriel experienced a sense of belonging he had never known before – one that surpassed even the deepest bonds of friendship and loyalty. It was as if Gwyn had somehow unlocked that dark chamber within his heart and filled it with light.

As they made their way back to Gwyn's dorm room, they walked in comfortable silence. The only sound was the rhythmic echo of their steps bouncing off the polished marble walls of the empty corridors.

When they finally arrived at her door, Gwyn turned to face him, a hint of excitement in her eyes.
"Wait here!" she exclaimed before disappearing inside. Azriel leaned against the wall, hands in his pockets, curious about what she was up to.

A minute later, Gwyn emerged with a small package wrapped in simple paper. "This is for you," she said eagerly, holding it out to him. "But don't open it until you're alone."

Azriel accepted the package, intrigued by its book-sized shape and lightweight feel. "I wasn't expecting anything," he protested.

"Well, it's not technically for Solstice," she said with a sly smile. "I've been working on it for some time now, but I thought, why not give it to you now?" His brow furrowed in confusion, but Gwyn simply chuckled and added, "You'll understand later."

They stood there a moment, transfixed by the magic of the night, neither wanting it to end.

"Well...goodnight, Azriel," Gwyn finally said softly. "Thank you for tonight and this wonderful gift, "she added.

His reply was filled with equal tenderness as he gazed at her with admiration. "Thank you," he whispered.
"It was the first Solstice in years that I truly enjoyed."

He lowered his gaze, a slight tremor in his voice as he added, "Sleep well."

She gave him one last smile, and what a sweet one it was, before slipping inside and closing the door behind her.

Azriel made his way back to his own quarters, carefully carrying Gwyn's gift. Once inside, he shut the door and went to sit on the edge of his bed.
With care, he unwrapped the package. It was indeed a book—a rather thick, hardbound one. The cover was plain black leather.

Frowning slightly, Azriel opened it. The title page read 'AZRIEL: The Untold Story of the Spymaster of the Night Court by Gwyneth Berdara.'
His eyes widened. She wrote a book...a book about him.

With slightly trembling hands, Azriel turned the pages. Gwyn had compiled everything she could find about his history and lineage. There were tales of his exploits in battle and accounts of his spy work across Prythian. Even details about his youth and the abuse he suffered, things he had confessed to her and no one else.

The words on the pages seemed to leap out at Azriel, piercing his heart like shards of glass. They described him in a way he had never dared to see himself - not as an executor of horrific violence, not as a monster, lurking in the shadows, no, he was no villain. In Gwyn's words he was strong, compassionate and caring. A hero, a savior, a protector ...
Azriel had to set the book down as tears blurred his vision.

No one had ever seen him in such a way.

For so long, he had believed himself unworthy of love or understanding, but seeing himself through Gwyn's eyes, he saw more than just a glimmer of hope.
That maybe, just maybe, despite every cruel act he had committed, he wasn't irredeemable after all.

Chapter Text

Azriel's shadows swirled around them as they landed in front of the golden gate of the Day Court. Gwyn stumbled slightly as they touched ground.

Azriel steadied her with a gentle hand on her back. "Careful," he murmured.

Gwyn offered him a small smile in thanks, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. Azriel's chest tightened.

Ever since she'd given him that book for solstice, baring her soul and her view of him in its pages, he'd been a mess. Reading her candid words had cracked something open in him, made him see that she truly cared for the male he was underneath the cold exterior. And it terrified him.

Terrified him how she could make him feel worthy and whole. How she saw past his scars and shadows to the heart he'd locked away for so long. He was so used to wallowing in his own misery, never getting what he wanted, that the thought of real happiness with her was utterly foreign.

He had withdrawn ever since, had pulled a gap between them, which he now did not know how to bridge anymore and Gwyn had obviously felt it.

Azriel cleared his throat, stopping Gwyn before they entered. She turned to him, sunlight catching in her copper hair.

"Gwyn, before we go in, I should warn you about Helion. He's...an incorrigible flirt. No one is safe from his attentions, not even me."

Azriel's jaw tightened as he imagined Helion's hands on Gwyn, his flattering words whispered in her ear. "I know it can be trying. Just remember none of it means anything. He can't help himself." Azriel held her gaze intently. "If it becomes too much, tell me. We'll leave immediately."

Gwyn studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "Why are you telling me this?"

Azriel shuffled his feet, shadows writhing. "I just want you to be prepared. And know that I'm here for you, no matter what."

He wished he could pull her into his arms and never let go. But the distance between them felt like a vast chasm.

When they walked through the gate, the Day Court unfurled before them like a sun-drenched dream, its white marble pillars and gleaming buildings reminiscent of the ancient civilizations Gwyn had only read about in her books. The warm, golden rays of the sun enveloped everything, casting an ethereal glow that seemed to make the very air shimmer around them. Gwyn couldn't help but stare in wonder at the breathtaking beauty surrounding them, her heart fluttering with excitement.

And there, standing at the top of a grand staircase leading up to the palace, was the High Lord of the Day Court himself, Helion Spell-Cleaver. He was just as Azriel had described him: handsome beyond measure, with golden brown skin and onyx hair that framed his strong, chiseled face. His muscular form was draped in gold and white robes that accentuated his godlike presence, and he wore a glimmering crown of golden spikes atop his head.

"My dear Azriel," Helion purred in greeting as he descended the stairs with otherworldly grace. "I did not know you would be bringing your..." His words faltered as his gaze landed on Gwyn. For a moment, something like recognition flashed in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by keen interest.

Azriel tensed imperceptibly beside Gwyn, his gaze flicking between her and the High Lord, as if trying to decipher the meaning behind Helion's sudden change in demeanor. Meanwhile, Gwyn simply gazed up at the powerful fae, captivated by his stunning appearance and the enigmatic aura that surrounded him.

"Your...guest," Helion finally finished, recovering himself quickly and offering Gwyn a dazzling smile that made her heart skip a beat. He moved forward, extending his hand toward her, and she hesitated only a moment before placing her own within it. As he lifted her hand to his lips, Gwyn could have sworn she saw the shadows around Azriel darken ever so slightly.

"Welcome to the Day Court, my dear. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance.“ Helion murmured against her skin, sending shivers down Gwyn's spine despite the warmth of the sun overhead.

Gwyn's cheeks flushed at the contact. "Gwyneth Berdara, my lord."

"Ah, Gwyneth," he repeated, rolling her name off his tongue as if it were a precious gem. His golden eyes lingered on her face, an intrigued smile playing on his lips.

Azriel's patience wore thin as he watched the mesmerizing exchange between Gwyn and Helion. The shadows around him seemed to darken, his jaw clenched and unclenched in silent frustration. Unable to bear it any longer, he cleared his throat loudly, effectively snapping Helion out of his enchantment.

"Ah," Helion said, releasing Gwyn's hand and taking a step back. "Please forgive me if I seemed a bit off, Gwyneth. You just bear a striking resemblance to someone from my past." He gave her a small smile, tinged with melancholy.

"That's quite alright, High Lord," she said softly, though her cheeks still held a faint blush.

"Please, call me Helion," he insisted, his voice like warm honey. Gwyn nodded, seemingly unable to find her voice for a moment.

"I trust your journey was pleasant?“ He then asked Azriel, who stood rigid beside them.

"It was…“ Gwyn began to answer. But Azriel cut in. "Enlightening," his eyes never leaving Helion's face.

Gwyn had been about to say quiet, because it was, since neither Azriel or her had said one single word. There was tension between them and Gwyn couldn't quite understand the cause behind it.

"Perhaps it would be best if we showed you to your rooms, so you can settle in first," Helion suggested. "Afterwards, if you'd like, I could give you a tour of the palace."

Gwyn's face lit up at the prospect, and she eagerly agreed. "I would love that, thank you."

Azriel couldn't help but feel a surge of jealousy course through him as he watched Gwyn beam at Helion, her eyes shining with excitement. He swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth and forced himself to remain calm, knowing there was more at stake than his own feelings. His heart ached with the knowledge that he was keeping secrets from Gwyn, but it was a burden he had to bear for now.

Helion led them through the palace, Gwyn's laughter ringing out like a melody as she discovered new wonders around every corner. Azriel followed behind, his lips pressed into a thin line, the shadows clinging to him like an old friend.

"Here are your chambers," Helion said, gesturing to two ornate doors across from each other. "Please make yourselves at home, and when you're ready, I'll be waiting in the courtyard to show you more of the Day Court."

-

And as the High Lord gave her a tour of his lavish palace, Azriel trailed several paces behind Gwyn and Helion. He stuck out like a shadow amidst the light colors and airy fabrics of the Day Court. Everyone else wore loose, flowing garments in sunny yellows, sky blues, and creamy whites. Azriel's black Illyrian leathers felt stiflingly hot and constricting.

Gwyn's enthusiasm was palpable as Helion led them through the soaring halls of his home, regaling her with tales of its storied history. It was hard not to notice how closely Helion's arm hovered near the small of Gwyn's back, ready to guide her this way and that. Azriel's shadows swirled in agitation around his feet. He knew it was irrational, but he couldn't help the flare of possessiveness that rose within him at the sight.

Mine, his instincts seemed to growl, though he quickly tamped the feeling down. Gwyn wasn't his, and likely never would be. He had no claim over her, no right to be bothered by Helion's harmless flirtations.

Still, Azriel had to grit his teeth when Helion made yet another coy remark, earning a pretty blush from Gwyn. He realized his hands had curled into tight fists and consciously relaxed them.

Azriel tried to focus on the scenery around them rather than the pair in front of him. The Day Court palace was undeniably stunning, all marble columns and glittering gold accents. Vibrant murals depicting scenes of nature and mythology adorned the walls. It reminded Azriel of the frescoes he'd once seen in an ancient temple in the human realm.

As they passed through a sun-drenched courtyard, a building to the left caught his eye. It was smaller than the palace but no less magnificent, with an imposing facade of white stone columns and a triangular pediment. Intricate carvings of laurel leaves and sunbursts decorated the doorway.

Gwyn paused to admire it. "What a beautiful temple," she murmured.

Helion smiled, clearly pleased by her interest. "One of my favorites in the palace complex. It's dedicated to Helios, the primordial god of light."

"I can see why it would appeal to you," Gwyn said with a soft laugh.

She tilted her head thoughtfully. "I'm a priestess, you know. I grew up in Sangravah."

"Are you?" Helion purred. "How delightful. You and I have more in common than I realized."

He guided her closer to the temple entrance, pointing out details in the carvings. Azriel trailed behind, rolling his eyes. He supposed it made sense that Helion would be taken with someone who shared his spiritual calling, but did the High Lord have to be so obvious about his interest?

Azriel sighed, wings shifting. He wished he could whisk Gwyn away right now, save her from Helion's relentless charm offensive. But duty came first. For Gwyn's sake, he would endure.

As they exited the temple back into the palace gardens a good half hour later, Helion said casually, "You know, I have two magnificent pegasi here. Meallan and his mate Liadan. Would you like to meet them, Gwyneth?"

Gwyn's eyes lit up. "Oh, I'd love to! I adore pegasi. Do you ride them often?"

Helion laughed. "All the time, my dear. We can go for a ride together if you'd like."

Before Gwyn could enthusiastically agree, Azriel cut in. "Actually, we're here for research purposes. We need to visit the library before it closes.“

Helion raised an eyebrow, amused by Azriel's sullen tone. "Of course, of course. Duty first, pleasure later. We'll make time for both." He turned back to Gwyn with a dazzling smile.

"Tomorrow I insist on taking you to see the pegasi and go for a ride. Does that suit you, my lady?"

Gwyn beamed. "It sounds wonderful. Thank you, Helion."

Azriel scowled, but held his tongue. This trip was going to test his patience like nothing else.

-

At last they entered the palace library, and Azriel breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Here, among the dusty tomes and scrolls, he and Gwyn could finally get a few minutes away from Helion’s insufferable flirtations.

Gwyn couldn't contain her awe. Shelves stacked with countless ancient tomes and scrolls stretched as far as the eye could see. Intricate murals depicting Prythian's rich history adorned the domed ceilings and marble pillars. Sunlight streamed in from skylights, illuminating the place in a warm glow.

She drifted towards the nearest shelf, fingers trailing reverently over the weathered spines and gilded lettering.

"This is incredible," she breathed.

Gwyn's smile faded as she glanced around the vast library. "Where do we even start?" she murmured, a crease forming between her brows.

Azriel stepped forward. "I'll show you the sections on ancient histories," he said gently.

As they browsed through the stacks and stacks of books, Gwyn glanced over at Azriel. "What's your issue with Lord Helion? He's been nothing but welcoming and charming."

Azriel huffed. "Welcoming and charming? Incorrigible flirt, that's what he is."

Gwyn raised an eyebrow. "Jealous, are we?"

"What? No." Azriel avoided her gaze, focusing intently on the book in his hand.

"Uh huh." Gwyn wasn't convinced. "You know, I don't understand you sometimes."

Azriel finally met her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well ever since Solstice, you've been...different. Distant. Like you're avoiding me. "

Azriel clenched his jaw. She wasn't wrong. He had been keeping his distance

"That's not..." he started weakly, but Gwyn barreled on. "Have I done something?“

"Noo!“ He claimed a bit to loud.

"And now here, the way you're acting, all moody and irritable. Helion has shown nothing but kindness, and you're snarling at him like some territorial beast." She shook her head in frustration.

Azriel's shadows swirled in agitation around him. "It's not about territory," he bit out. "It's just - he's always like this, with everyone. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about his intentions."

"I'm not a child, Azriel. I can handle myself."

"Clearly not, if you're so easily charmed by his flowery words and empty flattery," Azriel retorted bitterly.

Gwyn's eyes flashed with anger. "You're one to talk about empty flattery. What about all your mooning over Mor for the past centuries? And Elain ?“ And her… apparently.

Azriel flinched, stung by her words. "That's not the same. I know Helion -"

"Will you two keep it down?" An older priestess hissed at them from across the library. "This is a place of study, not for bickering."

Gwyn flushed, embarrassed at being chastened so publicly. Azriel just glowered, sinking back into his brooding silence. After a few more fruitless minutes, Gwyn sighed and closed her book.

"I'm going to get ready for dinner," she said coolly. "Let me know if you actually find anything useful."

She swept out of the library, leaving Azriel alone with his turbulent thoughts.

Gwyn made her way back to the guest quarters, still fuming from her argument with Azriel. That arrogant, overprotective fool. She didn't need him policing her interactions or judging her character.

She was so preoccupied that she didn't even notice the servant until she nearly collided with her in the hallway.

"Oh! Pardon me," Gwyn exclaimed.

The female servant, lovely as a sunrise with her burnished brown skin and amber eyes, simply smiled. "No need to apologize, my lady. I've been sent to provide you with more suitable attire for your stay here, if you wish."

Gwyn blinked in surprise, looking down at her simple robes. The weighty material was already making her sweat in the Day Court's bright warmth.

"His Highness is too kind," she murmured. "I would be grateful for something cooler to wear."

The servant nodded, holding up the gossamer gown draped over her arm. It was a shimmering ivory, shot through with threads of gold. Gwyn reached out to touch it reverently, the fabric as light as a whisper. She had never worn anything so fine.

As she followed the servant to her room to try it on, Gwyn wondered how Azriel was faring in his heavy Illyrian leathers. He must be sweltering, the stubborn brute. She felt a twinge of concern for him, despite their quarrel.

A bit later Azriel stood stiffly as Helion poured them both a glass of honeyed wine. He accepted it wordlessly, shadows still swirling in agitation.

Helion raised an eyebrow. "Come now, Azriel. Let us speak openly, you and I." He took a slow sip of wine. "You care for her."

It wasn't a question. Azriel's jaw tightened. "She is my friend."

"Hmm." Helion's golden eyes were knowing. "Rhysand's letter didn’t give much away, but now upon meeting her..." His voice softened. "She reminds me so much of my mate."

Azriel stared at him. "You believe she is descended from the Lady of the Autumn Court?"

"I can scent it in her blood, unmistakably." Helion swirled the wine in his glass pensively. "And I sensed the spark of fire in her too, though untrained. Has she manifested any gifts?"

Azriel hesitated. "When she sings, she...glows. We think it may be siren magic of some kind."

"Fascinating." Helion looked intrigued. "Well, perhaps I can help draw out her talents, during her time here."

Azriel opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, the servant returned. And Gwyn was with her.

Azriel's words died on his tongue as he took in the vision before him. The gown flowed over Gwyn's slender curves like molten gold, its sheer sleeves leaving the graceful lines of her arms bare. Her collarbones peeked out from the shimmering fabric, and the graceful column of her neck begged to be kissed. Azriel's mouth went dry.

Gwyn flushed under both males' intense stares. "Thank you again, my lord. I've never had such finery."

Helion took her hand and brushed his lips to her knuckles. "The gown pales in comparison to the beauty wearing it."

Azriel crossed his arms, irritation flaring. "Laying it on a bit thick, aren't you Helion?"

Gwyn shot him an exasperated look, but Helion just laughed. "Come now, even you cannot deny she is utterly stunning."

Azriel's throat tightened. No, he really couldn't deny it at all. She was breathtaking. But he had known that from the start, hadn't he.

"Shall we go down to dinner?" Helion extended his arm to Gwyn with an inviting smile.

She took it, glancing uncertainly at Azriel. He gave her a slight nod, tamping down the irrational surge of jealousy twisting his gut.

As they made their way to the grand dining hall, Azriel trailed behind, observing Helion lean in close to speak to Gwyn in low, intimate tones. She laughed at something he said, the sound light and musical.

At dinner, he picked at his food sullenly as Helion entertained Gwyn with lively stories and clever quips that had her utterly charmed. The High Lord was on his best behavior, yet Azriel bristled every time he gazed at Gwyn for a beat too long or found an excuse to touch her hand.

"You're rather quiet tonight, Shadowsinger," Helion remarked. "I hope all is well?"

Azriel met his teasing eyes and had to refrain from growling. "Just tired from the journey," he bit out.

Gwyn gave him a puzzled look at his tone but said nothing. After the meal ended, Helion invited her to walk with him in the gardens. Azriel wanted to object, but held his tongue with effort.

As they strolled away, Azriel stared broodingly into the darkness. He knew he was being unreasonable, but he couldn't seem to help it. The thought of Helion's hands on Gwyn, even innocently, filled him with a possessive fury he'd never felt before.

Chapter Text

Gwyn's fingers trailed along the dusty spines of ancient tomes, their leather bindings cracked with age. She scanned titles etched in fading gold leaf and glossaries for any mention of Fionn, Enalius, Gwydion, Truthteller or anything relatable. Nothing. After hours of searching, she had found nothing.

Sighing, she slid another book back into place.

Frustration mounting, she glanced over at Azriel, his imposing figure cloaked in shadows. He stood motionless, those burning hazel eyes following her every move.

"I don't understand," she huffed, blowing a strand of her hair from her eyes. "How can there be nothing about them? They're legendary."

Azriel's full lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile. "Not everything ends up in a book." His voice was a deep rumble that sent a shiver down her spine, "And not everything should."

She cocked an eyebrow at him. Oh really? Was this still about their research or her Solstice gift. Cause somehow, Gwyn had the feeling that his withdrawl started with that.

Sensing her thoughts he tried to lift the mood. "Besides we've only just begun." he said gently. "Have faith."

She turned, fiery hair spilling over her shoulder. "Faith?" She laughed, a husky sound that quickened his pulse. "You sound like Clotho."

Azriel's lip twitched. "Perish the thought."

They shared a smile that faded too quickly. The shadows around him pulsed, eager to touch the bright spirit before them. But he held them back, not daring to overstep.

Gwyn brushed past him, close enough for her scent to hit him. His body tensed, shadows straining toward her. To have her so near, yet just out of reach...it was a sweet torture.

"Azriel?" Her voice was soft, tentative. His name on her lips both thrilled and pained him.

He turned, shadows swirling. She looked up at him with an unreadable expression. For a moment, neither spoke. The shadows held their breath, sensing the tension that arced between them like lightning.

"Yes?" he managed, his voice rough.

Gwyn's eyes searched his face. "Do you really think we'll find anything here?"

Azriel hesitated. He wanted to shield her from disappointment, yet he couldn't bring himself to lie.

"No," he admitted quietly. "But that doesn't mean we should stop looking."

Gwyn considered this, chewing her lip. The shadows trembled, undone by such a simple gesture.

"You're right," she said finally. "We have to keep trying."

Azriel nodded, relief washing through him.

Gwyn offered a small smile that lit the space between them. "Now, help me get these books down."

She pointed up to a top shelf, well out of her reach. Azriel's shadows leapt forward eagerly, hungry to be of use.

After they had settled down with books of the history of Illyria, Azriel found himself having a hard time to focus again. Gwyn was engrossed in a large book, absently tucking back strands of coppery hair as she read. Sunlight streamed through the windows, catching in her hair and making it shimmer.

Azriel's fingers twitched, longing to be the ones sweeping back those errant strands, to feel their softness between his rough, scarred hands. He clenched his fists, fighting the urge. Ever since Winter Solstice, this unnamed thing between them had been growing, no matter how hard he tried to resist it. He felt himself drowning in emotions he didn't know how to handle.

With a sigh, he got up from his seat and turned to the shelf in front of him. He had to stay focused, for Gwyn's sake. There were still too many unanswered questions surrounding her, too many potential dangers. Until he uncovered the truth about her and her powers, she would never be fully safe.

Footsteps approached down the aisle. Azriel tensed, shadows writhing, before he recognized Helion's languid stride. The High Lord raised an eyebrow at Azriel's defensive posture.

"My apologies," Azriel muttered, forcing his shoulders to relax.

Helion waved a hand. "No need. I often forget how jumpy you Illyrians can be." His golden eyes slid past Azriel to Gwyn. "I thought I might convince your lovely friend to take a break. My stables have two occupants that wish to meet her."

At the mention of the pegasi, Gwyn's head jerked up, eyes lighting with interest. Azriel crossed his arms, irritation flaring.

"As I already mentioned, we're here for research purposes first and foremost."

"Come now, Shadowsinger, even you must rest your wings now and then," Helion cajoled.

Upon seeing Gwyn's hopeful expression, he gave in. "Fine!"

-

The pegasi were a sight to behold.

Azriel watched as Gwyn continued to fawn over the winged horses, running her hands through their manes and whispering praise and sweet nothings.

She was different here - more open, more at ease, as if the sunshine had coaxed something new to unfurl within her. Despite his simmering envy, seeing her joy brought him a measure of peace. She deserved this chance to experience more of the world beyond libraries and temples.

Helion sidled up next to Azriel, following his gaze to Gwyn. "She's quite something, isn't she?" he murmured.

Azriel tensed. "Yes. She is."

"Rarely have I encountered someone who shines so bright, yet contains such hidden depths," Helion continued. "Like a jewel with innumerable facets."

Azriel said nothing, shadows curling tighter in response to the flare of possessiveness in his gut.

Helion glanced at him sidelong. "You care for her a great deal."

That question again... this time Azriel answered though. "I do."

Gwyn's eyes shone as she gently stroked the snout of one of the animals, murmuring soft words to it. The winged horse nickered affectionately in response.

Helion moved to stand beside Gwyn, also watching the tender exchange. "They seem quite taken with you," he remarked.

Gwyn glanced over with a smile. "The feeling is mutual. They're extraordinary."

"Indeed. Did you know pegasi love music? I've no doubt they would be delighted to hear you sing."

A becoming blush stained Gwyn's cheeks at the compliment. "You're too kind, my lord. I'm sure my voice would only frighten them away."

Helion waved a dismissive hand. "Nonsense. Our shadowy friend here has spoken to me of your lovely singing voice. Isn't that right, Azriel?"

Azriel started slightly at being addressed. "I, uh...may have mentioned it in passing," he said, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

Gwyn's brows lifted in surprise. "High praise coming from you."

Azriel met her gaze. "Only the truth."

The sincerity in his voice made Gwyn's blush deepen. She quickly turned back to the pegasus in front of her.

"Well, far be it from me to deny such a captive audience." She hesitated only a moment more before lifting her chin and launching into a haunting, melodic song.

Azriel instantly recognized the melody of one of her priestess songs he'd once heard her sing in the House of Wind. Her voice soared high and pure, imbuing the ancient lyrics with poignant new life.

The pegasi stilled, ears pricked forward as they listened intently. Azriel's shadows quieted as well, lulled by the spell of her voice. Even Helion seemed enthralled, his usual restless energy calmed.

When the last note faded, Gwyn shyly lowered her eyes. The pegasi whickered softly and nudged against her in wordless appreciation.

Helion let out an astonished breath. "Remarkable," he murmured. "Simply remarkable."

Azriel said nothing, but the awe and pride in his gaze spoke volumes. Gwyn's gift never failed to move him. She ducked her head at their regard, equal parts pleased and self-conscious.

Azriel trailed a few steps behind as Helion escorted Gwyn back towards the palace, chatting lightly about the history of the pegasi and their affinity for music. Though he kept up an outward show of interest, Azriel's thoughts were far away, lost in contemplation of the strange spell Gwyn seemed able to cast with her voice.

He'd witnessed it before, the way her singing could utterly transfix those who heard it, himself included. Yet this was the first time he'd seen her gift affect animals so profoundly.

What did it mean?

The sound of Gwyn's laughter drew him from his musings. Helion had said something amusing, earning a smile that lit up her lovely face. Azriel frowned slightly, an unwelcome pang of jealousy piercing him at the easy rapport between them.

It was irrational, he knew. Helion was simply being a gracious host and trying to help them detect something about her powers. Still, Azriel couldn't deny the urge to step closer, to insert himself between them. Instead, he clenched his jaw and remained where he was, silently following them into the cool, columned interior of the palace.

Chapter Text

Azriel trailed behind Helion and Gwyn as they strolled arm-in-arm through the sun-drenched palace gardens, weaving between bursts of vibrant flowers and gurgling fountains.

It had been like this for days now. Mornings spent hunched over ancient tomes in the library with Gwyn, afternoons wasted indulging the High Lord's frivolous walks and inane small talk.

At least their research was actually proving fruitful. Between combing through crumbling manuscripts, they had unearthed promising leads about the magical properties of certain Illyrian blades. But with each cloying smile and casual caress Helion bestowed upon Gwyn, Azriel's patience waned.

"Well now," Helion said, "why don't you tell me a little bit more about yourself, Gwyneth? I must confess, I'm quite intrigued by you."

Gwyn ducked her head. "Oh, I'm not that interesting. Just a priestess."

"Somehow I doubt that." Helion's voice was low and smooth. "A female of your radiance rarely goes unnoticed in this world."

Gwyn's cheeks reddened at the compliment, while Azriel couldn’t help himself but huff once more.

"Come now, Shadowsinger." Helion shot him a sly look. "Don’t you agree?“

Azriel gritted his teeth, barely containing a snarl at Helion's flirtatious behavior towards Gwyn. "I do," he forced out through clenched teeth. "But your constant advances are nothing but annoying."

Gwyn glanced between Helion and Azriel, sensing the tension.

"Lord Helion has been nothing but gracious to me," she interjected, trying to diffuse the growing animosity. "Much more than I can say for someone else."

Azriel's nostrils flared. Helion let out a deep laugh.

"My dear, you'll find the Shadowsinger is seldom comfortable outside his element of shadows and spying. Though I admit, seeing him thus discomfited is rather amusing."

Azriel's eyes narrowed to slits. Gwyn gave him a reproving look before turning back to Helion with a smile.

"Well, as I was saying, I've lived a quiet life in Sangravah. My mother was a priestess before and my sister and I followed in her footsteps. In my free time, I enjoy reading, training, and stargazing. And of course, singing is my passion. That's about it really."

Helion then asked about her father, causing Gwyn's smile to falter. "I never knew him; my mother never spoke of him."

Helion understood and reassured her, "It doesn't matter who your parents are. You are defined by your choices."

A sense of warmth spread through her chest at his words while Azriel still looked like he wanted to throttle the High Lord.

"The Cressian lilies are lovely this time of year, are they not?" Helion gestured to the trumpet-shaped blooms, their petals blushing pink in the sunlight.

Gwyn smiled politely. "Quite lovely, indeed."

Azriel gritted his teeth, flexing his scarred hands.

Helion continued nattering about the gardens, one hand resting casually on Gwyn's lower back. Azriel's stare bored into the back of the High Lord's head, willing him to remove his offensive touch. The shadows seethed beneath Azriel's skin, pulsing in time to his pounding heart.

This continued as they meandered along the garden path, Helion's hand migrating lower as he droned on. Azriel clenched his fists, jaw tight. His shadows begged for release, to tear Helion's arm away and wrap Gwyn in their dark embrace instead.

At last Helion steered Gwyn toward a stone bench nestled amidst the flowers. "Come, rest your feet a moment."

Azriel's shadows whipped violently around him as Helion ran a hand down Gwyn's back for the third time that afternoon. Before he could get a grip of the the emotion that overwhelmed him, he snapped.

"Remove your hand," Azriel bit out through gritted teeth, "or I'll remove it for you."

Helion turned lazily, arching an eyebrow. "Oh? Have I overstepped?" The question was addressed to Gwyn, but she didn't get the chance to answer.

Azriel's jaw clenched. "You're being inappropriate."

"Am I?" Helion purred. "Perhaps it is you who are being inappropriate, threatening your host."

Azriel's fists tightened, darkness swarming his hands. "Gwyn is not some plaything for your amusement."

With a lazy wave of his hand, Helion summoned two beautiful female servants to his side. One had flowing blonde hair and hazel eyes, baring a painful resemblance to Mor.

"It seems the Day Court heat has addled his mind," Helion purred as the females eyed Azriel's muscular body. "Perhaps a bath would cool that fiery temper of our Illyrian friend.“

The servants took Azriel's arms gently, attempting to lead him away.

"Unhand me," Azriel growled, wings flaring wide as he glared at Helion. Their hands dropped away immediately.

"I'll not leave her alone with the likes of you," Azriel growled.

Helion arched a brow. "This is an order, Azriel. Go. Bathe. You reek of sweat and frustration." His eyes danced with amusement. "Unless there's another reason you protest my attentions towards Gwyneth?"

Azriel hesitated, glancing back at Gwyn's anxious face, her eyes wide with an expression he could not quite name.

"Go," Helion commended again. "And change those leathers for something less warm while you are at it.“ Azriel's jaw tightened with barely contained rage, but he had no choice. This was Helion's Court and he had to obey.

"See that the shadowsinger is properly cared for," Helion purred with a vulgar grin and then the servants grasped Azriel's arms again. With a resigned sigh, he allowed them to lead him off, already regretting his loss of control.

Azriel grit his teeth as the servants ushered him into a lavish bathing chamber.

They began preparing the bath, their movements slow and sensual as they eyed Azriel hungrily. One came up behind him, her hands sliding over his shoulders.

"Let me help you out of these leathers," she purred, her fingers dancing along the clasps.

Azriel spun, grasping her wrists. "Please stop," he said, a pleading note in his voice. "I'll undress myself.“ The female pouted prettily but backed away, moving to disrobe herself.

Azriel spun around, a blush staining his cheeks.

"Don't," he said, voice strained. "Just...just go. I'll bathe alone.“

With a bow, they quickly departed, leaving Azriel alone, who sagged in relief.

Stripping off his leathers, he willed his pounding heart to calm. Gwyn was strong - she would put Helion in his place if he tried anything untoward.

He sank into the perfumed water, sighing as the coldness calmed his heated nerves.

Maybe he had been in need of a bath after all ...

If it wasn't the way Helion had ordered him to do it and his stupid insinuation to take "proper care" of him.

He should never have left her alone with that lecherous prick. Who knew what vulgar nonsense he was whispering in her ear right now?

Azriel dunked his head under the water, as if he could drown the unwanted thoughts. But they kept rising back up despite his efforts.

What if Helion made a move on Gwyn? What if his flowery words and honeyed tongue wore down her resistance? Azriel's jaw clenched at the thought. Shadows swirled in the water around him, mirroring the storm building within.

He had to get back to her. Now.

Azriel rose swiftly from the pool. Helion may be High Lord, but if he laid one misplaced finger on Gwyn, rank be damned - Azriel would end him.

Chapter Text

Gwyn watched in dismay as Azriel allowed himself to be led away, glancing over his shoulder at her one last time before disappearing from view.

"Was that really necessary?" she asked. "He meant no harm."

Helion waved a dismissive hand. "He needs to learn his place."

The High Lord leaned in a bit, eyes gleaming. "I guarantee when he returns, that tension will be nicely eased." She caught up on the innuendo and blinding jealousy rose in Gwyn at the thought of Azriel with those females.

Helion continued blithely. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, I was just about to tell you ..."

But Gwyn hardly heard him over the roaring in her ears. Azriel, at the mercy of Helion's servants. She knew it was irrational - she had no claim over him - yet the thought of him intimate with another made her ill.

She kept trying to focus on Helion's light chatter, but her mind kept straying to imagined scenes of Azriel, water sluicing over smooth golden skin, strong hands caressing over curves and dips...

"Are you alright?" Helion eventually asked, noticing her absent state of mind.

"Yes, yes, of course," Gwyn said hurriedly. "It's just rather…warm."

Helion gave her a knowing look that made her insides squirm. "Maybe you need to cool off too,“ he said lightly.

Gwyn gritted her teeth. The thought of Azriel with those women was driving her mad. She needed to see him, to make sure...

"Forgive me, I'm feeling a bit faint. I think I'll go freshen up," Gwyn said, rising abruptly.

Helion waved a hand. "By all means. I'll be here should you need me."

Gwyn hurried from the gardens, nearly running in her haste. She had no idea what she would do when she found Azriel, only that she couldn't bear not knowing what was happening between him and those servants.

She rushed down the corridor toward the bathing hall, heart pounding. She had no idea where to even begin looking for Azriel in the sprawling complex.

She had no plan, no thought beyond finding him. Had no idea of what she would do should she find him tangled with another.

Gwyn tore through the halls, heart hammering against her ribs. She imagined him bare-chested, water sluicing down the hard planes of his stomach, the scars on his hands. Imagined delicate fingers tracing those scars, his wings, as he...

Gwyn moved deeper into the bathing hall, peering into alcoves and around columns.

There - rounding another corner, she spotted one of the females that had led him away, leaning casually against a wall near a private pool chamber. And it was not the blonde one, with curves that reminded Gwyn painfully of Morrigan.

Was she inside with him?

Gwyn trembled, fists clenched. The rage inside her was otherworldly. She contemplated simply walking away, but some masochistic part of her needed to see it with her own eyes. Needed to witness Azriel tangled in passion with this golden-haired beauty.

"Is he in there?" she demanded.

The servant nodded, eyes widening at the fury in Gwyn's expression. Without another thought, Gwyn threw open the door.

But the scene that met her was far from what she expected.

Azriel stood alone in the middle of the chamber, drying himself hurriedly. His wings were partially unfurled, water droplets glistening on his muscular back.

At the sound of the door, he turned, surprise flickering across his stoic face.

For a moment, they simply stared at each other, both frozen in place. Gwyn's eyes involuntarily raked over Azriel's bare chest, taking in the scars and tattoos marking his golden skin before snapping back up to meet his intense gaze. His shadows swirled in agitation around him.

Azriel recovered first, hastily wrapping the towel around his waist.

"Gwyn?" Azriel straightened, wings still slightly spread with water droplets clinging to the membranous skin. "What happened? Are you alright?“

The care in his tone nearly undid her. Gwyn shook her head mutely, humiliation burning through her. What had possessed her to go storming in here like some jealous…

"Gwyn? What's wrong?" His voice was gravelly with concern. He took a half step toward her, then seemed to remember his state of undress and paused uncertainly.

She managed to breathe out a "Nothing“, before her eyes found his body again. Following the trail of dark hair that disappeared beneath the towel. Desire coiled hotly inside her.

She needed to leave immediately.

Gwyn's face flooded with heat and she spun on her heel. "Sorry," she blurted, before rushing from the room in mortification, berating herself for jumping to conclusions.

She heard Azriel call her name, but didn't stop until she was back to her own chambers. Back pressed to her door, she took a deep, steadying breath. Azriel was alone. He had not taken that servant...

The relief washing over her was so acute it startled her. She examined the feeling, realizing with dawning horror that it went far deeper than friendly concern.

What was happening to her?

These foreign urges, this possessiveness...it was as if someone else had taken control of her body and mind. Gwyn pressed a hand to her pounding heart.

Somehow, against all reason, she had fallen for the shadowsinger. And hard.

Later that evening, Gwyn made her way to the dining hall, stomach knotted with nerves at the thought of seeing Azriel again after her odd behavior. When she arrived, Helion was already there, deep in conversation with a few other High Fae. But Azriel was nowhere to be seen.

Just as she began to wonder if he'd decided not to come, the double doors opened and Azriel strode in. Gwyn's mouth went dry.

He was dressed in flowing white pants and an open-collared shirt in shades of gold and amber, the colors of the Day Court. The clothing hugged the muscular lines of his body in a way his Illyrian leathers did not. His wings were tucked in, his dark hair falling rakishly over his brow. He looked like some exotic prince.

Beside her, even Helion went silent, openly staring. Azriel's eyes found Gwyn's, and she saw faint color rise on his sharp cheekbones. But he held her gaze as he approached them.

"Good evening," he said in his deep, smooth voice.

"Good evening," Gwyn managed to reply, hoping he couldn't hear how hard her heart was pounding. She'd always known he was beautiful, but like this...he was devastating.

Helion let out an approving laugh. "Well, aren't you a sight! I knew Day Court attire would suit you. But this…"

Azriel's mouth quirked. "Yes, amazing what a bath and a change of clothes can do."

Heat flooded Gwyn's face at the memory. But Helion just chuckled and clapped Azriel on the back.

"Come, let's eat."

As they moved to take their seats, Gwyn snuck another look at Azriel, unable to take her eyes off him.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, when she settled down in the chair next to him. "I don't know what came over me."

Azriel studied her, shadows wreathing his broad shoulders. "Did something happen with Helion after I left?"

Gwyn shook her head. How could she explain that wild rush of jealousy, the wretched thought of him in another female's arms?

"No, nothing happened. I just..." She faltered, grasping for words.

Azriel leaned in closer and his scent hit her like a crashing wave. "You know you can tell me anything, Gwyn. I'm here for you, no matter what."

The open collar of his white tunic revealed a teasing glimpse of his golden-brown chest. She forced her gaze away, focusing intently on the empty plate before her, though the image of water beading over hard muscle was seared into her mind forever.

She had to get through this dinner without making a fool of herself again.

"So Helion," someone on Gwyn’s left started, "any progress with the border negotiations?"

Helion smiled, easy and relaxed. "We've hit a few snags, but I'm confident we'll reach an agreement soon." He launched into a humorous anecdote about a misunderstanding involving figs that had most of the guests chuckling.

But Gwyn was barely listening, hyperaware of Azriel's proximity. His arm brushed hers as he reached for his wine glass, sending lightning skittering across her skin.

There was this ache to reach out and trace the scars on his hands, to feel his calloused skin against her own. The knowledge that they had already been that close once, yet now it seemed out of reach, made Gwyn endlessly sad.

How had they gone from being so close to now feeling like mere acquaintances?

What had happened? And why did she feel like she was about to go insane the more he distanced himself from her?

Azriel's shadows fluttered restlessly, almost as if they could hear her thoughts.

He leaned in slightly, his breath warm on her ear."Are you truly alright?"

Gwyn shivered, nodding mutely. She didn't trust her voice. Not when he was so close, enveloping her in his scent. Night chilled mist and cedar and something distinctly male, but not uncomfortable so. Quite the opposite actually.

She pressed her thighs together beneath the table, cursing the desire coiling hot and tight inside her.

Gwyn took a long sip of wine, hoping the alcohol would dull this particular ache. But as she set her glass down, her hand brushed against his again and all was lost.

His shadows swirled in response, whispering over her skin like a lover's caress. Gwyn shivered and Azriel's eyes darkened, fixated on the rapid flutter of her pulse in her neck. He knew exactly what effect he was having on her. He must.

Under the table, his knee pressed against hers. Gwyn bit back a gasp, grabbing the edge of the table to steady herself.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Azriel murmured. "You're trembling."

She took another gulp of wine, but his nearness, his scent, the memory of his body...it was too much. She needed space, needed air.

Gwyn set her wine glass down with a clatter and stood abruptly. "Excuse me, I'm feeling a bit faint. I need some air."

Helion paused mid-laugh to frown at her in concern. "Again? You must have caught a nasty bug." Some of the other guests tittered in amusement.

Before anyone else could respond, she hurried from the dining hall.

"I'll go check on her," Azriel said quietly, rising from his seat before Helion could protest. His shadows swirled in agitation, mirroring the storm in his heart.

Once outside in the cool night air, Gwyn gulped lungfuls of it gratefully. Her skin still tingled everywhere. She pressed a hand to her racing heart, trying to calm its frantic beat. What was happening to her?

Footsteps sounded behind her and then Azriel's rich voice. "What is up?"

Gwyn shut her eyes briefly. There was no escaping this. Slowly she turned to face him, pulse leaping at the naked concern on his handsome face.

"I'm fine," she managed.

"You are not.“ Azriel stated bluntly. "What happened earlier? Why did you burst in like that," he demanded, his gaze intense.

"I can't," Gwyn blushed, covering her face with her hands.

"Why not?" Azriel pressed on.

"Because it's silly," she mumbled.

"Tell me," he urged. It was a clear demand yet his voice was gentle.

"I thought...I thought you and those servants were..." Gwyn trailed off, unable to finish her sentence or look at him.

Understanding dawned in Azriel's eyes. "You thought I'd bedded them."

Gwyn's blush deepened but she nodded, still avoiding his gaze.

Azriel's voice was a low, fervent whisper as he breathed out her name like a prayer. Gwyn's gaze snapped up to his, locking onto the intense fire burning in his eyes. She couldn't tear her eyes away as he prowled towards her, unable to resist the pull between them a second longer.

Gwyn's cheeks were flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly, as Azriel's hands camp up to cup her face with a gentle yet possessive touch.

"I don’t think we can pretend there's nothing between us any longer."

Gwyn's breath caught in her throat at his words, her senses overwhelmed by the raw emotions emanating from him.

Azriel held her gaze unflinchingly, allowing her to see the truth of his feelings laid bare.

He was done hiding, done with secrets.

A tremor ran through Gwyn's body as she tried to find the words to express herself. Conflicting emotions danced across her porcelain features - uncertainty, desire, and fear.

But as his eyes dropped to her parted lips, all of them disappeared. Tentatively, Gwyn reached for him.

Her delicate hands pressed against his chest, feeling the thudding beat of his heart that belonged to her and her only; but she did not know that yet.

Everything else faded into oblivion.

When her heady scent hit him, it took all of his willpower to not give into that voice that had been telling him to claim what was rightfully his for days now.

No. He wouldn’t … couldn’t do that. Not until he wasn’t sure she felt the same.

This angel in front of him … he was thoroughly bewitched by her. And as she gazed up at him, Azriel knew. Knew that it was over - that he was a goner.

"Gwyn," her name escapes him like hoarse whisper, before he slowly, ever so slowly - mindful to give her time to move away - lowered his lips to hers.

But when they touched, Gwyn didn’t move away, no … she yielded completely.

His kiss was achingly tender, nothing like what she'd imagined. One hand moved to the back of her head, while the other settled at her waist, respectfully light.

Gwyn sank into him, her own hands trailing up the hard muscles of his chest. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she readily opened for him.

The kiss deepened and she lost herself in him completely; in the way he felt, the way he tasted and in his scent. A low groan escaped Azriel as her fingers raked down his back, causing his wings to flare in response. Oh mother, how she wanted to do that again.

But then suddenly, there were footsteps approaching and someone calling for them. Helion.

They broke apart abruptly.

Chapter Text

Helion leaned back in his chair, gazing at the Shadowsinger and the priestess before him. It had been obvious from the moment they had arrived that they were bound by a thread spun from the fabric of fate itself.

Mates. Azriel and Gwyn were mates.

Helion had barely swallowed back the words when he first laid eyes on her, realizing just in time, that they were oblivious to what pulled them together.
It wouldn't be the first time though, he'd accidentally revealed a mating bond. At least he caught himself this time. Mates that were not ready to know, were a thing he did not want to reckon with…
Still, it would have been interesting to see their reactions. Shock, certainly. Denial, perhaps. But underneath it all - relief. Maybe joy.

Helion rubbed his temple. He missed that feeling. Missed his mate, the Lady of the Autumn Court. Missed her more with each passing decade they were forced apart.
He focused his gaze on Gwyn again as she spoke with Azriel, admiring her beauty. She bore such a striking resemblance to his mate that it made his heart ache.

They shared the same coppery hair, falling in waves over their shoulders, down their backs. The same fair skin, dotted with freckles. The same petite yet curvy figure. But it was more than appearances - it was her spirit. Her warmth. The way she lit up a room just by existing in it.

His mate had possessed that same light. Before Beron snuffed it out.

But now was not the time to dwell on the past. He studied the couple before him, noting how the Shadowsinger's eyes followed Gwyn's every movement. How he leaned toward her, as if drawn by some invisible tether. It was so obvious. Obvious to everyone but them.

Helion sighed. He knew he should have been focusing on assessing Gwyn's powers, but he found himself increasingly distracted by the emotional undercurrents swirling between her and Azriel. Their bond pulsing between them, stronger than any magic. He could feel it - a steady thrumming that grew louder whenever they drew close. It drowned out all else, even Gwyn's own abilities.

How could he explain that to Azriel without revealing too much? That she must be separated from him for a time, so Helion could properly gauge her strength?

Earlier today he had arranged a diversion with care, a ploy veiled in hospitality. It was an opportunity to isolate Gwyn, hoping that without the Shadowsinger's brooding presence, her latent power might easier show itself.

Yet, even the best-laid schemes could wilt under the heat of unforeseen desires. The subtle tension that had only danced at the periphery had taken center stage, manifesting not in magic, but in the undeniable flare of jealousy from Gwyn. Helion's lips quirked upward; this display had had its own allure, a rawness he hadn't anticipated but found rather captivating. To be young and ensnared by love's chaotic dance again...

When Gwyn rose, her voice unsteady as she excused herself, Helion's senses sharpened. He caught the scent of blossoming arousal that clung to her like dew on morning blooms—a scent mirrored by Azriel when he, too, stood to follow her into the evening's embrace. The air was thick with it, sweet and heady, and Helion felt the pull of their connection keenly.

He lingered for a moment, watching Azriel's retreating form, the shadows that clung to him seeming to stretch out toward Gwyn like tendrils seeking sunlight. Helion knew he would find them entwined in an alcove later, hearts beating in tandem, breaths mingling in the cool night air.

With the grace of one who has walked the world for eons, Helion rose, finding them exactly how he had envisioned it moments ago.

Their faces were inches apart, lips swollen from their passionate exchange. Gwyn's azure eyes were wide in surprise, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Azriel, too, looked disoriented, the shadows around him flickering with agitation.

"Ah, there you are," Helion drawled, his voice smooth despite the interruption. "I need to speak to you, Azriel."

Azriel blinked, still reeling from the kiss that had stolen all coherence from his thoughts. "Can we... can we talk later?" His voice came out hoarse and uncertain, betraying his reluctance to leave Gwyn.

Helion shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm afraid it needs to be now." He could see the conflict in Azriel's golden-brown eyes.

Reluctantly, he untangled himself from Gwyn, whispering something softly, while his fingertips trailed down her arm as he pulled away. One more time Azriel's gaze fell on her kiss-swollen lips before he followed Helion down the hall.

Once in the study, Helion poured them both a drink. He studied the shadowsinger over the rim of his glass—the mussed hair, wrinkled tunic, flushed cheeks.

"Sit," Helion commanded, gesturing to a plush chair across from his own. He obeyed.

"Look, Azriel," Helion began, his voice measured and cautious, "I understand your feelings for Gwyn are... intense. But you must not let them cloud your judgment during this trip."

"Is that what this is about?" Azriel frowned, a spark of irritation igniting within him. "Why does my involvement with Gwyn make any difference?"

"Feelings can be powerful distractions," Helion replied. "And given the nature of your... connection, it may prove to be a hindrance in our attempts to understand Gwyn's true potential."

"Connection?" Azriel echoed, his heart pounding like a caged beast in his chest. "What do you mean by that?"

Helion hesitated, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Gwyn's powers seem to be disturbed by a … blockage. And I believe it has something to do with you."

"With me?," Azriel asked defensively. "If you think I would stand in the way of her overcoming whatever trauma she has, you don't know me at all."

"Perhaps not," Helion conceded, leaning back in his chair. "But I have seen how such 'connections' can complicate matters. It is best to tread carefully, Shadowsinger."

Azriel's thoughts swirled with confusion and frustration, his emotions threatening to overwhelm him once again.

"I don't understand," he mumbled, "Why do you want me to keep a ... distance from her?"

"Because she is distracted," Helion declared. "A force of such magnitude, restrained and uncharted...it could turn unpredictable if we can't get through to it in time."

Azriel stiffened, his shadows twisting in agitation. "Gwyn is no danger. I won't stand by while she's marked as one."

Helion raised a pacifying hand. "Calm yourself, shadowsinger. I harbor no ill intentions towards the girl. However, your High Lord will require reassurance. We must deliberate on how to offer it."
Azriel gave a slight nod, the request still grating against his instincts. Yet Helion had a point - persuading Rhys was crucial. A frown tugged at Azriel's lips; he was torn between his deep affection for Gwyn and his unwavering loyalty to Rhysand and the Night Court. "We can...weigh our options later," he said haltingly, "But I won't pressure or put her in harm's way. Gwyn's welfare is paramount."

"Good." Approval flickered in Helion's eyes as he nodded back at Azriel. "Which is why you need to stay away. For now," he added. "Just bear in mind what hangs in the balance here – not just for Gwyn but also for the Night Court if we fail to unearth the necessary information."

Azriel swallowed thickly, picturing all the ways Rhysand might exploit her to achieve his ends - much like he did with Nesta. "Rhysand might label her a threat."

"Understood," Azriel murmured back, determination sparking within him. For Gwyn’s sake, he would stop at nothing.

Outside Helion's study doors stood Gwyn; her heart pounding wildly against her ribcage as she eavesdropped on their conversation — an inexplicable urge had compelled her to tail them and listen in. "Remember, Azriel, what hangs in the balance here – not just for Gwyn but also for the Night Court if we fail to unearth the necessary information," Helion's voice seeped through the door, "Rhysand might label her a threat." ...

Gwyn's breath caught in her throat, a mixture of hurt and anger flaring within her. They were discussing her? And they had brought her here under false pretenses to assess her powers and determine if she was a potential threat to the Night Court? For what? To be cast out if she was indeed found dangerous? Given her mother's story this was oddly familiar.

The betrayal stung like a thousand tiny needles piercing her heart. She wanted to scream, to cry, to run away from it all. But instead, she clenched her fists, mustered her courage, and threw open the doors to the study, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Is this true?" she demanded, her voice shaking. "Did you bring me here to have me assessed like some... some unpredictable animal?"

Azriel paled, his eyes widening in horror, while Helion merely looked on, a subtle frown creasing his brow.

"No, Gwyn," Azriel stammered, shadows writhing around him like a storm. "Let me explain. I wanted to help you understand your powers and ... ."

"Save your excuses!" she spat, tears welling in her eyes as she glared at the man who she had given her heart to so freely. "You lied to me, Azriel. You brought me here under false pretenses, to determine whether or not I'm a threat?!"

Azriel shook his head vehemently, shadows writhing frantically around him, reflecting his agitation. "You have every right to be angry. But please believe me, my intentions were only ever to prove to Rhys you pose no threat. To help you with your powers."

"Help me?" Gwyn scoffed, her anger boiling up once more. "I have no issues with my powers."

"Please, Gwyn," Azriel pleaded, his voice desperate and vulnerable. "You have to trust me when I say you’ve got it wrong.“

Tears pricked at the corners of Gwyn's eyes, her chest tightening with every breath she took. Azriel stood before her, looking as if he was on the verge of breaking, but so was she.

"Trust you?" she spat, the bitterness in her voice echoing through the room. "Then why did you lie to me ?" she demanded, her voice cracking under the strain of her emotions. "Why did you lie to me about the purpose of our visit?"

Azriel hesitated for a moment "Because Rhysand ordered me to, Gwyn. And I…" he swallowed hard," stupid as I am, thought that perhaps it was best if you didn’t know. That you would feel less pressured."

"And what would you have done if Helion couldn't provide Rhysand his answers? Take me back to your dungeons and torture it out of me?" Her voice cracked on the last words, and she covered her mouth with a trembling hand.

"Never!" Azriel exclaimed, horror etched across his face. He moved toward her but she flung up a hand. His shadows keened mournfully, echoing the shattering in his chest. "I could never do something like that to you, Gwyn. I swear it, I would rather die."

Gwyn's heart ached at the sincerity in his words, but her anger and betrayal still simmered just below the surface.

"And what about you?" she asked bitterly, crossing her arms over her chest as she turned to Helion. "Your kindness and flattery. It was all just under the pretence to make me trust you, wasn't it?“

"By the Mother, no!" Helion exclaimed, his eyes wide with shock. "I would have treated you no differently under any other circumstances."

She heard the truth etched in his words, yet there was a part of her who couldn’t believe it, who didn’t want to believe it.

Gwyn couldn't shake the feeling that she was nothing more than a pawn in their game.

"I’m a fool" she murmured, her voice strained and thick with tears. "I should have known better than to ever trust a male again..."

"Please, Gwyn," Azriel whispered, his voice breaking as pain contorted his beautiful face. "Don't say that."

"You have used me.“ her tears finally spilling over.

"I did not," he insisted, his voice low and urgent.

Azriel stood there, his heart aching as he watched Gwyn turn away from him. The shadows around him seemed to darken and thicken, mirroring the horrible dread that was creeping up his spine. He had never wanted to cause her hurt.

"Please, Gwyn," Azriel choked out, his voice barely a whisper, "I never meant for any of this to happen. I just... I wanted to help you."

Gwyn shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "Take me back to the House of Wind," she demanded, her voice trembling with anger and pain.

"Gwyn," Azriel tried again, steeling himself for one last attempt to explain his actions and mend the rift that had formed between them.

"No," her voice was barely audible. "Just take me back."

He stared at her, wanting nothing more than to reach out and pull her into his arms, to comfort her and promise her that everything would be alright. But he knew that she wouldn't – couldn't – let him. Not right now, maybe not ever.

And so, with a very heavy heart, Azriel extended his hand toward her and winnowed them away.

Chapter Text

Azriel stood outside the library, his hands buried deep in his pockets as he recalled bringing Gwyn back to this very spot five days ago.

Five days since he'd last seen her, five days since he'd last talked to her and an eternity that he last heard her laugh.

Neither of them had participated in the group training, both choosing to isolate themselves.

His wings fluttered anxiously, as he stared at the worn stone steps in front of him.

He was running out of time...

His mind drifted back to the conversation with Rhys after they'd arrived back home.

"How was the trip?" Rhys had asked, pouring them both a glass of brandy.

Azriel's gaze had darkened. "Not as planed," he'd muttered.

Rhys studied him for a moment, reading the turmoil in his eyes. "Did something happen with Gwyn?"

Azriel tensed, shadows flickering. He gave a slight nod and explained how Gwyn had overheard him and Helion and had demanded to be taken back immediately.

Rhys spoke softly, "Did you find any information on how she can draw magic from Gwydion?" Azriel shook his head and took a sip from his glass, staring into the amber liquid.

Rhys placed a comforting hand on his shoulder and said, "Then I must talk to her."

"No," Azriel said sharply. Seeing Rhys' raised eyebrows, he added softly, "At least give her some time to process it all first."

Azriel knew, he needed to make amends, before Rhys got the chance to speak to her. It was crucial.

He hesitated a moment before opening the doors to the library. As always, the scent of ancient parchment and candle wax enveloped him.

He made his way to Clotho's desk, where the priestess sat scribbling in a large ledger. She looked up at his approach. Azriel inclined his head respectfully.

"I was hoping to see Gwyn. I...need to speak with her," he said quietly.

Clotho studied him for a long moment before picking up her enchanted pen and parchment. The pen scrawled across the page in looping script:

I will send for her.

Azriel nodded in thanks, his stomach churning with nerves. He began pacing as he waited, running through what he wanted to say in his mind.

It wasn't long before hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Gwyn appeared, her face flickering with surprise and apprehension when she saw him. Azriel's heart clenched at the wariness in her beautiful blue-green eyes. A wave of longing shot through him, but he knew better than to act on it. Not now, when there was still so much left unsaid between them.

"Azriel." Gwyn's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Gwyn hesitated for a moment before nodding curtly, leading him outside the library where they could speak in private.

"Gwyn," he began softly.

She folded her arms across her chest, face shuttering. "What do you want, Azriel?"

He flinched at the coldness in her voice. This was not going to be easy.

"I wanted to explain myself again," he started hesitantly. "About why I didn't tell you the real reason for our stay."

Azriel clenched his fists, frustration and regret warring within him. "I didn't want you to be concerned or worried. But I see now how wrong I was – I should have trusted you with the truth."

Her eyes flickered back towards him, and he glimpsed the hurt that lingered in their depths. "You should have," she agreed, her voice strained.

"I'll never forgive myself for betraying your trust, for making you feel used. Please, Gwyn, I beg of you to believe me when I say it was never my intention... " He pleaded, his voice raw and desperate with emotion.

Her eyes met his then, filled with a vulnerability. "I believe you, Azriel," her voice barely audible above the sound of her labored breaths.

"But maybe it's for the best if we keep our distance from each other."

Shock gripped Azriel as he stared at Gwyn, trying to process her words. His heart pounded against his chest, and his shadows seemed to quiver with his distress.

"No," he said urgently, the words spilling out in a desperate rush. "I don't want us to be apart..."

Gwyn looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. She took a shaky breath before speaking. "After everything that's happened, I realized how much my heart is involved in this… in you." She bit her lip, and her voice wavered. "I can't set myself up for that kind of heartache."

"Who says it has to end in heartache?" he asked, searching her face for any sign that she might change her mind.

"Because you're waiting for a mate," she answered quietly but resolutely. "And that isn’t me."

Azriel tried to intervene, to tell her that he didn't care about finding a mate, but Gwyn cut him off.

"You took my first kiss without even thinking about how it would affect me," she said, a lone teardrop slipping down her cheek. Gwyn quickly brushed it away with the back of her hand before it fell.

"Tell me, Azriel," she demanded, her voice unwavering. "If your mate appeared tomorrow or if Mor suddenly realized her feelings for you, would you still want to be with me? I refuse to be just someone you pass the time with."

He opened his mouth to argue - You’re wrong. I don't want some abstract mate. I want you, Gwyn. Only you - but the words refused to come. It felt like a vice was clamped around his throat, choking out any response he might have had. His shadows writhed around him, desperate to convey what he could not find the words to say.

Gwyn's gaze bore into him, and when he remained silent, she let out a bitter laugh. "I thought so," she whispered, her voice laden with pain.

And with that, she turned away from him and went back into the library, leaving Azriel alone in the hall.

A sharp pain seared through his chest, squeezing his heart with a grip of steel. He gasped for air. In vain.

He was certain he was dying, but the Mother refused to release her grasp on his life just yet.

He cowered there for what felt like an eternity, his shadows swirling around him, mirroring the turmoil in his heart, before he left.

In an attempt to clear his mind, Azriel sought out Cassian for some much-needed physcial exhaustion - sparring. The clash of steel rang through the training grounds as they exchanged blows, each move calculated and precise.

Yet, despite his best efforts, Azriel was distracted, so much so, it was making him reckless. His strikes grew wilder and less controlled, leaving him open to counterattacks that he would normally have easily evaded.

Cassian landed a nasty blow that sent Azriel crashing into the equipment shed, smashing the wall and raining debris down around him.

"What the hell Az!" Cassian yelled, rushing over. "You trying to get yourself killed?"

Azriel waved off his concern as he hauled himself to his feet, wincing. "I'm fine."

But he wasn't fine, not even close. Storming back to his room, Azriel tore off his leathers and stepped into a scalding shower, hoping the hot water would clear his head. It didn't. Leaning against the cool tile, rivulets streaming down his battered body, his thoughts drifted back to Gwyn.

Azriel cursed himself for how badly he'd handled things. She was more than deserving of his honesty and he had failed her. Twice. Had failed to make clear that she was the only one who quieted his restlessness, who filled his dreams with images of the future and occupied his every waking thought.

Those damning questions that he hadn't been able to answer – haunted him. He berated himself for not speaking up, for allowing his silence to confirm her fears.

Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Gwyn's face – the way her eyes had shimmered with tears, the way her lips had trembled when she'd said "I thought so."

The memory was like a dagger twisting in his heart, and it only fueled his anger at himself.

"Idiot," he growled, slamming his fist against the wall, the impact reverberating through his entire body, as skin made room for stone.

His shadows danced around him like a storm, their agitation growing with his own.

In this quiet solitude he allowed himself to truly reflect on his feelings ...

Gwyn had been right – he had always wanted a mate, someone to share his life with. But in the weeks and months since he had grown closer to her, he could no longer deny the truth: it was her smile that brightened even his darkest days, her presence he seeked when he felt lost, and her voice that soothed the pain in his soul like no one else ever had. She was everything he had ever longed for.

Azriel's heart clenched painfully at the realization that he truly didn't want a mate if it wasn't her. Gwyn had become an integral part of his existence, and the thought of losing her terrified him more than any battlefield he'd ever faced. He couldn't let this be the end of their story.

A fierce determination took root in his chest, filling him with newfound purpose. He would tell her – show her – how much she meant to him, make her understand that he hadn’t been waiting for some distant, nameless mate. He had been waiting for her.

But first, he needed to heal the rift between them, to mend the trust he had unwittingly broken. And with renewed resolve, Azriel vowed to do whatever it took – to bare his soul and lay everything on the line – for a chance at a future with Gwyn.

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a soft golden glow over the library as Azriel strode purposefully towards its entrance. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat a reminder of the truth he now held close – that Gwyn had come to mean more to him than anyone else ever had.

The hushed quiet of the library seemed to thrum with anticipation as Azriel made his way to Clotho's desk, the shadows around him whispering their encouragement.

'Would you like to speak to Gwyn again," Clotho wrote, a small smile gracing her lips.

"Yes," the word coming out breathless from the desperate need to speak to her, to set things right between them.

Clotho regarded him silently for a moment before dipping her quill into ink and writing on a piece of paper. 'You're out of luck,' she wrote, her elegant script flowing across the page.

'Gwyn volunteered to assist the priestesses and monks in the temple of silence during their annual New Year's ritual. She left an hour ago.'

Azriel's heart dropped, the weight of disappointment settling heavily in his chest. "How long will she be gone?" he managed to ask, his voice barely audible.

'Three weeks,' Clotho wrote, the simple phrase seeming to stretch out into an eternity before his eyes.

Three fucking weeks.

Chapter Text

Clotho studied the devastation etched across Azriel's face, her eyes gentle and sympathetic. 'The ritual is open for anyone,' she wrote, offering him a small, tentative smile. 'But you would have to commit to silence in the temple for three weeks too.'

---

For a day, he wrestled with the decision. Three weeks of silence seemed daunting, when all he wanted to do was talk to her, but eventually, the longing to be near Gwyn won out. He approached Rhysand, requesting the time off, and his brother to Azriel's surprise granted it without further questions.

So in the afternoon Azriel made his way to the marble sanctuary at the heart of Velaris at the other side of the Sidra. Two priests were waiting at the entrance, their shaved heads and simple grey robes a mirror of the austere life he was about to embrace.

"Welcome, brother," the smaller one greeted. "Have you come seeking stillness?"

Azriel inclined his head. "I have."

The two males exchanged a glance but if they recognized him, they made no indication.

"Then come," the second priest beckoned. "We will discuss the details inside."

Azriel followed them through the doorway and was led down a long hallway lined with flickering candles.

"For the next three weeks, you will take a vow of silence," they explained. "No speaking, only quiet contemplation and prayer. We break our fast and take our meals in silence as well."

Azriel nodded. He was no stranger to solitude and keeping his own counsel.

"At dawn and dusk we gather for worship," they went on. "The rest of the time is yours to meditate and reflect. On the final day, you will bathe in the sacred pools to cleanse body and spirit. When the sun rises the next morning, the ritual will be complete."

Reaching the end of the hall, the priests paused before a plain wooden door.

"You must wear the ceremonial robes," said the taller one. "We will find you a set, though you are...unusually big."

Azriel suppressed a smile at the priest's diplomatic phrasing.

After some searching, they produced a grey robe that would suffice, if only just. Azriel changed quickly, handing over his leathers.

"Your weapon," the male said gently, nodding towards where Truth-teller, Azriel's trusted blade, hung at his side. "Weapons are not permitted within the sanctuary."

His grip tightened on the hilt of the dagger, reluctant to part with it. But eventually he nodded and called upon his shadows to take it away, darkness cradling it before disappearing. A pang of unease settled in his chest as he was stripped of his armor and defenses, but he reminded himself that his goal here was not to fight, but to connect with Gwyn.

"Come," they beckoned when he was ready. "Let the ritual commence."

Azriel drew in a deep breath and stepped into the actual temple. As he entered, the atmosphere within was nearly palpable – a heavy silence that weighed down on him like a blanket. The air was thick with incense, intertwining with the scent of burning candles as they flickered gently in the dim light. His eyes were drawn to the ornate altar at the center, adorned with intricate carvings and surrounded by a circle of stones.

The room was filled with men and women all dressed in the same grey robes as him, their faces solemn and introspective as they prayed or meditated.

A few glanced his way, curiosity flashing in their eyes at the massive stranger in their midst. Azriel kept his face impassive, shoulders back and chin high.

As the priests guided him further inside, Azriel searched the sea of unfamiliar faces for the one he knew. The one he had come here for. But Gwyneth Berdara was nowhere to be seen. His shadows rippled with unease.

They directed him to sit cross-legged on a cushion near the front. Azriel sank down, wings tucked in tight. He focused on keeping his breathing steady despite the claustrophobic press of so many bodies in the enclosed space.

As the time for dinner neared, he still had not caught a glimpse of Gwyn.

The meal consisted of thin vegetable broth and stale bread. He grimaced at the bland fare but forced it down. As Spymaster, he had endured far worse in the name of duty. This was nothing.

After dinner, it was time for evening service. Azriel stood up along with everyone else and mouthed the words he didn't know as they sang together in harmony.(Apparently singing was allowed)

But he was not complaining, the sound of two hundred voices chanting in unison was surprisingly calming, and he felt some of his tension dissipate from his shoulders.

When the gong sounded for sleep, Azriel followed the procession of males to the dormitories. His shoulders slumped as he realized they all slept together in one large room. Without Truth-Teller at his side, he knew sleep would elude him. Not to mention the far too small bed, which would not be big enough to fit his large frame. He'd have to crouch and contort, no doubt leaving him sore and aching come morning.

Azriel settled onto the too-short mattress, wings folded tightly to his back. He stared up at the dark ceiling, listening to the soft breaths and occasional snores of the other males. His thoughts drifted to Gwyn, picturing her kind eyes and playful smile.

Azriel's most treasured aspect of their relationship had been her friendship, the effortless banter and playful teasing. She never shied away from him or his dark nature. And she had been right - he didn't need someone who admired him, but rather someone who challenged him. And she certainly did that... didn't she?

The first light of dawn crept into the cramped dormitory, casting a warm glow on the slumbering male participants. Azriel lay awake, his body twisted uncomfortably, while his mind had been racing with thoughts the whole night.

Gathering himself, Azriel rose from the bed, his sore muscles protesting every movement. He quietly made his way through the hushed sanctuary, hoping against hope for a glimpse of fiery brown hair or the depth of teal eyes today.

Every day began just as monotonously as the last. Azriel shuffled through the services and ceremonies in a daze, ducking under doorways and keeping his eyes lowered. He caught no glimpse of Gwyn, though he strained his senses searching for her.

Until one morning, when he stepped into the courtyard of the sanctuary.

Being alone, even for a moment, was a blessing. He tilted his face up, soaking in the warm sunlight. The faintest hint of a smile touched his lips.

Azriel's moment of peace was interrupted by the sight of a familiar coppery braid slipping through the garden. His heart leapt as Gwyn came into view, carrying a basket of vegetables freshly picked from the beds.

She had not seen him yet, too focused on her task. Azriel watched her for a moment, drinking in the sight he had missed these past days. Her hair glowed almost golden in the sunlight, the braid swaying gently as she worked. Her face was serene, lips moving soundlessly as she hummed to herself. She was radiant.

Azriel shifted, gravel crunching under his boots, and Gwyn's gaze snapped to him. Shock flitted across her features before her expression shuttered. She gave him a brief nod in greeting before turning away, pointedly ignoring him.

Azriel sighed, shoulders slumping. He had hoped… yea what had he hoped? She was clearly still upset. Still wanted her distance. He wished he could explain, wished he could finally talk. But breaking the vow of silence here in the open would probably only chase her away further.

For now, he would have to be content with these stolen glimpses. Azriel's eyes lingered on Gwyn as she disappeared back inside, braid swaying gently behind her. Soon, he promised himself. Soon he would make things right between them.

The next day, the fragrance of water lilies and sea salt enveloped Azriel like a soft embrace. His heart fluttered as he caught another whiff of Gwyn's presence during the morning service.

From then on, his eyes would find hers frequently, drinking in the sight of her beautiful face.

One evening, Gwyn approached Azriel in the dimly lit corridor. Her teal eyes held an unspoken message, and she extended her hand towards him. The world around them seemed to fade away as their fingers intertwined.

Wordlessly, she led him through the winding passages of the sacred place, till they arrived at a small secluded chamber, its only furnishing a single mattress on the floor. A big mattress.

With a graceful sweep of her hands, Gwyn silently conveyed that this was meant for him – a place where he could rest without the discomfort of the too-small bed shared with all the male participants.

Azriel's heart swelled at the thoughtful gesture. She had seen his struggle – had noticed his discomfort – and had chosen to help him despite the rift between them. It was a small act, yet it spoke volumes about the depth of her kindness.

His golden-brown eyes locked with Gwyn's, conveying his gratitude. Her gaze held a mixture of warmth and uncertainty, before she turned around and left.

His shadows brushed against her cheek like a tender kiss and Gwyn swore she heard a faint ‘Thank you’ from them too.

Despite the newfound comfort of the larger mattress, sleep eluded him that night. He tossed and turned, but his mind was too occupied by the female who had brought him here.

It was in the midst of this restless turmoil that he heard the soft patter of footsteps approaching. Every muscle in his body tensed as he feigned slumber, his senses alerting him to the presence just beyond the door.

The unmistakable scent of waterlilies and ocean breeze filled the room, confirming what Azriel already knew deep in his bones – it was Gwyn.

The mattress dipped as she sat beside him. Then something cold and sharp pressed to his throat: a knife.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

When he did not answer straight away, she pressed on."Are you pretending to be asleep?“ her delicate hand trembled slightly against his skin, betraying the uncertainty that lay beneath her steely resolve.

"Is breaking your vow of silence worth this?" Azriel asked. He knew his answer, but needed for her to be sure of it too. "And is the knife really necessary?"

"Only tonight," Gwyn replied quietly, her resolve hardening once more. "And yes, it is. Now tell me – what the hell are you doing here?"

Azriel's body ached to move, to sit up and face her, but the pressure of the blade against his throat held him captive.

"Alright," Azriel murmured, "I'll tell my shadows to mute our conversation."

With a subtle flick of his wrist, he commanded the shadows to grant the pair privacy while they spoke. The darkness seemed to absorb the sound around them, allowing for a sense of intimacy.

"We can talk openly without having to whisper now." he offered, his voice now at a normal volume.

"Fine," Gwyn huffed.

Azriel finally reached forward and plucked the knife from her grasp, examining it with a tilt of his head. It was a simple vegetable knife, far too dull to cause any serious damage.

"Interesting choice of weaponry," he teased, offering her a wry smile. "You wouldn't have been able to do much damage with this, you know."

Gwyn rolled her eyes, snatching the knife back from him. "It was just for dramatic effect," she shot back, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "You can keep it if it helps you sleep better."

He couldn't help but smile at her teasing, feeling the familiar warmth of their banter thawing the tension between them. Gwyn smiled back, and for a fleeting instant, everything felt right again.

"Thank you," he replied, chuckling softly. "Your thoughtfulness is truly touching."

He attempted to shift into a sitting position, and Gwyn allowed him this time. However, the blanket that had been draped over his torso fell away, revealing his naked chest. Her eyes widened as she took in the sight of him, her gaze lingering on the planes and contours of his muscular form.

"Um," she stammered, blushing profusely as she tried to tear her gaze away from his exposed body. "Why aren't you wearing anything?"

Azriel shrugged, feeling heat rise to his cheeks. "Because the material itches," a hint of amusement in his tone.

"Right," she murmured, finally snapping out of her daze and meeting his eyes once more. "Which leads me to my original question... why are you here?"

Azriel's smile faded, replaced by a somber expression as he considered how to reveal the truth of his presence – the unspoken feelings that had led him to seek her out in this secluded space. But as he looked into her eyes, he knew that there was no turning back now.

"Because," he began, his voice soft but steady.

"I need to talk to you, Gwyn."

She let out a half-hearted laugh,"Well, this is not exactly the most convenient place for a conversation."

When his determined expression didn’t waver, Gwyn nodded, giving him permission to continue.

Azriel inhaled deeply, feeling his chest expand, as he prepared to bare his soul to the woman who had captured his heart like no other ever had – or ever would.

"Please. I … it’s important."

Gwyn nodded again, her eyes wide as she searched for any inkling of what Azriel was about to reveal.

"Back at the House of Wind, when you asked me what I would do if my mate came around… I was startled… I wanted to tell you… but somehow nothing came out." His his heart was pounding in his ears. "So I’m going to tell you now."

He swallowed hard, knowing that he had to say what was on his mind this time, if he did not want to loose her.

"Before I met you, Gwyn," he began, his voice low and steady, "I never knew what it was like to feel this way - to be fully seen and appreciated for who I am."

He stopped briefly, taking a deep breath before carrying on. "I honestly believed I was destined to be alone," he continued, his gaze never leaving hers. "I only wished for a mate because I hoped it would give someone enough reason to like me and stay with me. After all, why would anyone willingly choose me, knowing who I really am?"

Gwyn's chest tightened as she listened to him speak.

"But then you came into my life and everything changed."

He paused, gathering his thoughts once more.

"You make me want things I never thought possible," Azriel said softly. "You make me believe in love and hope and everything beautiful in this world."

Tears pooled in Gwyn's eyes as she heard the sincerity in his voice.

"And when you asked me about my mate," he went on, "I got scared … scared of opening up my heart to someone else, scared of being rejected or hurt."

Azriel held back tears as he tried to convey the depth of his feelings for her.

"I don’t want a mate anymore." he continued, each word a declaration from the depths of his soul. "At least not if it isn’t you, Gwyn."

Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying..." Azriel gently placed both of her hands over his heart, securing them there with his own.

"You're it for me." Barely more than a whisper, he continued."Feel this?", Azriel tapped his fingers lightly over her hand, signaling for her to feel his heartbeat.

Gwyn nodded, her throat working as she swallowed thickly.

"It beats for you," Azriel told her, his voice raw and vulnerable, "only you. And it has for a while."

She gazed at him with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

The shadows seemed to hold their breath, waiting for Gwyn's reaction.

Azriel's heart thundered painfully in his chest as he gathered all of this courage to say the last but most important bit of his mental agenda. "I -I‘m in love with you." There is was. Finally. For once he had managed to expressed how he truely felt and he was super proud of himself. What she did with it now, was her decision and hers only. But at least it was out.

Gwyn’s fingers curled into the taut muscles of his chest, as if anchoring herself to him in the face of such an overwhelming confession. She blinked back tears, her voice barely a whisper as she breathed his name. "Azriel…"

He held his breath, his heart pounding like a drum against her touch.

The air between them was thick, charged like the moments before a storm.

As Gwyn stared into Azriel's deep, endless gaze, she summoned all her courage and leaned in. Her breath hitching as their lips met. Tentatively at first.

Azriel’s hands fell from hers, as he cupped her cheeks, his callused fingers gently brushing her soft skin.

The kiss was slow and measured, each stroke of their tongues a silent confession of their love for each other. Gwyn's hands traveled over his abdomen, her fingers splaying over his taut muscles as she deepened the kiss further. A groan rumbled through Azriel's chest, a sound that instantly ignited a fire deep within her core. And their mouths sealed together with newfound urgency, their bodies melding as if they had been made to fit together from the very start.

As they gasped for air, Gwyn rested her forehead against his chest. "I- I don't know what to say," she managed to stammer out, her fingers tracing the intricate patterns of his Illyrian tattoos.

"You don't have to say anything," Azriel murmured into her hair, his breathing ragged but at peace for once.

"Just know that I am yours, all yours, if you'll have me."

"Yes," she coughed, "Of course I'll have you."

Azriel let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and pulled her into a tight embrace.

"You don't have to decide now," he said softly, his thumb stroking her cheek gently. "You can take all the time you need."

But Gwyn knew in her heart that there was no turning back now. She had made a decision about him a long time ago and she did not need to wait any longer to give him her answer.

"I don't need any more time," she told him firmly, surprising herself how confident she sounded. "I want to be with you."

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough. "I don't want to push you into anything you're not ready for."

Gwyn met his gaze unwaveringly. "I've never been surer in my life," the tone of her voice was filled with such strong conviction that there was no room for any further discussion.

Without another word, Azriel cupped her face in his hands and brought their lips together once more. This time, there was no hesitation between them - only a fierce longing that seemed to have been building since the moment they met again in the training ring over a year ago.

Their kiss quickly turned passionate, their bodies pressing against each other as if they were trying to merge into one being. Gwyn felt like she was drowning in sensation - the warmth of Azriel's body against hers, the taste of his lips on hers, the scent of pine and smoke that clung to him.

Azriel broke away momentarily to trail hot kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Gwyn let out a soft moan as he found a particularly sensitive spot just below her earlobe.

"Is this alright?" he whispered against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Yes," she gasped out without hesitation.

Azriel's kisses trailed lower, down her collarbone.

His mouth felt like fire on her skin - hot, hungry and insatiable.

Heat pooled between her thighs and Gwyn's hips involuntarily rocked up, desperate for more of his touch, more of him.

Neither one of them noticed the shadows around them rippling with approval, their master finally claiming what was his.

Gwyn on the other hand had never felt such intense longing before and the intensity of which she needed him closer almost scared her.

Her hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the dark locks as she did how her desire demanded and pulled him closer.

"Azriel," his name trembled from her lips like a prayer, like something holy. And Gwyn arched herself against him even more. It was all too much and not enough at the same time.

"I've been waiting a lifetime to hear you say my name like that." he breathed, tracing the lines of her collarbones with reverence.

Gwyn blushed.

"But nevertheless we should stop." he managed to say although his eyes were glazed with desire. "There is no need to rush this."

"I- I don't want to stop," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel's eyes softened as he gazed down at her. "I don't want to either, but we need to," he told her gently.

Gwyn nodded, trying to catch her breath. She knew he was right - they had all the time in the world now that they were ... together.

But a part of her couldn't help but feel disappointed at the thought of not continuing this ...

Azriel noticed the change in her expression and leaned down to kiss her softly once more. "We have all eternity," he murmured against her lips. "I want... I will savor every moment with you."

Gwyn shivered at his words.

"You are right. I should probably go anyway...," she sighed, her eyes growing dark again, while inhaling his heady scent "before anyone realizes I'm gone."

"I'll walk you back to your room," he said, his voice low and husky.

She shook her head. "No," she insisted, looking at him with a pleading expression. "Please, just stay here. I don't trust myself if you come with me." Hearing her admit this, caused a self-sufficient smile to spread across his lips.

"I can't believe you came to this place for me." Her thumb traced the sharp angles of his cheekbone, leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

"I would go to the end of the world for you. Three weeks of silence is hardly a challenge." He declared leaning into her touch.

"Only ten more days." She corrected.

"Ten more days." He repeated as he lost himself in the stunning pattern of those freckles again.

Too late he realized that Gwyn was pulling him back in. He growled into her mouth, as she gave him one last heart-wrenching kiss. A kiss he would dream about the following days.

Chapter Text

Their days had settled back into the familiar pattern of ritual and silence since the night he had shared his feelings with her, but there was a new undercurrent now—an unspoken understanding that flowed between them like a secret.

Every time they crossed paths, there were furtive glances and hidden touches. Gwyn's heart would race whenever she caught a glimpse of his striking profile, the curve of his lips, or the graceful flutter of his wings as she passed by. Her desire for him was like a living creature, growing more intense with each passing day.

A few days after dawn service, Azriel's hand had brushed against hers, igniting a fire trail along her skin. She had looked up to find him watching her, his hazel eyes dark and fathomless. In a heartbeat, he had pulled her into the shadow of a pillar, his fingers tangling in her hair as he captured her lips in a searing kiss. It was a brief moment, fragile and fleeting but nevertheless intense.

Gwyn knew that Azriel felt the same way; he could see it in the way his eyes darkened whenever he looked at her, in the way his breath hitched when they touched.

She found herself dreaming of him at night, the echo of his voice in her ear, the tender press of his lips against her skin. And every morning, she woke with a sigh, her body aching for him.

The final day of the ritual had arrived, and with it came the sacred tradition of washing in the pool - believed to purify both body and soul. Gwyn had made sure she was the one chosen for the task of washing Azriel, knowing it was her one chance to be near him without raising any suspicion. Not to mention that she could not bear the thought of another priestess touching him.

So Gwyn approached and inclined her head in a silent greeting. Azriel dipped his chin in response. She caught the flare of heat in his eyes and stifled a shiver as she led the way.

As they entered the pool chamber, the soft glow of candles flickered against the damp stone walls, creating a divine atmosphere. Gwyn's heart pounded in her chest as she silently guided Azriel to the pool's edge, her fingers trembling with anticipation as they brushed against his muscular arm.

Gwyn offered a timid, uncertain smile as she reached for the collar of his robe, delicately pulling on it. Her gaze remained fixed on his, silently urging him to undress.

Azriel blinked, shadows swirling in confusion. Gwyn bit back a smile and repeated the gesture more firmly. Finally, understanding dawned in his eyes. Of course - for the ritual washing, he had to... get naked.

With a nervous nibble on her lip, Gwyn turned away from the Shadowsinger, allowing him some privacy.

But she could feel his gaze lingering on her back as if it were burning a hole through her skin.

The ripple of water echoed in the chamber, indicating Azriel had entered the pool, and it reverberated like a hushed secret in the sacred space. Her fingers clenched tight, nails digging into the soft flesh of her palm as she battled to keep her emotions in check. Despite the sanctity of their surroundings, her mind was consumed by impure thoughts.

Gwyn took a deep breath and slowly turned around, her eyes widening as she beheld the sight of him standing waist-deep in the waters. His body was a masterpiece of muscle and sinew, every inch of him sculpted by years of grueling combat and honed to perfection.

Gwyn beckoned him closer with a slight tilt of her head. She perched herself on the pool's edge, gathering her robes up just enough to let her legs dangle as she made space for him in the little notch in between that would allow her to wash his head. The water lapped gently at her shins, calm and soothing against her already overly heated skin.

With cautious steps, he approached her, his powerful wings folded tightly against his muscular back. He settled into the space between her legs, facing away. She could swear she heard him sigh before he did so.

She placed her hands on either side of his head, fingers sliding into his black hair.

Bowing her head, she began the prayer, her voice soft and trembling.

As she spoke, she traced the strong lines of his face with her gaze. The angular jaw and cheekbones, the full mouth she longed to kiss again.

Her hands moved to cup the back of his neck, thumbs caressing his throat. She swallowed hard, barely able to concentrate on the prayer. All she wanted was to touch more of him and learn the taste and feel of his skin.

When the prayer ended, she let water trickle through her fingers onto his head. It streamed over his face in rivulets, droplets clinging to his lashes.

Azriel's eyes drifted shut immediately, and he hummed in return. Gwyn's heart clenched at the raw and exposed state of him before her.

However today was going to end, she knew she would cherish this moment forever. The honor of doing this for him, with him.

She poured more water over him—over his cheeks, lips, and neck. Eventually, her hands moved to his shoulders. Mindful of his wings, she gave them a little massage before reluctantly breaking contact altogether. Azriel's eyes snapped open.

But Gwyn rose and stepped back, acutely aware of his gaze following her every move. She drew a steadying breath, then reached for the ties of her robe.

The silk fabric rustled gently as she slid it off her shoulders, revealing her body to the cool air. Azriel's breath caught in his throat, but he kept his head down, trying to maintain a sense of restraint.

A warm flush spread over her body as she set the robe aside. She was completely exposed now, and if he wanted, he could see every inch of her.

And Azriel did look up eventually, unable to hold himself back any longer. But instead of desire, his gaze was filled with reverence as it swept over her as if she were some sacred thing.

Her blush deepened, but she held his stare. Waiting. Wanting.

Gwyn finally eased herself into the pool, letting the warm water envelope her as she swam towards him with slow, teasing strokes.

As she neared him, she saw it - a deep blush strained the Shadowsinger's cheeks. He shuffled uneasily, his shadows dancing chaotically around him in a visual display of his disarray, completely thrown off guard.

Perfect, Gwyn thought. She craved for him to be as unsettled as she was.

She halted just inches away from him, close enough to bask in the warmth emanating from his massive form.

His gaze roamed over her features, tracing the contours of her face, the graceful arch of her neck, and the enticing fullness of her breasts peeking above the water's surface.

She had never felt so exposed yet so worshipped. It was intoxicating.

Slowly moving closer, she stood to her full height, revealing all of her upper torso while the water cascaded down her pale skin. Azriel's golden-brown skin flushed a deep shade of crimson almost everywhere as he struggled to maintain eye contact with her, completely captivated by her beauty.

No one had ever looked at her like this.

Gwyn lifted her hands to his face, tracing the strong line of his jaw, and his eyes fluttered shut.

His hands found their way to her hips, and his eyes opened again, drawing her closer.

She obliged willingly, molding her body to his.

But as she did so, something else called for her attention. Azriel's hard length was now pressing against her belly with a force that stole her breath. Her eyes flickered down in shock. Good Mother above. She'd never seen anything so big. Indeed, every inch of him seemed to radiate raw power and primal desire.

Azriel tensed, pulling back to search her face. Embarrassment flickered in his eyes. He opened his mouth, no doubt to apologize, but Gwyn pressed a finger to his lips.

As the shock wore off, Gwyn's curiosity peaked. She reached out and ran one finger slowly over him, delighting in the smoothness of his skin and the firmness beneath.

The sound Azriel emitted at her touch was a reward of its own kind.

And when she looked back up, Azriel was watching her with a hungry expression.

Gwyn gripped him firmer then, causing him to groan deeply as his hips instinctively moved in response.

Encouraged, she picked up the pace and added a twist of her wrist on each upward movement.

She released him only long enough to brace her hands on his chest and surge up on her toes, claiming his mouth in a searing kiss.

Azriel responded instantly, hands tangling in her hair to angle her head, his tongue sliding against hers, hot and slick.

She shuddered. Every point of contact between them felt electric - the press of his chest to hers, his hands on her skin, his mouth devouring hers.

He ravaged her lips with a ferocity that left her breathless, nipping and biting until they were swollen and raw. His kisses trailed down to her neck, and Gwyn's head fell back in ecstasy as he found a spot that made her see stars. Her fingers dug into his hair as she surrendered completely to the intense passion between them.

He paused at her collarbone, tracing the freckles there with his tongue before moving lower.

With a primal growl, Azriel's mouth closed over her nipple, sending waves of scorching heat through Gwyn's body. The sharp bite of his teeth and the wetness of his tongue drove her to cry out in both pleasure and pain.

Her back arched like a bow, pushing herself deeper into his mouth as he hungrily sucked and nipped at her breasts, leaving them swollen and sensitive.

Gwyn trembled uncontrollably; she had never experienced such mind-blowing pleasure before, never imagined her body could respond this way to another's touch outside of her wildest fantasies. And as Azriel's erection pressed against her belly, hot and insistent, she found herself not minding at all.

Instead, she melted into him more. She wanted this, wanted him, more than she'd ever wanted anything.

Her core clenched in anticipation as she rubbed herself against him with a newfound conviction.

Azriel broke the kiss with another groan, eyes dark and hungry. In one smooth motion, he lifted Gwyn out of the water and set her on the edge of the pool before sinking back in before her, settling between her thighs.

Gwyn blamed her already heavily clouded mind for her lack of response as his beautiful hands slid up to grip her hips. And then he looked up at her through his thick lashes, silently asking for permission.

But what for?

With his left hand, he slicked back his wet hair while holding her gaze. And then slowly, ever so, he lowered his mouth and kissed the inside of her thigh.

Heat flooded her, and her eyes widened as his intentions became evident.

Something bold in her made her nod in agreement.

Not a second later, Azriel's warm breath ghosted over her slick folds, sending white-hot bolts of desire shooting through her body.

As his tongue dipped into her entrance for the first time, Gwyn swore she had died and ended up in heaven. Involuntarily, her head fell back with a gasp. She fisted her hands in his hair, torn between pushing him closer and pulling away from the overwhelming sensations.

But soon, her hips started thrashing, desperate for more contact with the source of her pleasure.

Azriel responded eagerly, his skilled tongue swirling and flicking against her sensitive bud before plunging back inside her, driving her to the brink of madness.

Azriel took his time exploring her, learning what made her twitch and moan. His hands kept her anchored in place, grip firm on her hips, as he drove her higher and higher. The fire in Gwyn's veins raged out of control, pleasure coiling tight within her.

She was unable to form words, but when their eyes locked in mutual understanding, it was a language more profound than any spoken words could convey.

Every nerve was on fire, sparking with anticipation as she balanced on the edge of release. Her teeth clenched down on her lip, drawing blood as she fought to remain silent, knowing that their secrecy was essential.

Yet, as the waves of ecstasy built higher, she couldn't hold back any longer; a throaty moan slipped past her lips.

That single sound seemed to spur Azriel on, his fingers joining his mouth to bring her even greater pleasure. He curled them inside her, gently stroking the spot that made her see stars, the intensity of the sensations building exponentially with each touch.

And then, with one final flick of his tongue and a ruthless thrust of his fingers, Gwyn shatters into a thousand pieces.

Her body convulsed, muscles tensing and releasing as she rode the crest of her orgasm, euphoria singing through her veins.

Gwyn lay trembling against the cold stone, her heart racing as the aftershocks of pleasure slowly faded. She opened her eyes to find Azriel pulling himself out of the pool, shadows leaping toward her as he watched her with unveiled concern.

Though they couldn't speak, his unasked question was clear. Are you alright?

Gwyn smiled softly and lifted a hand, beckoning him closer. Azriel came without hesitation, water sluicing off his powerful body as he crouched beside her.

She traced the scarred knuckles of his hand, meeting his stare. Then Gwyn curled her fingers around the back of his neck and drew him down into a kiss.

Azriel made a low sound in his throat, tangling his hands in her wet hair as he returned her kiss with aching tenderness.

Gwyn slid her hands down Azriel's chest, tracing the hard planes of muscle until she reached his own arousal, still rock hard.

She wrapped both hands around him and began to stroke, her movements slow and deliberate.

Azriel's breath caught in his throat, his cheeks flushing as he watched her with dark eyes.

She drank in every reaction, every twitch and gasp, using them to guide her touches. Determined to give him as much pleasure as he had given her.

Her fingers danced over the sensitive head, tracing the ridges and dips that she knew drove him wild. Azriel's hips bucked his need growing even more urgent as she teased him.

Gwyn leaned in closer, intending to gently kiss Azriel's neck. However, she became lost in the moment and ended up unconsciously sucking and nibbling until his skin was raw and marked with red bites.

Azriel's body jerked in response. With a guttural noise, his hand found its way between them, slipping a finger deep inside Gwyn.

Her back arched at the sudden intrusion, pleasure shooting through her with every stroke of his finger.

Gwyn increased the pace of her own hands on Azriel's length as he thrust deeper inside of her. Their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm, each one fueling the other's pleasure until they were both on the brink once more.

Azriel buried his face against Gwyn's neck as he climaxed with a low growl that vibrated through the entire room. Feeling him shudder and pulse against her was enough to send Gwyn over the edge once again, crying out his name this time without hesitation or fear.

Her head fell on Azriel's shoulder, both of them still panting as they were trying to come down from their high.

A soft chuckle trembled through his chest as he wrapped his arms around her, one hand tangling in her wet hair while the other stroked soothing circles on her back.

They stayed like that for a few minutes before Azriel pulled away slightly and looked down at her with a soft smile. His expression softened even further as he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

"So this is what it feels like," Azriel said quietly, breaking his vow again for the second time. Although he knew this one was as worth it as the first time.

Gwyn lifted her head to look at him, confused, "What?"

"To be happy. "

Chapter Text

The heavy wooden doors of the temple groaned open as Azriel and Gwyn stepped out into the crisp morning air.

After three weeks of silence and meditation and being bound to the sanctuary's grounds, Gwyn took a deep breath, savoring the sounds of the Sidra flowing in front of her and the birds chirping in the trees. She glanced over at Azriel, noticing the softness in his eyes as he looked at her.

His shadows curled toward her, and she could have sworn she felt the brush of velvet darkness against her own power, a greeting and caress all at once. "So?" His voice was rough from disuse, and she shivered at the sound. "How was your service at the temple?"

"It was quite enlightening," she replied, a hint of amusement in her voice.

His fingers timidly brushed against the inside of her hand, tracing a slow path down her palm until they entwined with hers. Gwyn's heart fluttered at the subtle touch, a rush of warmth spreading across her cheeks. Despite the intimate moments they had shared by now and the exploration of each other's bodies only yesterday, this simple affection still made her stomach flutter like nothing else.

"Would you like to get coffee?" The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. "I just—it's been so long since we really spend time with each other and I—" He wasn't ready to share her with the world again quite yet.

"I'd like that," she interrupted gently, beaming up at him like the sun breaking through the clouds."Very much."

"Great. I know of a cozy place by the Sidra with the best pastries in Velaris." His deep, gravelly voice was like music to her ears.

Her resulting smile was entirely too bright, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Not when Azriel fell into step beside her as they left the stone courtyard, not when she caught the scent of coffee and pastries as they entered the little café by the Sidra, not when he guided her to a small table in the corner, secluded and intimate.

The whole time Gwyn couldn't take her eyes off of him.

Standing at over six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders and well-defined muscles visible beneath his black training leathers, his powerful physique commanded attention and left little to the imagination what he was capable of. But it was his face that had truly always captivated her. It was a unique blend of sharp angles and soft curves, giving off an almost angelic aura - something that Gwyn had not noticed in any other Illyrian so far.

Gwyn's fingers itched to trace the rough stubble on his cheeks and jaw. She had never seen him with such a rugged look before, and it stirred something deep within her. She noticed a small patch of bare skin under his chin and realized there must be a scar there. She would ask him about that later.

His dark hair fell across his forehead in unruly waves, just brushing against thick lashes framing striking hazel eyes. Those eyes could pierce right through someone with a single glance, but when he looked at Gwyn, like he was right now, they were warm pools of amber, crinkling slightly at the corners as he smiled.

And then there were his wings... Gwyn had been stealing glances at them as they had twitched during their walk. In the sunlight, the membranes transformed into a symphony of almost translucent grey and brown hues, leaving every vein and muscle on display - looking utterly magnificent. Gwyn ached with the need to touch them, but she remembered Cassian's warning about wingplay and held back, knowing she needed to ask for permission before indulging in such a reckless desire.

He was the perfect combination of beauty and strength - an avenging angel who had seen her at her most vulnerable and still looked at her like she was the most valuable thing in whole Prythian.

Gwyn sighed contentedly, no one had ever made her feel this way - cherished, understood, completely herself. It was an indescribably good feeling. She didn't know what the future held for them, but she knew she wanted to spend every possible moment by his side.

The steam curled up from her cup of coffee, the heat warming her fingers as she and Azriel sat across from each other in their quiet corner.

"I guess, I should see Rhysand soon," Gwyn finally announced. "I ran away before he had a chance to talk to me."

Azriel's eyes softened, his shadows rippling around him in a gentle dance.

"I'll come with you. The way he's been acting lately... you shouldn't face him alone."

Gwyn's eyes sparkled with gratitude as she looked at Azriel, but there was also a newfound determination in her gaze.

"Thank you, but I need to do this on my own. I've come so far, and I can't always rely on others to face my challenges for me."

"Are you sure?" he asked, concern etched on his beautiful face.

"Absolutely," Gwyn replied with conviction. "Your support means everything to me though. But don't worry, I can handle broody Illyrians just fine."

She couldn't help but wink at him playfully and Azriel couldn't help but smile in return. "I trust your judgment, Gwyn. Just know that I'm here for you if you ever need me."

"Thank you, Az" she whispered, watching the wisps of darkness dance around them. "How have your shadows been in the last three weeks?"

Azriel's lips twitched. "Restless. They missed your laughter." Gwyn's breath caught at the smoldering look Azriel gave her. While she was contemplating how to respond, it was the Shadowsinger who broke the silence again, "About what happened in the pool..." He paused, seeming to search for the right words. "I don't want you to feel like I took advantage of you in any way. If I moved too fast, or did something you weren't comfortable with, I apologize. It was not my intention."

Warmth flooded Gwyn's cheeks as she remembered Azriel's hands and mouth on her body. "You didn't take advantage of me," she said softly. "Quite the opposite, in fact."

Azriel's movement faltered. "What do you mean?"

"I wanted it," Gwyn met his gaze. "Wanted you. Every touch, every kiss. You made me feel..." She shook her head, at a loss for words. Loved. Cherished. Complete.

Azriel's eyes darkened, and Gwyn saw the flicker of desire in their golden depths. "As you made me feel," he rasped. His whole posture tensed and for a moment Gwyn thought he might pull her close for a kiss. She found herself leaning towards him, her heart racing with anticipation. But then Azriel took a steadying breath and leaned away from her, if just the slightest bit.

"What I mean is," she said softly. "If anyone took advantage of anyone, it was me taking advantage of you."

Azriel's brows drew together in confusion. "I don't understand."

Gwyn chuckled, "Did you think me joining you in the pool and everything that followed after, was part of the ritual?" Azriel blushed. "I wanted you so badly I threw aside all caution and reserve just to feel you."

Azriel was silent again as he absorbed her words. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "You could never take advantage of me, Gwyn. I wanted it just as much. I've dreamed of being with you for longer than I care to admit, but we should take things slow," he said quietly. "As much as I want you, Gwyn, you mean too much to me to rush into this."

Disappointment flickered through her, but she nodded. Azriel was right—they had only just confessed their feelings for one another. As desperately as she wanted him, it was too soon.

"You're worth every wait," Azriel murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. His knuckles lingered on her cheek, rough and calloused, yet infinitely gentle.

She leaned into his touch with a soft sigh. "As are you."

Gwyn traced her finger along the rim of her coffee cup, gathering her thoughts once more. "Since things have changed between us," she began slowly. "There are some points I need to clarify."

Their eyes met, and Gwyn could see the fear and hesitance in his gaze, worried about what she might say.

"I understand that there are certain things you can't disclose because of your role as the Spymaster. But when it comes to matters concerning me or you, I need you to be honest and open with me. No more secrets." She waited for a promise from him before continuing.

Azriel looked down, ashamed that she felt the need to extract such a promise from him. But he understood - with his history of concealing truths and shouldering burdens alone, she had no reason to blindly trust he wouldn't do the same to her again.

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. His voice was low and fervent. "I promise you, no more secrets."

"Which leads me to my next point..." Gwyn took a deep breath before continuing. "I know your past still haunts you. The abuse you endured, the hate against your own people, against yourself." Azriel tensed, his jaw clenching, but this time Gwyn squeezed his hand reassuringly." And I understand the urge to shut others out when the darkness becomes too much to bare. But please," her voice cracked, "don't shut me out then. Not when we've come this far."

Azriel's throat tightened.

"You don't have to carry the burden all by yourself." It was her time to reach up and tenderly brush back a lock of hair from his forehead. "Not anymore. I'm here for you."

He knew exactly what she was talking about and Azriel only now realized how much he had hurt her. His voice was thick with emotion as he spoke, "I'm sorry. You're right - after you gave me that book, I withdrew from you. I was too...overwhelmed. No one has ever done anything like that for me before. Seen me like that, known me like that."

He took a shuddering breath, gripping her hand tighter. "You peeled back layers I've spent centuries concealing. I felt exposed, vulnerable. So I retreated back into darkness, where it was safe."

Heart pounding, Azriel slowly lifted her hand to his lips. He kissed her knuckles tenderly. Her skin was petal-soft beneath his mouth. When he finally met her gaze again, her eyes were shining.

"I see now how unfair it was to you. You bared your soul to me in those pages and I repaid you with cold silence." He took a deep breath. "That book was the most beautiful gift I've ever received. To know you see me, scars and shadows and all, and still think me worthy of this story and your time..." His voice broke off.

"Of course I do." Gwyn smiled gently. "You are worthy of so much more than you allow yourself to believe," she said softly. "You have a pure heart. It is full of light. I see it in your devotion, your loyalty, the tenderness and care you show when you think no one is watching."

She smiled, love radiating from her eyes. "You say no one has ever seen you like I do. Well, no one has ever seen me like you do either. Nesta and you were the first to see past the trauma and self-loathing and helped me feel worthy again… of life … of love."

Azriel tenderly cradled her face in his hands. "You are a gift, Gwyn." he whispered reverently. "You make me want to be better, do better. I promise, no more shutting you out. I will try to let you in, even when it's hard."

Gwyn's smile widened. "That's all I ask."

He drew in a ragged breath, blinking back the sting in his eyes. "I don't deserve you, Gwyn. But I will spend every day trying to be the male you believe me to be."

Azriel paused, then leaned in hesitantly. Gwyn's breath caught as their lips met in a gentle, affectionate kiss. When they broke apart, she whispered "You already are, Azriel. You already are."

****

Azriel reveled in the feeling of Gwyn's hand comfortably clasped in his, as they strolled along the Sidra.

He couldn't take his eyes off Gwyn. The way the morning sun lit up her hair, turning the coppery strands into molten fire. The soft smile that played on her lips, lighting up her whole face. She walked with a grace that was both powerful and gentle, her strength evident in her smooth strides. He still couldn't believe someone as good and kind as Gwyn wanted him.

Gwyn gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, as if she could read his thoughts. "I meant what I said earlier. I'm here for you, Azriel. However you need me to be."

Azriel smiled softly. "I know. And I meant it too. I want to try, Gwyn. I want to be open with you. It's just...new. And I'm scared to do something wrong."

She nodded, teal eyes gentle. "This is new for me too, you know. Let's just figure it out together."

They walked in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the city coming alive around them. Azriel knew they should discuss what to tell the others. Nesta, Cassian, Rhys.

But the thought of sharing this fragile new bond caused Azriel's chest to tighten. He wasn't ready. Wasn't ready for their well-meaning interference or pointed questions. For once, he wanted to be selfish. To enjoy these tender moments with Gwyn, the possibility of something real.

Azriel met her gaze, voice soft. "Please don't misinterpret this, but...could we hold off on telling everyone for a little while longer? I'd rather they didn't interfere just yet."

Gwyn smiled up at him in understanding. "No I get it. This is ours, Azriel. At least for now."

Relief flooded through him. She always knew exactly what he needed. Azriel lifted her hand and softly kissed her knuckles. "Thank you, Gwyn," he murmured. "For understanding."

Gwyn kept glancing at him, when they reached the foot of the House.

"What is it?" Azriel asked, catching her gaze.

She gathered her courage and said softly, "Is it bad that I can't stop thinking of all the ways I'd like to make you lose control again?"

Azriel stumbled on a loose stone in the path, nearly falling flat on his face in surprise at her bold words.

Gwyn laughed and caught his arm to steady him. "Careful there."

He turned to her with wide eyes, a slight blush on his sharp cheekbones. Warmth flooded his chest, as he looked down at her. When had he become so besotted? So utterly lovesick that a few suggestive words from her could make him loose his footing.

He thought of her lips, swollen from his kisses, wet against his skin. Azriel shook his head, trying to clear the images. But it was no use. One look at Gwyn's smiling face and he was lost again, drunk on love and desire.

She bit her lip, emboldened. "I can't stop thinking about it, about you. The way you touched me, tasted me..." She trailed off, the memories making her shiver. "I've never felt something so intense before. And I want to feel that again, with you."

Azriel seemed stunned into silence.

"I am not as fragile as you seem to believe, Shadowsinger," she purred. "I know what I want." In one swift motion, she grabbed the front of his leathers and pulled him close, savoring the sharp gasp that escaped his lips.

Azriel's eyes seemed to glow with anticipation as he stared down at her lips. "As my lady commands," he growled, before claiming her lips in a fiery kiss that left them both breathless.

As their lips finally parted, he whispered in her ear with a sultry tone, "I will make you feel that way again. Until you can't stand, think, or even breathe... if that is what you wish, I promise. And I will do it with pleasure."

Gwyn shivered, his heated words sending thrills down her spine. She knew Azriel was holding back for her sake, worried she wasn't ready after the horrors she had endured. But Gwyn was determined to move forward, to reclaim her body and find joy again.

And she wanted that joy to be with Azriel. Only Azriel.

They walked up the winding streets, hands clasped. Azriel kept stealing glances at her, eyes still dark with desire. It was all Gwyn could do not to pull him into a shadowed alcove right then and there.

But she respected his wish to keep things private, for now and the chance to be seen here was way too high.

They parted ways in front of the library, Azriel brushing a soft kiss to her knuckles.

"I'll see you soon," he murmured, shadows curling around her in a last caress.

Gwyn's heart fluttered as she watched him disappear down the hall. She wanted nothing more than to call him back, lead him to her chambers and finish what they'd started in that pool.

But she would be patient. For both of their sakes..

Chapter Text

When Azriel joined group training in the next days again, he knew it was just a matter of time, till "someone" would make a stupid comment. By the way Nesta and Cassian were eyeing him, it would be a matter of seconds.

What followed though, was a display of all the reasons he did not want them to know about Gwyn and him yet.

As she entered the training ring a few moments after him, a secret smile formed on her lips as her eyes found his across the space.

He grinned back at her, the gesture lighting up his whole face, before a head of blond hair came right into his view.

"Well, well, look who finally decided to show up," Mor drawled loudly as she sauntered over.

Azriel tensed, shooting her a quelling look which she blithely ignored.

"So where exactly were you the past couple of weeks?" Mor asked, folding her arms across her chest. "Not even Rhys could give us any further information, only that you have asked to be taken off duty."

Naturally, his brother couldn't resist adding a comment to that as well...

"Not to mention…", Cassian’s grin was positively wicked as he looked over to Gwyn. "That you returned at the same time our wandering songbird has." His brown eyes gleamed with mischief.

Gwyn gritted her teeth against the blush rising on her cheeks. "I don’t know what you are talking about.”

Azriel remained silent, jaw tight, as Cassian barked out a laugh, slapping him on the back. "Of course not. Silly me." His eyes danced between them, that infuriating smirk still plastered on his face. "You two certainly were gone for a long time. I hope the...temple of silence...wasn’t too taxing."

"It's was quite alright." Gwyn said evenly.

Mor smirked. "That's not a denial."

Azriel crossed his arms, shadows writhing.

"Drop it, Mor," he rumbled.

"Or what?" she challenged.

The two stared each other down. Why had he chased after this female for 500 years? She could be incredibly aggravating, couldn't she?

Finally Azriel bit out, "Gwyn and I were gone away, separately."

Emerie raised a brow. "Uh huh. Sure you were."

Azriel's eyes darkened, but before he could respond, Gwyn stepped forward, chin lifted.

"Yes, we were. Now are we training or gossiping like old fishwives?"

Cassian barked out a laugh as Emerie's mouth dropped open. Shortly after they resumed to their usual training sessions.

Azriel shot Gwyn a grateful look and as they dispersed, no one noticed as he brushed his knuckles discreetly across her lower back.

Later on Gwyn waited until the others had left before approaching him again.

"Are you all right?" she asked softly. "I'm sorry about the teasing."

Azriel shrugged, though his eyes softened. "It was to be expected." His gaze slid over her, lingering on her mouth, and heat sparked in her blood.

"I wish we didn't have to hide this," she whispered.

Azriel's shadows curled around her as he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. The touch was feather-light, yet it sent sparks across her skin.

"As do I. But for now, it's for the best, as you can clearly tell by their childish behaviour."

Gwyn nodded, leaning into his hand. His thumb traced her bottom lip and her breath caught. Slowly, giving her time to pull away, Azriel lowered his head.

Their lips were a hairsbreadth apart when Gwyn murmured, "Wait."

Azriel froze, shadows trembling.

"They could see," Gwyn said.

Azriel nodded, though frustration flickered across his face. "You're right." He took a step back and raked a hand through his hair.

Gwyn glanced at the sun. "Cassian and I are suppossed to meet here again in a bit. He is going to take me to the Riverhouse for my lesson with Rhysand and I need to change before that."

Azriel's jaw tightened, "Why didn't you ask me to take you?" he asked.

Gwyn raised an eyebrow. "Too obvious."

"But after training, you're mine." A fierce heat spread across her cheeks, fueled by the possessive edge in his voice.

"Yes, Shadowsinger," she said quietly, her breath hitching as she spoke, "I will meet you in your study afterwards." Gwyn turned and hurried away before she could succumb to the temptation of kissing his beautiful lips.

----

Gwyn's heart pounded heavy in her chest as the walls of the room seemed to close in on her, a suffocating embrace that left her breathless. Rhysand, stood before her with an air of regal authority, his eyes gleaming like dark sapphires in the light.

"Go on, sing," he commanded. Gwydion, the starsword, lay atop a pedestal in the center of the room. It was the very weapon she had used to fight the monsters with at Ramiel and the one that had glowed at her singing. But it wasn't glowing now.

Gwyn swallowed hard and as she opened her mouth to sing, Rhysand's unwavering gaze bore into her, making her skin crawl with discomfort. She knew he was assessing her every move, every note that escaped her lips, but it only served to heighten her unease. Her voice shook ever so slightly, a delicate tremor that betrayed her inner turmoil.

The sound of her voice filled the room, a haunting melody that reverberated off the walls. She willed herself to ignore his observation, to focus on her song, but she didn’t succseed.

As the last note hung in the air, the oppressive silence that followed felt heavier than before. Rhysand's gaze never wavered, his eyes analyzing her as if she were a puzzle to be solved.

Gwyn couldn't help but feel exposed, vulnerable beneath his piercing stare, and she desperately wished for the comfort of Azriel's presence.

"Again," he instructed, voice cold and detached. It was nothing like the warmth and tenderness she was used to from him. What had changed?

Gwyn clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she tried to find the elusive magic within her.

"Nothing," Gwyn whispered, her voice strained with frustration. "I don't understand why it won't work." She stared at the starsword, willing it to respond to her song, to glow as brilliantly as it had before. But it remained stubbornly inert, mocking her inability to unlock its secrets.

Rhysand sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. His violet eyes were narrowed in thought, but there was no hiding the exasperation behind them. "Perhaps there's something blocking your powers, something we can't see or understand," he suggested. "Would you allow me to enter your mind and search for any possible barriers?"

Gwyn's heart skipped a beat, panic flooding her veins as icy tendrils of fear coiled around her chest. The thought of Rhysand delving into her thoughts, her memories, seeing her past, seeing Azriel,… no. She couldn’t let that happen.

"No," she blurted out, too quickly, her breath hitching as she tried to come up with a plausible reason. "I... I just don't think it would be helpful."

Her excuse sounded feeble even to her own ears, and she knew Rhysand must have seen right through it. He studied her for a moment, the intensity of his gaze making her squirm. She could sense his suspicions, but, to her relief, he didn't push the matter further.

"Very well," Rhysand conceded, his voice tight with restrained frustration. "But remember, Gwyn, if we are to work together, you must be willing to trust me. Completely."

Gwyn swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words like a stone in her stomach. She nodded, her throat suddenly parched.

Rhysand's eyes narrowed, his gaze piercing through Gwyn like a sharpened blade. He knew she was hiding something.

But then he motioned for her to try again.

And Gwyn did. Her voice rang out clear and haunting, filling the small room with its ethereal beauty.

The door to the practice room suddenly burst open, and Feyre entered with baby Nyx cradled in her arms. She stared at Gwyn in wonder, her eyes wide and shining with admiration. "That voice... It's incredible, Gwyn. I've never heard anything so beautiful."

"Stop!" Rhysand shouted, his voice cracking with panic. He leaped to his feet, his face pale and taut with fear. "Feyre, please, bring Nyx away. You can't be here right now."

Gwyn's song came to an abrupt halt, her throat seizing as she stared at Rhysand in confusion. She had never seen him so visibly distressed, and it sent a chill down her spine. What was he so afraid of?

"Rhys, what's wrong?" Feyre asked, concern etched across her lovely features. Nyx stirred in her arms, his tiny fingers reaching out as if sensing the tension in the air.

"Please, Feyre," Rhysand pleaded, his voice strained. "I’ll explain later."

Without even giving her a chance to say goodbye, Feyre hurried out of the room, her expression filled with worry. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving Gwyn alone with Rhysand once again.

As she stood there, her heart pounding in her chest, Gwyn could no longer bear the weight of Rhysand's concern.

"Rhysand," she whispered, her voice trembling as she fought back tears. "What are you afraid of? Why did you make Feyre leave?"

But Rhysand said nothing, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions that Gwyn couldn't begin to decipher. And as the silence stretched between them, a cold dread settled deep within her soul. "I could never hurt them. You have to know that."

"Of course, I know you don't intent to, Gwyn," Rhysand replied softly. "But we don't yet know the extent of your powers or how they might manifest. That uncertainty makes it difficult for me to take any risks."

She bit her lip, struggling with the weight of his words. The thought that her abilities could inadvertently cause anyone harm filled her with a deep sense of shame. And the idea that Rhysand saw her as a potential threat to his own family only made that shame burn hotter.

"Maybe... Maybe we should just stop for today," Gwyn whispered, unable to meet Rhysand's gaze again. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

"Alright," Rhys agreed, his voice gentle and understanding. "We can pick up where we left next time then."

———

Gwyn stood outside Azriel's study, the sound of her own heartbeat drowning out the faint rustle of her robes as she hesitated for a moment before raising her hand to knock on the door.

"Enter," came Azriel's low voice in return.

She pushed the door open and stepped inside, finding him seated behind his desk, his muscular frame clothed in a dark tunic.

As she entered, he looked up from the papers strewn before him, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in her disheveled appearance and the hollow sadness that clung to her like a shroud.

"What’s wrong," he stated, his voice heavy with concern as he rose from his chair and crossed the room to meet her halfway.

Before she could react, Azriel reached up and gently pulled the hood from her head, his fingers brushing against her cheeks as he cupped her face in his hands. His touch was warm and surprisingly gentle.

"Tell me," he urged.

But Gwyn couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes, knowing that if she did, the dam holding back her emotions would burst and that was not how she wanted to spend her evening with him. Instead, she leaned her forehead against his chest, letting his steady heartbeat beneath calm her like a soothing lullaby.

"I just missed you," she whispered.

Azriel's arms tightened around her, his hands moving soothingly up and down her back.

"Remember our agreement, Gwyn," he said softly, lifting her face gently by her chin with two fingers, forcing her to look into his eyes. "No keeping things from each other."

Her big, beautiful teal eyes gazed back at him, shimmering with unshed tears yet defiant in their honesty. It was this mixture of vulnerability and strength that had drawn Azriel to her in the first place, and he found himself once again captivated by her resilience.

"Using my own words against me, huh?" she challenged.

"I'm not using anything against you," Azriel replied, his voice low and soothing. "I just want to know why you look so defeated."

Gwyn hesitated for a moment, her lips parting as if to speak, then closing again as she struggled to find the right words. She knew that Azriel could sense her turmoil, and the fact that he cared enough to ask, to truly listen, made her heart swell with gratitude.

"Rhysand's training didn't go as planned," she admitted reluctantly. "And it's hard to see myself as someone worthy of his trust when I can't even control my own powers."

"Hey," Azriel murmured, his thumbs brushing away the stray tears that had escaped her eyes. "You are more than deserving of trust, Gwyn. You're strong, capable, and kind. Just because today didn't go well doesn't mean you won't succeed in the end. We all have setbacks; it's how we learn and grow."

His words were spoken with such unwavering belief in her, that she couldn't help but smile in return.

Leave it to the Shadowsinger to make her feel better … of course.

"Thank you," she said, "Rhys thinks I might be a threat to Nyx and Feyre, though." her voice dropped to a whisper and her little smile was forgotten.

Azriel's eyes flashed with an inner fire, his jaw clenching as a low growl escaped him. "What?" His shadows swirled around them, pulsing with his rage.

"He has no right to think that of you, Gwyn. I'll have a talk to him.",he spat the word 'talk' as if it were venom.

But Gwyn shook her head, her hand reaching out to grasp his bicep, fingers digging in slightly. "No," she stated firmly. Her touch seemed to both calm and electrify him simultaneously, and Azriel stilled at her vehemence. "I don't want you to fight my battles for me, Azriel. But" –her voice wavered– "it hurts to think that he would keep his mate and child away from me because of what I might do."

Azriel's anger subsided, replaced by a protective warmth that enveloped Gwyn like a comforting embrace. "I understand you want to do this alone, Gwyn, but", his voice was gentle yet insistent, "what am I supposed to do? Now I know how uncomfortable you are. And it's absurd that he'd think that of you... if he had been there at Ramiel, he would know…“

"But he wasn’t. And I can’t let him in my head, can I? He will find it’s full of memories of you... us..."

Their eyes locked, the intensity of their connection tangible, as they stood there, searching for the answers in each other's gaze. Gwyn could see the fierce loyalty and protectiveness that burned within Azriel, and she knew that he would do anything to defend her, even fight his own brother.

"Alright," he conceded, his voice rough with the effort of restraining himself. "Then I'll be by your side during your next session with Rhys. I will make sure you're comfortable and safe."

Gwyn bit her lip, uncertain. "I don't want you to think that I can't handle this myself, Az," she protested. "I'm not weak, and I don't need you to constantly watch over me."

His fingers gently tilted her chin up again, forcing her to meet his gaze. "I know you're strong, Gwyn," he murmured, his voice as tender as the brush of his thumb against her cheek. "But even the strongest among us sometimes need support. Trust me, I've been there myself."

She hesitated, torn between her pride and the undeniable comfort of having him by her side. But as she looked into his eyes, seeing the vulnerability he so rarely allowed others a glimpse of, she realized that perhaps accepting help wasn't a sign of weakness after all.

"Alright," she relented, her voice barely above a whisper. "You can come." And a slow smile spread across Azriel's face.

Gwyn rose on her tiptoes, the motion bringing her closer to Azriel's lips. She reached up, brushing her fingers against his sharp cheekbones and drawing him down to her level. Their lips met gently and as they broke apart, Gwyn whispered, "Thank you for caring."

Azriel's eyes searched hers and when he murmured, his voice was raw with sincerity, "If only you knew how much I care, Gwyn."

"Show me," she challenged him, her voice low and husky, matching the intensity of his gaze.

A smile played at the edges of his lips as he wrapped his arms around her waist. With a sudden movement, he lifted her up, his hands supporting her just under her buttocks. Gwyn let out a soft giggle at the unexpected sensation, her laughter was like music to Azriel's ears.

He carried her across the room, stopping in front of a small couch nestled in the corner of his study. Gently, he set her back on her feet but kept one arm securely around her, turning her so that her back was to him. Before her lay a table laden with dinner, wine, and even dessert. The candles flickering on the table cast a warm, inviting light over the spread, and the scent of a lovingly prepared meal filled the air.

How had she not noticed this before?

She turned back to face him. "Is this for me?" Gwyn asked, her teal eyes wide with surprise and appreciation.

"Of course," Azriel replied. "I wanted to make sure you were taken care of, even if there was a chance you had already eaten at the Riverhouse."

The weight of his tender consideration for her overwhelmed Gwyn, and without a second thought, she spun around fully and crashed her lips against his, surprising him mid-smile.

For a moment, Azriel seemed caught off guard, but he quickly recovered and returned the passionate kiss with equal fervor.

Their mouths danced together in a heated exchange, as Gwyn's hands tangled in Azriel's dark hair, pulling him closer. In response his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her tight against his powerful frame.

As they broke apart, both breathless and flushed, Gwyn murmured, "It wasn't a lie when I said I missed you. I did... and even though your thoughtfulness is the sweetest thing ever, what I need right now is you, not food." Azriel's eyes darkened in return.

Gwyn gently nudged him backwards and although he could have easily withstood her strengthwise, he found himself powerless to resist her once more.

She guided him back until he sank into the plush cushions of the couch, his gaze never leaving her.

With deliberate slowness, Gwyn removed her light blue priestess robes, folding them neatly before laying them on the armchair nearby. Azriel watched her every movement, his eyes consuming the sight of her exposed skin like a starving man finally given sustenance.

As Gwyn stood before him in her light blue chemise, the soft fabric barely concealing her lithe form, the room seemed to grow warmer, the air thick with anticipation and an undeniable undercurrent of passion.

Her pale, freckled skin shimmered in the dim light, the graceful curve of her collarbone and the long expanse of her arms and legs beckoning for his touch. Azriel remained still, his body tense as he fought to maintain control of his desires, wanting nothing more than to claim her, yet unwilling to rush her or push her beyond her limits.

As Gwyn crossed the distance between them, Azriel's breath came in shallow pants. Every step she took was a tantalizing dance, each subtle sway of her hips sending a shiver down his spine and igniting a fire in his veins.

"Show me," Gwyn whispered, her teal eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and determination. "Show me how much you care, Azriel."

Chapter Text

Gwyn bit her lip, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she straddled Azriel, making him hitch a breath at the unexpected contact.

She could feel the heat radiating from his body, evidence of his arousal despite his attempts to stay in control for her sake. He held her in place by her waist, positioning her over his thigh instead of his groin, trying to keep her from feeling just how much he wanted her.

"Is something wrong?" Gwyn asked gently, noticing the tension in Azriel's body and the way he seemed to be struggling to maintain his composure.

"I thought we were taking things slow," Azriel replied, his voice strained but controlled.

"Slow doesn't mean stopping," Gwyn said casually, a hint of flirtation coloring her words. "Besides, I hardly feel appropriately dressed in my priestess robes around you."

Azriel raised an eyebrow, his gaze probing. "And this is appropriately dressed now?"

Gwyn leaned back on his thighs, tucking her hair behind her shoulder with deliberate sensuality. The movement caused her collarbone to become even more prominent, a part of her, she had noticed his eyes linger on.

"Are you trying to kill me?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course not," Gwyn whispered, leaning in so that her breath tickled his ear. "But I am trying to get you to touch me."

"I am touching you," Azriel retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Gwyn laughed softly before guiding one of his hands from her waist to her bare thigh. Her skin was creamy and smooth, a stark contrast to the calloused roughness of his hand. Azriel couldn't help but remember the last time he had kissed her there, the memory of her taste forever etched in his soul.

"My skin, I mean," Gwyn clarified, as if it was necessary. She leaned in closer, her teal eyes meeting his with a teasing glint. "One might assume you're the one with hardly any experience here, the way you're shaking."

Azriel swallowed hard, the corners of his mouth twitching into a barely-there smile. But beneath the playfulness, an undercurrent of uncertainty lingered, betraying the vulnerability that they both felt. And it was that vulnerability, that raw honesty, that made this moment between them all the more intense, all the more real.

"Touch me, Azriel," Gwyn whispered again, her voice filled with longing and trust. "Show me how much you care."

As if in answer to her words, Azriel's shadows danced around them, their song filled with yearning and desire.

They swirled around Gwyn's legs, caressing her ankles before coiling around his forearms again, before moving up to her neck.

Gwyn closed her eyes, basking in the sensation of their touch. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought they could do something like that.

"Goddess, Az," she said, her back arching slightly as the shadows stroked her skin like the sensual, skilled hands of a lover.

"They're... they're so soft," Gwyn breathed, her voice half-moan, half-whisper.

Encouraged by her words, Azriel allowed his shadows to venture more, their essence like silk against her heated skin. They trailed along her collarbone, circling around the delicate curve of her neck before dipping lower. She shivered as they traced a path down her chest, through the valley between her breasts before stopping just short of the swell of her breasts.

"Imagine what they'd feel like on other parts of you," Azriel rasped, his voice low and deep.

Gwyn bit down on her lower lip, eyes still shut as she fought to contain a moan.

"Oh, I am imagining," she breathed out as they spiraled around her nipples and Gwyn now openly moaned at the sensations across her nerves as they teased her nipples through her dress.

Azriel's body was on fire as he let his shadows worship her.

He wanted to touch her, too, feel her soft skin under his fingertips. But the look on her face, the sheer ecstasy that was written there, the way she arched into their touch, was enough for now.

Slowly, as if in a trance, Gwyn reached one of her own hands out towards the shadow coiling around her wrist. She let it wind around her fingers, marveling at the cool silkiness of it. Shivers of pleasure ran down her spine and she gasped aloud, slightly tensing up.

Azriel growled deep in his chest, feeling a surge of lust low in his belly.

"What do you want next?" he rasped out, his voice gravelly with desire.

Gwyn opened her eyes, which now shone like pools of liquid moonlight. "I want them...", she trailed a finger down her cleavage and towards her most sensitive part, "to touch me there."

The shadows followed her command and slipped further down her body until they hovered just above the hem of her dress. Gwyn had to grab on his forearms to steady herself.

Azriel watched with a mixture of fascination and hunger as they glided along her thighs, their movements slow and deliberate. Gwyn's breathing grew heavier and her grip on this arms tightened as she desperately tried to hold back the waves of pleasure coursing through her.

But the shadows were relentless in their pursuit much like their master. They ghosted over the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, inching closer and closer to where she needed them most. Gwyn let out a low groan, unable to hold back any longer.

"Please," she gasped out, "I can't take it anymore."

As she begged, Azriel's possessive instincts flared up, having his self-control hanging by a thread. Without hesitation, he let his shadows slip over the fabric of her underwear and brush against her core. Gwyn cried out in return.

The sight of her ecstasy, the sound of her voice pleading for more, was all it took for him to lose it all. He let his shadows slip under the last remaining fabric and brush against her fully, eliciting a loud moan from Gwyn as her hips bucked up towards them.

Gwyn's head fell back as she gave in to the pleasure coursing through her body. Azriel's shadows were unlike anything she had ever experienced before- cool and ethereal yet still somehow tangible. With each touch, they seemed to awaken every nerve ending in her body, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout.

Azriel watched with dark eyes as Gwyn writhed underneath their touch, his own arousal growing with each moan that escaped her lips. His shadows were an extension of himself, a manifestation of his desires and yet they also seemed to have a mind of their own, caressing Gwyn in ways that made him want to claim her even more fiercely now.

Without breaking contact with Gwyn's writhing form, Azriel leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss. He groaned as he tasted the sweetness of her mouth, hungrily exploring every inch as if trying to memorize the feeling. Between them, his shadows continued their ministrations on Gwyn's trembling body, bringing her closer and closer to climax with each passing moment.

Gwyn clutched onto Azriel's shoulders as she surrendered completely to the sensations washing over her.

"Look at me," he growled lowly in response, his voice barely recognizable as his own. "I want to see your beautiful face when you come undone."

Gwyn whimpered in response, her lips parting on a gasp as the orgasm hit her like a tidal wave. Wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her as she arched her back, her nails digging into Azriel's shoulder. His name was a keening cry on her lips as she shattered apart in his arms.

Throughout it all, his shadows continued their worship of her body, prolonging her climax until she was nothing but a boneless, very wet mass in his arms.

Panting heavily, Gwyn's eyelids fluttered closed as she tried to catch her breath.

Azriel's chest heaved, his heart thundering in his ribcage. It was one thing to watch Gwyn let his shadows pleasure her - his shadows which so wrongly were accused of being his curse, but in fact originated from deep within his soul - and it was another thing entirely to know that they - him - had brought her that look of bliss.

He had witnessed countless pleasures and agonies, but none were comparable to this. To Gwyn.

The thought of him being the source of her happiness filled him with such a warmth, that he couldn’t help but glance quickly at his own skin for any signs of scorching, afraid that he might spontaneously combust from the intensity of his emotions.

Gwyn's heart was still racing as she tried to catch her breath, her body humming with the remnants of pleasure.

Slowly, the world came back into focus as she became aware of the fact that Azriel's shadows had retreated from her body, leaving behind only the cool night air in their wake.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her intently, his golden-brown hues swirling with emotion. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he struggled to control himself.

"Gods above, Gwyn," he breathed, his voice ragged with desire. "You have no idea what that just did to me."

This creature before him – so beautiful and strong and scarred – had chosen him, trusted him with her secrets and her heart and now her body? It was more than he had ever hoped for - wished for.

"You're stunning," he continued,"Especially right now, after your orgasm." He reached out a pensive hand to brush a strand of hair away, revealing one perfect, freckled shoulder. "I've never seen anything more beautiful."

Gwyn's cheeks flushed at his words, arousal surging up again at the reverence in his tone. She couldn't believe that someone like Azriel could be affected by her in such a way. For so long she had felt unwanted and undesired, but now in this moment, she felt nothing but wanted by this powerful fae male.

"I-I...," she began, but words failed her. What do you say to someone who has given you the most incredible orgasms of your life?

Gwyn reached up and cupped Azriel's cheek, her thumb tracing over the strong line of his jaw as she gazed into his eyes.

"I never thought I could feel this way," she continued. "After everything that happened, I didn't think I was capable of letting someone in again. But you make me feel safe, Azriel. Treasured. Desired."

"You deserve all of that and more," he murmured.

Azriel turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to her palm. "Just tell me what you need," he rasped. "I want to give you everything."

Gwyn shivered at the promise in his words. Slowly, she drew him down into a sensual kiss, pouring all of her longing and trust into it. When they finally broke for air, she nuzzled against his neck, inhaling his scent.

"Just you," she whispered. "I just need you."

Azriel made a sound low in his throat, a purely primal sound, before he grabbed her face and kissed her with all the pent-up passion and longing he had been keeping at bay.

Their kiss was a slow burn that threatened to consume them both.

Gwyn moaned softly into his mouth, as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers in a dance that seemed to have no end.

But as much as he wanted to lose himself in this moment forever, Azriel knew that he needed to slow things down. So he pulled away from Gwyn's lips, his breaths ragged as he tried to regain control of himself.

"I don't want you to regret this at some point," he said hoarsely, stroking Gwyn's cheek with his thumb, "which is why we need to stop."

"I could never regret being with you," Gwyn replied without hesitation. She placed a hand over Azriel's heart and met his gaze with unwavering sincerity. "And there is something else I really want to try."

Azriel closed his eyes briefly before nodding and leaning in for another kiss. This time it was slow and gentle, a declaration of their feelings for each other instead of a desperate release.

Whatever Azriel had expected Gwyn wanted to try, wasn't her slipping from his lap to her knees in front of him, though.

His eyes widened in panic as realization dawned. She reached for his pants, fumbling with the laces.

"Gwyn," he rasped, stopping her midway by grasping her hands in his."You don't have to..."

"I want to," she interrupted him firmly, gazing up at him with such an intensity, that he had no choice but to let her continue with her exploration. His cock twitched against his trousers, as if agreeing with her sentiment.

She must have noticed his arousal, because a pretty blush crept up her cheeks, but she didn't back down. Instead, she continued to unlace his pants.

"I've heard it's...a way to pleasure a male," she mumbled, clearly embarrassed by her lack of experience.

Azriel swallowed hard, imagining how her soft lips would feel against him. He groaned just at the thought.

"It is... Gwyn, are you sure?" he asked one last time, just to be sure she knew what she was getting herself into.

"Mhmm," she hummed in response before she finally freed him from his confinement.

The cool night air hit his shaft and his senses instantly heightened to the max. Everywhere her eyes touched him felt as if they were on fire.

He hissed as she gingerly wrapped her hand around his length, weighing his girth in her palm, probably assessing how to get it into her mouth.

"Mother be damned, you are so big," she breathed.

"Gwyn," he groaned, with a mix of mortification and arousal.

She looked at him with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Maybe you could guide me a bit."

His heart stuttered in his chest, but he couldn't deny her anything. Not when she looked at him like that with such determination and desire in her eyes, kneeling in front of him.

"Just... just take it slow, alright?” he managed to say. "Start with the head. You don’t have to take it all in. You can use your hands too." Gwyn nodded.

Azriel gasped out as she leaned in, her warm breath fanning over his erection.

He had to clutch the sofa, preparing for what was about to come. But still as her lips brushed against the tip of him, sending shockwaves straight to his core, he could have lost his mind right then and there.

But then she moaned and undid him for good. "I didn’t know you would taste this...good," she mumbled against his skin.

As response a deep growl left him and his hips bucked involuntarily. He had to bit back a curse. "Sorry," he apologized, "when you talk like that... I can hardly control myself."

She pulled back and looked up at him with those innocent eyes of hers. "Than don’t," she purred before engulfing him even more.

Moans spilled from his lips unbidden as she took more of him into her soft mouth, sucking gently. She guided herself by his reactions, increasing pressure where he moaned louder and slowing down when he tensed up too much.

In all his 530 years of existence, he had never felt a touch like hers: soft yet insistent, hesitant but determined.

And he couldn't tear his eyes away from the sight of her kneeling before him with such focus on pleasuring him, her cheeks flushing a pretty shade of pink as she bobbed her head up and down his length.

Her free hand gripped the base of him tightly, stroking in time with her mouth, keeping his leaking cock wet.

"Gwyn," he moaned, feeling himself reaching his edge too quickly. "Wait," he begged.

His plea had the opposite effect though, she only increased her pace, taking more of him in at once and sucking even harder. His toes curled in pleasure and his fists clenched the cushions beneath him harder.

"Gwyn," he growled out as another wave of pleasure hit him hard and fast. He was done for.

"I'm so close," he moaned, hoping she would understand his plea.

Instead she redoubled her efforts, her tongue swirling around the sensitive spot on the underside of his cock just where it was joined with his body. That was it.

The last thing Azriel felt before everything exploded behind his eyes were her name on his lips and the most intense pleasure clouding his mind as he came inside her waiting mouth.

He panted heavily as his orgasm waned, his wings unfurled fully in ecstasy before folding back around them both like a protective cocoon. The world around them muted once more as he stared into Gwyn's eyes, after she had swallowed every drop he’d given her.

Her lips were swollen and shining, her cheeks flushed and her hair a complete mess - never had she looked more beautiful to him.

"I-I'm...sorry," he stuttered, the first time in his life at a loss for words.

She grinned at him, wiping away the remaining spillage with the back of her hand. He groaned at the sight.

"For what?"

But Azriel's mind was reeling as he stared down at a satisfied-looking Gwyn, who licked her lips ever so slowly. There was nothing he could do but nod in response, his voice gone and his mind hazy with pleasure. He knew he should say something more poignant, something witty or heartfelt, but he could not find the words as she moved to straddle his lap again, pressing her body against his. Only when her hands roamed over his chest did he realize how much he was still dressed compared to her - minus his cock, which was still lying between them.

Her fingers tangled in the strands of hair that had fallen over his eyes. "Did you enjoy that?" her words brushed against his skin, sending shivers down his spine and reigniting the flames of desire within him that had only just been banked by her extraordinary ministrations.

Azriel groaned inwardly as he felt himself hardening again, already eager for more of her.

With a shaking hand, Azriel reached up, to brush a wild strand of her own hair back in place.

His fingers lingered along the delicate point of Gwyn's ear, tracing its shape reverently. Her eyes fluttered shut and she leaned into his touch, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

"That was..." he trailed off, unable to find the words.

"You were... ARE incredible," he said earnestly, holding her gaze.

Gwyn's cheeks colored prettily. "I wanted to make you feel good," she said.

Azriel's heart swelled. He pulled her close, nuzzling into her neck and breathing in her scent, which was now heavyly mixed with his. Gods, how was he suppossed to regain control here again.

"You did. More than I can say." He placed a gentle kiss below her ear. "Will you let me feed you now?"

Her stomach rumbled in answer, making them both chuckle.

"I guess that’s a yes," he teased.

Gwyn smiled softly and nodded, moving to slide off Azriel's lap. His cock was half hard against her thigh as she shifted, and she glanced down for a moment before meeting his heated gaze again.

Damn, she was going to be the end of him.

With a quiet curse and a red blush staining his cheeks,

he tucked himself back into his pants.

He had never thought that he would ever be in a situation like this with Gwyn, let alone with anyone. But gods, he didn't want it to end.

The food had gone cold on the table but neither of them minded as they sat down side by side on the couch, their thighs touching. The tension in the air was thick, but it was not uncomfortably so. More an anticipation of what was to come next.

He served her first, getting her wine and sitting down close to her once more. They ate in companionable silence at first, both lost in their thoughts.

Finally, Gwyn broke the silence "Thank you for letting me try..."

Azriel's cheeks burned but he smiled cheekily, twisting his head slightly "Are you thanking me, for letting you suck me off?"

Gwyn hit him playfully on the chest "You know what I meant."

"I do??" he chuckled, the teasing a way to ease the lingering tension between them.

He looked at her with a raised brow "Explain to me why I would not let you have your wicked way with me?"

Gwyn's face flamed up at his words."Because you secretly are a prude and always stop when it starts to get interesting." she huffed, while Azriel grinned at the redness, that spread now even further on her face.

"You are lucky I like you," she added.

"Lucky? Love, If I am not the most blessed male in whole Prythian, I don't know who is."

"You're terrible," she giggled, but the endearment warmed her heart.

"I know." He winked at her, then turned his attention back to their meal.

They continued eating, lazily feeding each other bites of food and sipping their wine, as the fire crackled in the background.

Gazing at her, he tallied how much Gwyn had changed and grown since he had met her. He was so damn proud of her, and every day that passed, his feelings for her only grew stronger.

He wasn't sure when it had happened exactly or even if he could pinpoint a specific moment, but somewhere along the way, his feelings for Gwyn had shifted from fondness to something far far more. Something he wanted to fight for, needed to fight for, because it seemed vital to do so.

And gods, did he feel it now as he sat here, his body still thrumming with desire for her.

It was as if he had waited his whole life for this - for her. And Azriel wouldn't let that go.

When he brought her back to the priestess dormitory that night, after having agreed that it would prompt questions, if she stayed with him instead, he realized how much he wanted everyone to know; that he was hers and she was his.

"Thank you... for today... for everything." she said softly, her eyes a kaleidoscope of emotions in the dim lighting of the corridor.

He reached out to cup her cheek in his palms, brushing a stray strand of hair away from her angelic face "You don't have to thank me ."

She leaned into his touch with a sigh.

"It was my pleasure," he breathed against her ear. "No pun intended."

Her jaw dropped and she hit his shoulder playfully, making him laugh. "Azriel!"

"And for the record," Azriel leaned in a bit closer, their breaths mingling. "I'm not a prude. I want you, Gwyn. More than I have ever wanted anyone. But I don't want to rush you. We have time... so much time. And I want to do right by you."

Gwyn's breath caught at his words, her heart swelling. She reached up to grasp his hand that still cupped her cheek.

"But you already do right by me, Azriel. More than anyone ever has." She turned her head, pressing a soft kiss to his palm.

His eyes darkened, shadows whipping around him. She wasn't afraid. She never was, not of him.

"I want you," she whispered, seeing the desire reflected in his gaze. "All of you. The good and the bad. The pain and the pleasure. All of it."

Azriel swallowed thickly.

Gwyn brushed her fingers along his jaw, making it tighten in response. "I've never been more sure of anything."

Azriel's heart pounded as he gazed into Gwyn's eyes, seeing the truth of her words reflected there.

"Gwyn," he rasped, "I don't want you to regret this. My past, the things I've done..." He trailed off, shadows curling in distress.

Gwyn shook her head, pressing closer until their bodies aligned. "I know who you are, Azriel. Not the spymaster, or the warrior, but the male underneath. I know you and I love you because of who you are."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he processed the unfamiliar words directed towards him.

"I love you too," he breathed, his voice cracking, as he moved her impossibly closer, his hands fisting in her hair.

Slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, kissing her with a tenderness that made her ache. One hand slid around her waist, pulling her flush against him, while the other tangled in her moon-spun hair. Gwyn melted into his embrace, her body molding to his.

The kiss deepened, their tongues tangling in a sensual dance, as Azriel's shadows swirled around them, enveloping them in an intimate darkness.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, he rested his forehead against hers.

After a few moments, Gwyn lifted her head to look at him, a soft smile on her face. "I should go now."

Azriel nodded reluctantly. As much as he wanted her to stay, he knew if she didn't leave now, she probably never would.

Brushing his knuckles along her cheek, he said, "Sweet dreams, my love."

She leaned in and pressed one last gentle kiss to his lips. "Goodnight, Azriel."

With great effort, Azriel released her from his embrace. He waited until she disappeared into her room before vanishing into shadows himself, reappearing in his own quarters.

Though it pained him to part from her, he knew it was the right thing to do. He would do everything in his power to make her happy,to give her time and to help her heal.

Azriel readied for bed with a lightness in his heart he hadn't felt in centuries. The shadows swirling around him seemed to whisper Gwyn's name and it made him chuckle. Gwyn had thoroughly put a spell on him - on all of him.

As he drifted off to sleep, his dreams were filled with visions of their future together. A life full of laughter, joy and passion. For the first time, the Shadowsinger dared to hope for the happiness he never thought he deserved.

"I love you, Gwyn." he said to her in his dreams.

"I know." she whispered back. "And I love you too."

Chapter Text

"Remember, you won't be alone," Azriel murmured gently, as they navigated through the Riverhouse towards Rhys' study. He could feel her fear of falling short as if it was his own.

Upon their entrance, Rhys's violet eyes narrowed in surprise and slight annoyance at the Shadowsinger's unexpected attendance. "I wasn't aware it required an entourage for our session," Rhys quipped sarcastically, though there was a discernible tension in his clenched jaw.

Azriel met his brother's questioning gaze head-on. "Given your actions last time, I deemed my presence here necessary."

The High Lord's gaze flickered between them, mouth contorting in displeasure."And how exactly did I act?"

"You acted like she wasn’t good enough, you unsettled her," Azriel retorted candidly, not sugarcoating the harsh reality for his brother’s benefit, "To top it off Rhys, you sent Feyre and Nyx away as if she were some kind of dangerous creature."

A blush of deep red spread across Gwyn's face as Azriel spoke. She would have preferred a more subtle approach rather than his blunt proclamation. It felt odd not to be the one speaking for herself, but she was silently thankful for his candidness and protective nature.

Right now, she doubted, she could have ever mustered the courage to be that open with Rhys herself.

"Is that so?" Rhysand swung his gaze towards her, his body tensing while his violet orbs drilled into Gwyn's soul. All she could manage was a hesitant "Yes."

She mentally berated herself for faltering under Rhysand's intense scrutiny - unlike Azriel who remained unyielding.

"Gwyn deserves to feel secure and at ease during these sessions, and I'll make sure she does," Azriel stated with unwavering determination in his voice.

"I apologize for distressing her," Rhys countered tersely. "But I can't ignore the potential danger-"

"No more dangerous than my shadows. Or your own gifts," Azriel interjected pointedly. "Magic is only as light or dark as the heart that wields it."

Rhysand snorted as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Need I remind you how catastrophic siren magic can be if uncontrolled? I'm simply looking out for my family's safety."

Gwyn's hands curled into tight balls at her sides, her nails piercing the skin of her palms as she battled to contain the tumult of emotions roiling within her. She shot a sidelong glance at Azriel, who stood as an unwavering bulwark beside her. His eyes blazed with an unyielding resolve, and from his rigid stance, Gwyn could tell he was ready to cross swords with Rhysand should the High Lord overstep his bounds.

"Rhys," Azriel rumbled in a voice that was low and fraught with danger, "you're well aware that Gwyn's magic bears no resemblance to the sirens we've crossed paths with before. It's distinct, untamed yes, but devoid of malevolence."

"Yet," Rhysand countered tersely. "But left unchecked, Gwyn's power has the potential to become equally devastating."

Gwyn felt a sharp pang in her heart at his words; they seemed to affirm her darkest fears. She turned away, feeling heat rise up to stain her cheeks in embarrassment.

"Apologies, Gwyn," Rhys muttered in a gentler tone than previously used. "I didn't intend for it to come out that way."

Azriel snorted derisively at Rhys' attempt at an apology. "Then what exactly did you intend?" he questioned sharply, his voice stripped of its usual warmth.

Rhys raked a hand through his dark hair; remorse flickered like candlelight in his violet eyes. "Ever since Nyx came into our lives, I've been... unusually overprotective."

"That's putting it mildly," Azriel murmured under his breath. Yet despite their disagreement, Gwyn noticed genuine concern etched onto Azriel's features for his brother.

Unfazed by Azriel's comment, Rhys carried on. "I simply don't want to take any risks, particularly when it involves my family. But if I made you feel uncomfortable, Gwyn, I am sincerely sorry."

Gwyn's gaze lingered on Rhys, her eyes meticulously scanning his face for traces of falsehood in his apology. Yet, all she could discern from the depths of them was genuine regret - and perhaps a flicker of fear.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, her words barely more than a whisper. "I appreciate your apology."

"Shall we proceed now?" Rhys suggested, his hand subtly indicating towards Gwydion which rested on the table inbetween them.

Shutting her eyes gently, Gwyn allowed the familiar tune to seep into her consciousness and soon after her enchanting voice resonated throughout the room.

Rhys observed attentively, his countenance inscrutable yet devoid of the scrutinizing intensity he had previously displayed.

Gwyn could sense the Shadowsinger's comforting warmth adjacent to her, serving as a soothing reminder that he wouldn't allow Rhys to push beyond her limits.

Like last time, there was no response from the Starsword though.

Frustration began to grow within her, threatening to choke off her song, but she fought to keep her voice steady.

"Nothing is happening," Gwyn murmured, when she finally paused.

"Maybe it just needs more time," Rhys suggested, though his voice held a hint of uncertainty. Azriel, however, remained silent - his gaze never leaving Gwyn as he contemplated something.

"At Ramiel, you had the sword in your hands," he suddenly said. "Maybe you should hold it."

Rhys hesitated, before finally agreeing. “Alright, give it a try."

The instant her fingers wrapped around the cool metal, she felt a shiver of anticipation run down her spine. This was it, she thought, this was the missing puzzle piece.

But as she began to sing again, the sword remained stubbornly silent. Gwyn's heart sank, "I don't understand," she whispered, her voice breaking. "Have I imagined it all?"

Azriel, unable to bear the sight of her distress, stepped closer.

"Hey," he gently cupped her face, his thump wiping away a tear that escaped her lashes. "You didn't imagine anything, Gwyn. I was there too, remember? I saw the power you unleashed at Ramiel. You have something incredible inside of you, and we will find a way to unlock it."

Their gazes intertwined, and momentarily, they existed in a universe of their own, the space around them pulsating with an unvoiced accord. Rhysand's sharp perception didn't miss the exchange.

"Maybe I could assist," he offered cautiously, his tone as balanced as a tightrope walker. "I could look into your mind, Gwyn, to see if there's something we're missing."

The simultaneous outcry from both Gwyn and Azriel was deafening - a symphony of trepidation and fury. An eyebrow arched on Rhysand's face as he scrutinized them with growing doubt. "You two are surprisingly defensive of her mind. What exactly are you concealing?"

Azriel was about to scold his brother, that it was none of his buisness, when Gwyn interjected, "Something I'm not prepared to disclose yet. Please…" she implored, "...but it poses no threat."

Azriel's shadows curled protectively around Gwyn. His jaw clenched, and his voice was as cold as ice when he spoke. "Her mind is her own, Rhysand. There's no need for you to pry."

"Do you not trust me, Azriel?" Rhys mused, his eyes narrowing.

The question hung in the air, unanswered. Azriel's gaze faltered, the hurt in his eyes evident for a brief moment before he quickly masked it with a renewed aggitation. "Trust has nothing to do with this."

"Please," Gwyn said, her voice firm as she stepped between the two males. "We're getting nowhere by arguing."

"Something's not adding up here..." Rhysand abruptly voiced, his gaze heavy with indignation as it bore into the Shadowsinger. "Are you the reason she's resisting my help?"

Azriel's fury ignited like an untamed blaze, his shadows convulsing chaotically around them. "You're crossing a line, Rhys," he warned, the menace in his tone crystal clear.

"How long has this... intimacy been brewing between you two?" Rhysand queried, diverting his scrutiny back to Gwyn.

"Rhysand," came Azriel's caution, his voice sharp and frosty. "Don't tread where you shouldn't."

But unfazed, Rhysand pressed on, "Has Azriel ever behaved... improperly around you?"

Gwyn met his gaze head-on, her retort a sharp-edged "NO."

However, Rhysand was not deterred. "Or maybe it was something he said. He does have a way with words, doesn’t he?" His eyes narrowed into slits of accusation. "Has my Shadowsinger been weaving a web to ensnare you?"

"Enough!" Azriel's protest came as a low growl, his fingers clenched tightly, wings quivering with suppressed ire. "You're overstepping!"

But Rhysand seemed intent on disregarding Azriel's warning. Swiveling back towards Gwyn, he said, "Were you aware that before you caught his eye, Mor and then Elain were the objects of his affection? He's been forbidden from pursuing the latter, so now it seems his focus has shifted to you."

"Is that supposed to scare me?" Gwyn finally spoke, trying to keep her voice steady. "Azriel has a past, just like the rest of us. It doesn't change anything."

"Perhaps not," Rhys replied, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "But if I were you, I'd be careful. Azriel is chasing after a mate, and you may be nothing more than a temporary distraction."

Azriel’s fury was about to burst. "You're morphing into a mirror image of your condescending father, and it's been an insidious process," he hissed, his tone ominous and laced with threat.

Rhys visibly recoiled at the harsh comparison, his mocking grin faltering. Yet Azriel was far from done.

"Do you even realize how your behavior has shifted towards those who surround you?" Azriel pressed on, his words slicing through the tension heavy air like a blade. "Consider Nesta. You disregard her, cast her aside, adopt an air of superiority when she is family and has saved our asses so many times. And it's not just with her that your compassion and concern have become selective, High Lord."

Azriel's gaze was aflame with indignation, and Gwyn could see the raw hurt and sense of betrayal smoldering beneath the surface. "Take a hard look at yourself, Rhys," Azriel urged him, disappointment seeping into every syllable. "Is this truly the man you aspire to be? Is this the legacy you want to carve for yourself?"

Gwyn watched as Azriel's words struck Rhys; uncertainty flickered in his eyes, rendering him momentarily vulnerable—almost adrift in self-doubt. But that moment was fleeting as he swiftly replaced vulnerability with stubborn denial to accept what Azriel was putting forth.

"Enough," Rhys interjected. "I know what I'm doing."

"Clearly, you don't," Azriel shot back, his face set into an unyielding mask. "And you haven't the faintest clue about what's going on between Gwyn and me." He advanced menacingly towards Rhys, shadows swirling around him like a ravenous beast poised for attack.

"Overprotectiveness or not, if you persist with this absurd conduct, I won't hesitate to silence you by force," Azriel cautioned.

Rhys' smirk only broadened at the threat, seemingly immune to Azriel's intimidation. The High Lord leaned in provocatively, his gaze goading him on. "I'd love to see you try."

At that instant, something within Azriel fractured. His rage, previously held in check and managed with precision, exploded outwards like an awakened volcano. Shadows squirmed and thrashed around him as he pounced onto Rhys with unrestrained anger.

"Stop!" But the plea from Gwyn’s lips was a mere whisper, lost amidst the violent clash of their confrontation.

Rhys and Azriel grappled with each other, their fists colliding in brutal strikes meant to incapacitate. Azriel's knuckles slammed into Rhys' jaw with a sickening crack, while Rhys retaliated with a heavy blow to Azriel's ribs that elicited a pained grunt.

They moved with lethal speed and coordination honed from centuries of battle training, though there was no artistry in their dance now.

Her desperate appeals to end this stupidity, fell on deaf ears.

As the fight escalated even more, Gwyn found herself in the eye of an emotional storm – terror for Azriel's wellbeing, resentment towards Rhys for pushing him to such extremes, and a mysterious pain lodged deep within her heart.

It churned inside her like a tempest, amplifying with each passing moment until it threatened to shatter her from within.

"STOP!" she bellowed again, this time with an intensity that echoed through every fiber of her being. The blade she still clasped in her hand, came alive quivering, as if responding to the tidal wave of emotion surging through her veins.

In a spectacular display of luminescence, both Gwyn and Gwydion erupted into dazzling light, casting an inviting glow that saturated the room in its comforting warmth.

The abrupt burst of magic brought the men's brutal altercation to an abrupt standstill. Transfixed by the radiant display, they gawked at Gwyn in astonishment, their quarrel momentarily forgotten.

Rhysand's fist was raised, ready to collide with Azriel's face in a devastating blow.

Gwyn's voice reverberated powerfully from within her core; a guttural snarl aimed directly at the High Lord himself. "Release him," she ordered with authority seeping into each syllable - a command so potent of power it caused both, Azriel and Rhys’, flesh to prickle.

With a deliberate slowness, he withdrew his hand, allowing Azriel to reclaim his upright stance. His gold-flecked eyes, however, remained locked onto Gwyn.

Rhysand's gaze was drawn to her as well, the light that had previously enveloped almost the whole room now diminished to a way softer luminescence.

"Interesting," he breathed out, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smirk that suggested he'd uncovered some clandestine truth. "It appears your magic is bound to your emotional flux," he proposed thoughtfully. "Just as I suspected."

Azriel swiveled towards Rhys with an abruptness that belied his usually collected demeanor. "What are you implying?"

"The provocations... they were intended to arouse…," Rhys confessed casually. "Primarily her rather than you, but it seems my tactic yielded results nonetheless." He patted Azriel's shoulder in what was meant as fraternal camaraderie.

But Azriel shrugged off the gesture with a scowl. "You're insufferable, you know that?"

Gwyn interjected then, her voice tremulous from the residual energy of her magic surge, "Regardless ..." Her gaze darted between the two men. "I’m glad you stopped hurting each other."

She paused momentarily before adding, "Now can we focus on the matter at hand?"

Azriel watched, spellbound, as ribbons of light swirled and danced around her. Her magic was like starlight given form, glittering strands that wove together in intricate patterns.

The power grew again, filling the room with its radiance once more. He had never seen or felt anything so pure and lovely. His shadows stretched towards that glorious light, yearning to bask in its warmth.

Beside him, Rhys had become utterly still, his violet eyes wide with awe. Even he seemed humbled by the display of Gwyn's gift, as shone like a star descended to earth.

"Incredible," Rhys murmured, his voice laced with fascination as he watched the spectacle unfold. "Gwyn, you're channeling something truly remarkable.

Azriel felt how Truthteller began to hum as well, reacting to Gwydion's awakening. Azriel inhaled sharply as the sentient dagger established a link with his shadows, no doubt readying to forge a bridge between his darkness and Gwyn’s light.

However Azriel was not ready to let Rhys witness, what they could do combined. So he willed his Shadows forward, before pushing Truthteller further behind his back.

The glow enveloping Gwydion intensified, casting capricious silhouettes that danced upon the stony walls.

Gwyn's hair seemed to defy gravity, floating around her visage as if ensnared by the magical maelstrom whirling through the chamber. Her eyes were sealed shut, lips slightly ajar as she surrendered herself to the primordial force stirring within her.

Azriel trembled, besieged by the raw energy permeating the room. He found himself in an internal struggle against an almost magnetic compulsion drawing him towards her. Was it truthteller coaxing him forward or some intrinsic force? He was uncertain.

Her voice was barely above a whisper as she inquired, "What next? How do I harness this power?"

Azriel found his words lodged in his throat. "I...I don't know," he managed to stammer out. His gaze shifted towards Rhysand,who still wore an expression of awe, yet now slightly tinged with concern.

The High Lord cautiously advanced towards Gwyn, extending his hands in a comforting manner. "Gwyn," Rhys began softly, "I understand this is intense, but try to find your calm within the storm."

Gwyn's brow furrowed in concentration as she attempted to rein in her magic, she quietly whispered. "I am the rock against which the surf crashes…" Her luminescence wavered yet persisted, casting an otherworldly radiance over her skin.

"That's it, you've got this," Rhys encouraged. "Now, focus on your breathing, let the power recede back within you."

Gwyn's forehead creased with effort as she endeavored to control her magical surge.

"Azriel, help grounding her." Rhysand ordered.

And the Shadowsinger gave in to the urge to move closer, letting his shadows swirl around Gwyn, mingling with the ribbons of light still dancing around her.

She gasped as his hand found hers, but soon her breathing became deep and even.

Bit by bit, the magical glow began to fade until only a soft aura lingered around her. Gwydion's hum quieted to a gentle vibration.

Gwyn's shoulders slumped with exhaustion, but her eyes shone with exhilaration."By the Cauldron, what kind of power is that?" she asked breathlessly.

Her knees threatened to give way, but Azriel was there and looped an arm protectively around her waist.

"No siren magic, at all," Rhys murmured in awe, a smile of rare delight illuminating his face. "This is the divine radiance of the Mother herself."

Gwyn's eyes widened in astonishment at his revelation. "What?" she echoed.

Rhys raked a hand through his dark locks, deep in thought. "The scope of this power is boundless," he began, his voice filled with reverence. "You could use it to vanquish foes, mend allies, even to cultivate life... Its potential is only limited by your will."

Drawing a fortifying breath, Gwyn absorbed Rhysand's words.

"I have no desire to wreak havoc or destruction," she voiced softly. "This magic...it feels untainted. Holy." Her fingers traced the hilt of Gwydion with a touch that was almost reverential."How is it linked to the sword?"

"I'm not sure of that yet," Rhysand responded.

Azriel maintained a firm hold around Gwyn's waist, serving as her pillar of strength as she leaned into him more heavily. "This is...a lot to take in," she admitted, her hand instinctively finding its way to Azriel's resting on her midriff.

"I want to learn to control it. So I can heal, and help others when needed. But never to hurt."

Rhys conceded with a nod. "A noble goal. We have a lot of work to do."

"We've exerted enough for today, though," Azriel declared, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Rhys also nodded in understanding. "You should rest now. We can continue our efforts in a few days."

"You did well. I'm proud of you."Azriel said, stroking her cheek.

Gwyn smiled at him softly."Thank you, Az."

But then Azriel’s gaze became sharp again, as he turned to Rhys. "You..." He began, the accusation shining in his eyes. "We definitely need to discuss these methods of yours at some point."

Rhysand lifted his arms in mock surrender, a smirk playing on his lips.

Azriel redirected his attention back to the drained figure leaning heavily against him for support, completely depleted from summoning her magic.

Without a moment's hesitation, Azriel scooped Gwyn into his arms,ignoring her squeak of protest.

"Azriel, put me down!" Gwyn complained, squirming in his hold.

But Azriel was having none of it, keeping his arms firmly around her as he carried her towards the balcony. He could feel how exhausted she was, both physically and emotionally.

"Don't be stubborn, Gwyn," he gently rebuked her.

Gwyn let out an exasperated sigh but acquiesced and melted into his embrace; her head finding its place on his shoulder. She was too tired to fight him on this and if she were to confess honestly, it felt comforting being enveloped by him this way, safe.

As they reached the balcony, Rhysand chuckled at their antics. "Take care of her, Azriel. I'll see you both in a few days."

Azriel nodded in acknowledgment before stepping into the open, his colossal wings unfurling majestically behind him. Gwyn instinctively tightened her grip around his neck, pressing herself closer.

"Ready?" he whispered, gaze softening as it met the woman in his arms brimming with undisguised affection. At her nod, he launched them both into the open sky.

Chapter Text

Azriel held Gwyn securely against his chest as he flew them back to the House of Wind.

Soon they arrived at the open space of the training ring. Azriel angled his wings to slow their descent, landing with preternatural grace. To Gwyn's surprise, he did not set her down, but rather continued carrying her inside .

"You know, if you want to keep our secret safe from the rest, you should be a tad less conspicuous," Gwyn jested, even as she stayed comfortably nestled within his protective grasp.

The corners of Azriel's mouth twitched upward. "I think that ship has already sailed. Rhys is no fool," he replied, the shadows around him seeming to agree.

Gwyn's laughter rang through the air, a melody as bright and radiant as her spirit. "So what now? You just toss all caution to the wind?" she queried, her sea-green eyes sparkling with mirth.

Azriel hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to meet hers. His expression was inscrutable, but beneath those hazel depths flickered an ember of something more intense. "You're exhausted," he observed, his tone laced with concern."I’m merely helping you out."

"Ah, how gallant of you," Gwyn retorted, while playing with one of his leather’s clasps. "I’m curious though, what’s your grand scheme here? Carrying me all the way into the priestess dormitory?" she teased lightly.

A glint of amusement sparked in Azriel's eyes at her words. "Only if you want me to."

"What I want…," she said, leaning up, brushing her lips against the strong column of his throat, "is for you to take me somewhere more private."

A low groan escaped from Azriel’s lips as if he were physically pained by her request."Don't tempt me."

But Gwyn caught the flicker of desire in his eyes. That wasn’t a no, was it?

Her warm breath caressed his earlobe, making a shudder ripple through his body. With a seductive tone, she whispered the words that made his body quiver and his mind spin. "Take me to your room."

"Gwyn..." he started, but she silenced him with her lips. The world around them melted away as their mouths met. His self-control frayed by the second, frayed with every lick and nip she bestowed upon him.

With a growl that was a mix of arousal and frustration, Azriel broke the kiss, setting her down on trembling legs. "You're playing with fire, you know that right?"

Gwyn smirked at him, a wanton glint in her eyes as she took his hand and led him down to his room. "I've come to like playing with fire," she purred.

—-

The gods above must be having a good laugh, Gwyn internally mused, as moments later, SHE pinned HIM against the solid barrier of his bedroom door, taking the lead.

Her mind had been a whirlpool of these ideas for days, ever since his shadows had pleasured her, ever since she had explored him with her own mouth.

This newfound closeness consumed her every waking thought. Even as she had sat in Merill’s study, attempting to focus on the discourse about the realm of Terraenrae the other day, her mind had wandered … revisiting that moment in the pool, the one in his study. The way he had tasted, spicy-sweet, all male and so unexpectedly good, and the noises he had made, it played again and again in front of her inner eye.

The memory of how he had looked - dark and slightly dangerous - surrendering under her touch was etched into her very soul.

Especially how exhilirating it had felt, to be the one in control.

She wanted to do it all over again and explore even further. She had lain awake at night, fingers embedded between her legs, imagining what it might be like to have them replaced with his hardness. How it might be when he came undone in her? With her - together. The image had haunted her ever since.

She craved him, every inch, every facet of his being - this was a truth she had been aware of for quite some time.

Even though he was right in his advice to take things slow, there was a part of her that longed to break free, a part, that longed to reclaim what had been unjustly stolen from her. And the whispers of that inner yearning had steadily grown in volume by day .

And then today, when he had recklessly thrown himself into a brawl with Rhysand, until she felt the icy tendrils of panic grip her heart and fury ignite within her as Rhys prepared to land a blow on his face. That's when the voice inside her had exploded, when her magic had errupted and it sang a quiet song in her soul for him ever since.

Despite the exhaustion and overload of information, what had shook her most was how her core equilibrium had subtly altered, making everything about him the focal point of her existence.

She needed to be one with him.

And maybe he had sensed that she was a female with a mission, because when she gazed up at him, his face was a canvas of sheer terror.

"Gwyn, we shouldn’t…", he began. "You need to rest. We have group training tomorrow…"

"I don’t want to rest," she countered, her voice husky with want, "and I don’t want to think about training right now. For once, I just..." she hesitated, suddenly shy.

"I… I need you." It was the purest form of truth she could offer and it hung between them like a living, breathing thing.

Gwyn watched a war rage within him. Reason versus desire - Protect versus give in - as he shut his eyes, rolling his head back to the door behind him.

"I'm terrified," he finally confessed, wrestling with the rapid beat of his heart.

"Of me?" she barely managed to whisper out. His eyes snapped open at her question, their intense gaze locking onto hers.

Seeing her vexed look, he leaned in and cradled her face gently in his hands. "No, I'm terrified of causing you pain."

The memory of finding her broken and bleeding in Sangravah still haunted him, and he wouldn’t, couldn’t bare the thought of hurting her again.

Gwyn felt an unexpected flutter in her chest as his thumb traced a path over her cheekbone. His touch was so soft, as if he was afraid she might shatter under his hold.

"Azriel," she stated calmly, "you won't hurt me."

He responded with a hollow laugh before shaking his head dismissively. "You've seen my size. I most likely will."

Her cheeks flushed hot at his words and she momentarily looked away before gathering herself again.

"I know what I’m signing up for."

Azriel sighed deeply, as worry filled his eyes once more.

"Gwyn," he began delicately, "there's nothing I want more than to be with you. But..." He faltered.

"After what you've been through… I can't... I don’t want to do that to you."

She reached up and took Azriel's hand from her face, holding it securely between both of hers.

"I understand that you don’t want to hurt me," she said quietly.

"But I need you to realize - this is my decision to make. Especially after everything that I have endured."

She paused, drawing in a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "I want to overwrite that memory with something more... something beautiful. Something willingly shared between us. Even if it hurts initially, I don’t mind, because I want to reclaim this part of myself. And if there's some pain involved in doing so, then I'm ready for it. It will be on my terms this time."

Gwyn lifted his hand to her lips, pressing a tender kiss onto his scarred knuckles. "You could never be like those males, Azriel. I know that deep within my soul. The pain I might feel will with you, will not be like then. So please, don't deny me this opportunity to heal - in my own way and at my own pace."

She let go of his hand and moved closer, looping her arms around his neck. His breath hitched as she pressed herself against him fully. "I want this, Azriel. And I want it with you."

Azriel's eyes searched hers, trying to find even a hint of doubt or fear. But all he found was strength and certainty.

"Are you really sure?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Absolutely," she replied, her gaze never wavering from his. "You make me feel safe. You are the one person I trust the most and I know you'll be as gentle as possible with me."

A charged silence settled between them, as tangible as the shadows that danced around their entwined forms.

Gwyn was determined to confront her past and embrace her desires with the male who had come to mean so much to her, more than she thought anyone ever could after Cathrin’s death.

Slowly she leaned forward, closing the distance between them; pressing her lips gently against his.

Azriel’s hands instinctively found their way to her waist, pulling her closer.

She nipped at his bottom lip, relishing in the low sound that rumbled in his throat. Then she dragged her lips across his jaw and down the column of his throat, scraping her teeth over his pulse point.

Azriel hissed in a sharp breath, head tilting back to give her better access. His hands tightened on her hips, fingers flexing against her sides.

"Gods, Gwyn" he muttered, his voice rough with desire.

Emboldened, Gwyn began to work on the top bit of his training leathers, her fingers deftly opening clasp after clasp. The sound of each fastening coming undone echoed in the quiet room, heightening the anticipation that crackled between them like a live wire. All the while, Azriel watched her with dark eyes, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and hunger.

As the last clasp fell open, Gwyn pulled the leather garment off his broad shoulders, mindful of his massive wings, which were now tugged in securely behind his back.

Gwyn allowed herself a moment to fully take him in - Azriel's naked torso, his defined abs, the intricate Illyrian tattoos, and the many scars that bore testament to the countless fights and wars he had endured. She couldn't help but drink in the sight, feeling a surge of pride at the knowledge that this powerful, beautiful male was hers.

"Has anyone ever told you that you should wear less clothes more often?" she asked him lightheartedly, a mischievous glint in her teal eyes.

A deep chuckle escaped his lips, the sound resonating through her very core."I can't say it came up in conversations before."

The tension that had been building between them seemed to dissipate the slightest, as they slipped back into their familiar banter. The knowledge that it was still just Gwyn and Azriel, that they could still find comfort and share laughter even when faced with such an intimate situation, served to put them both at ease.

"Alright then, maybe I'll consider it for your sake," he conceded with a playful wink, making her heart flutter.

"Generous of you," Gwyn retorted, grinning as she traced her fingers along the lines of his tattoos. She marveled at how the contrast between his inked markings and the surrounding flesh created a mesmerizing pattern, one that seemed to tell a story on its own.

Gwyn's eyes flickered down to Azriel's pants, her heart racing with anticipation. A mischievous smile played on her lips as she sank to her knees before him, causing a sharp intake of breath from the the Shadowsinger.

She gently unstrapped Truthteller’s sheath, setting it aside before reaching for the growing bulge beneath his pants. As her hand made contact, Azriel's head rolled back, his dark hair falling away from his face as a low groan escaped his lips.

"By the Cauldron," he whispered, his voice thick. His whole body began trembling, her touch making it harder to hold onto his restraint.

With nervous fingers, she found and unfastened the buttons there, easing the material down over his powerful thighs, revealing more of his impressive physique. But as she reached his calves, she realized that he was still wearing his boots, and let out an exasperated groan.

"I should have started with these first, shouldn't I?" she mumbled, frustration creeping into her voice.

Azriel couldn't help but laugh, the sound warm and gentle despite the heated situation. "Here, let me help you," he offered, leaning down to assist her.

As Azriel stepped out of his last remaining clothes, Gwyn couldn't help but steal a glance at his impressive length, making her feel both hot and giddy.

"Alright, love," he said softly, guiding her back up to stand. "Time for me to return the favor."

Gwyn's heart raced as she felt his strong hands on her shoulders, their eyes locking in a smoldering gaze.

"I never thought I'd be undressing a priestess." He grinned wickedly as he began to unfasten the strings of her robe.

"Oh, you," Gwyn huffed, playfully hitting him on the shoulder, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and excitement. "Just... just do it already."

As the last string came open and her robe fell to the floor and Gwyn stood before him in her simple undergarments, she could rather feel than see Azriel's reverent gaze upon her - a look he had given her before.

Azriel's eyes roamed over her, taking in every detail of Gwyn’s flawless form. She was slightly taller than the average female fae, her head reaching just below his chin. Her body was a symphony of curves, with long, beautiful legs that seemed to go on forever and hips that begged for his touch. Her creamy skin was speckled with delicate freckles, a canvas that he could easily lose himself in.

But it was her face that truly took his breath away. Little dots danced above her full, swollen lips, accentuating their alluring shape. Her sweet little nose was the perfect centerpiece for her visage, and her big teal eyes shone with a depth of many oceans, he wanted to drown himself in.

She was, without a doubt, the most stunning creature he had ever laid eyes on, and Azriel could hardly wrap his mind around the fact that she wanted him - loved him.

"What are you thinking when you look at me like that?" Gwyn asked softly.

Azriel didn't hesitate to answer her truthfully. "I'm thinking about how incredibly beautiful you are, and that I must have done something right to have you in my life," he murmured, his voice laced with so much love and sincerity.

Gwyn blushed at his words, but the smile that graced her lips was radiant. They stood there for a moment, simply drinking each other in, the intensity of their emotions growing stronger with each passing second.

"Before we go any further," Azriel said gently, taking Gwyn's hand in his own, "I need you to know something."

He brought her hand up to his lips, pressing a tender kiss to her palm. His voice was soft but steady, filled with an unwavering devotion.

"No matter what happens tonight, if you ever feel uncomfortable or want me to stop for any reason, just say the word. I won't be mad or disappointed. Your comfort and safety are the most important thing to me."

Gwyn looked into his dark eyes, seeing the sincerity shining there, and felt a rush of gratitude wash over her. She realized then that it was always supposed to be him - no one else could make her feel this way, so safe, in charge, and worshipped.

And there it was again, that tug in her chest, beckoning her closer, a fierce desire to claim him as hers and hers alone.

Gwyn stepped into Azriel's arms, pressing her body flush against his. The heat of their bodies mingling together made him gasp involuntarily and Gwyn felt her heart race at the sound.

She leaned in, her lips grazing his ear as she whispered softly, "You have no idea how much I love you, just for being you."

Something inside him shattered at her words and their lips met in a tender kiss that soon intensified, fueled by the electrifying connection between them.

Gwyn's hands roamed across Azriel's broad shoulders, tracing the ridges of his muscles as if memorizing every detail. In response, Azriel's hands slid down to her hips, his fingers finding her backside and giving it a gentle squeeze before pulling her even closer against him.

He nipped at her lower lip, drawing a soft moan from her as the slow burn of their passion began to consume them both. His kisses trailed down her jawline, causing her to tilt her head back and expose her throat, allowing him to place gentle, reverent kisses there.

Gwyn gasped into Azriel's mouth, as she felt Azriel's erection twitch against her, her eyes fluttering open to meet his dark, intense gaze. The sensation sent shivers down her spine, and she felt an undeniable warmth pooling between her legs.

Azriel inhaled sharply, his pupils dilating until they nearly drowned out the rich hazel of his eyes. He drank in the scent of her arousal, the intoxicating aroma overwhelming his senses and further fueling the desire that coursed through him.

"Are you really sure?" he asked breathlessly.

"I swear if you ask one more time…," Gwyn teased, but knowing full well that he needed to hear her confirmation, she firmly answered: "Yes."

Wordlessly, Azriel scooped Gwyn into his arms and carried her across the room, laying her gently on the bed covered in black silken sheets.

As he lowered himself to claim her lips once more, Gwyn thought her heart might burst from the overwhelming emotion that filled her chest.

Their kiss deepened, exploring and tasting each other as if they were discovering something entirely new. Azriel's fingers traced a path down Gwyn's body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When his hand finally reached the delicate spot between her legs, he hesitated for just a moment before applying gentle pressure.

The sensation sent a jolt through Gwyn, causing her body to arch and her breath to catch in her throat.

His own groan vibrated through her, sending shivers down her spine as he continued to rub her through the soaked fabric of her panties. The blend of desire and awe in his voice only heightened her arousal. "Gwyn... you're so wet," he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.

"Is there gonna be some Shadowplay again?" she asked between gasps, her body trembling with excitement .

He shook his head, a playful smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "No love, it's just you and me tonight."

The intimacy of his words sent another wave of heat flooding through Gwyn, leaving her giddy and desperate for more.

Azriel moved down her body, his careful, deliberate movements setting every nerve alight. When he reached the soaked spot between her legs, he paused, inhaling deeply. She could feel the heat rising to her cheeks at watching him do so.

"You smell so good," he admitted, his voice a husky whisper. "But there's one thing even better than your scent… your taste."

Azriel's unwavering gaze remained locked with Gwyn's as he carefully pulled her panties down her legs, baring her completely to him. He seemed to memorize every curve and freckle on her body before leaning in closer to her folds. Closing his eyes, he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against her, groaning deeply at the taste that flooded his senses. Gwyn couldn't help but groan too, the sensation of his lips on her so intimate and electrifying.

His tongue began to explore, licking and sucking gently yet insistently. The pleasure was almost unbearable, sending shivers up her spine and causing her head to fall back, eyes squeezed shut. Azriel's skilled ministrations left her breathless, her heart pounding in her chest.

It didn't take long for Gwyn to come undone under his mouth, a cry of ecstasy escaping her lips as she fully fell back onto the bed. But Azriel wasn't finished with her; instead, he continued licking, continued coaxing more wetness from her.

"Wh-what are you d-doing?" Gwyn managed to stammer in between gasps and moans, her body trembling with aftershocks or newly building pleasure, she didn’t know.

"Preparing you," Azriel murmured against her sensitive flesh, his voice like velvet and sin.

Azriel's thumb began to trace slow circles around Gwyn's entrance. He observed her reactions with the utmost care, gauging how much pressure and speed elicited the most pleasurable responses from her. When he felt that she was ready, he gently inserted the finger inside her, moving it slowly in and out, allowing her to adjust to the sensation.

"Ah, Az…" Gwyn moaned, silently praying that the shadows surrounding them would muffle any sounds they made, lest the entire House become aware of their intimate activities.

Encouraged by her reaction, Azriel gradually added another finger, then another, his movements becoming more confident and assured as Gwyn's body responded eagerly to his touch. Her breaths came in short gasps until she finally cried out his name as she climaxed once more.

"Come up here." Gwyn beckoned, her breathing slowly returning to normal. Azriel hesitated for a moment before complying, his mouth and chin glistening with her essence.

"I need to stretch you a bit more, if we want to..." he murmured, but before he could finish his sentence, Gwyn captured his lips in a searing kiss, tasting herself on them.

Gwyn's eyes sparkled with determination as she gently pushed Azriel to lie on his back. His breathing quickened as Gwyn removed the last of her clothing – her bra – and tossed it aside, leaving herself entirely bare before him.

Azriel's gaze was filled with awe as he took in every inch of her exposed body, his admiration burning like molten gold in the depths of his eyes. Gwyn leaned down to kiss his mouth once more, their lips moving in tender synchronization. She then trailed her lips down his throat, finding the spot that made him groan so beautifully and pressing soft, heated kisses there.

Continuing her journey downward, Gwyn marveled at the expanse of Azriel's broad chest, each muscle defined and powerful beneath his golden-brown skin. Her hands traced the contours of his torso as she lowered herself further, until she finally reached his massive length.

"Wait," Azriel breathed, his voice strained with need. "You don't need to... I'm already on the edge."

But Gwyn silenced him with a determined look, her teal eyes locked onto his. She would not be swayed from her desire to pleasure him just as he had done for her. As she licked a slow, teasing line down his length, Azriel gasped and groaned, his fingers curling into the silken sheets beneath them.

His chest heaved as Gwyn continued to work her mouth on him, her tongue swirling around his sensitive tip and then gliding down to the base. The sensation was nearly too much for him to bear -he was already so hard - making his fingers grip the sheets with white-knuckled intensity.

"Ah, fuck," Azriel's hand came down to cover his face, his breath hitching as Gwyn continued to suck on him, her warm mouth and eager tongue sending jolts of pleasure through him. He tried to focus on anything other than the feeling of it, but there was no use.

"Stop," he choked out, the word barely audible. "Gwyn, please. I'm so close."

Reluctantly, she released him, her teal eyes full of concern as she looked up at him. Azriel reached for her, pulling her back up until they were lying side by side on the bed, facing each other. The world seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the two of them in their private cocoon.

As Azriel's hand gently cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles over her freckled skin, his dark eyes held hers with an intensity that made Gwyn's heart skip a beat. The hunger that had been present moments before was replaced with something softer, warmer.

"I need you to remember what I said earlier ," he whispered, his voice rough with emotion, but earnest all the same. "At any moment, if you want me to stop, I will. There will be no consequences, no disappointment. Your comfort and safety are my top priorities."

Gwyn's heart pounded in her chest, a relentless rhythm that seemed to echo through the room. She nodded slowly, her eyes locked with Azriel's as they shared another tender kiss, his hand tugging gently at her hair.

"Please," she whispered against his lips, the word heavy with longing and trust. Her hand cupped his cheek, guiding him closer, urging him on despite the fear and uncertainty that lingered in the air between them.

Azriel's gaze never wavered as he positioned himself above her, one hand sliding between their bodies to stroke her gently.

Just a simple brush of his fingers against her skin ignited the fire within her anew.

He took a deep, steadying breath, the weight of the moment evident in the tension that coiled throughout his muscular frame.

"Remember, it might hurt," he warned softly, concern etched into every angle of his face.

Gwyn's breath hitched as Azriel's strong hand gently cradled her face, his eyes locked onto hers with a tenderness that simultaneously filled her heart and set her nerves aflame.

She whispered, "It's okay, I can take it." Her voice was steady, even as her pulse raced beneath her skin.

"Alright," he murmured, his lips meeting hers in a slow, deliberate kiss that seemed to seep into her very soul.

The tension that had been building within her gradually dissolved, leaving behind only the warmth of their connection. As the kiss continued, she felt herself growing more relaxed, her body opening up to him like a flower unfolding in the sun.

Azriel drew back just enough to let her breathe, his hand moving down between them to guide the head of his cock to her entrance. Gwyn sucked in a sharp breath at the sensation, feeling the heat of him against her sensitive folds. He paused, searching her eyes for any sign of discomfort or hesitation, but she only nodded, urging him to continue.

Slowly, almost painfully so, Azriel began to lower himself into her inch by inch. Gwyn's body stretched to accommodate him, her breaths growing shorter and more ragged as she felt herself being filled.

It was overwhelming, the feeling of being so full, but there was an undeniable pleasure in it as well.

When he was finally completely seated inside her, he couldn't contain the gutteral groan that tore from his throat.

"Gods, Gwyn," he breathed, burying his face in the crook of her neck. "I've never...you feel incredible."

Gwyn gasped, her mouth falling open as she struggled to process the sensation that coursed through her. She had never experienced anything like this before – so achingly intimate, so incredibly good.

When he moved the slightest bit, it send a wave of pleasure through her, making her fingers digg into his shoulders for support.

Azriel's lips brushed against Gwyn's throat, trailing a line of tender kisses up to her mouth. "Are you okay?" he whispered, pausing to gauge her reaction.

"More than okay," Gwyn murmured with a soft smile.

Azriel shifted his hips again, pulling out just a bit before pushing back in. The sensation became different now – deeper – but still achingly good. Gwyn couldn't help but let out a small cry, her fingers tangling in his dark hair as she clung to him.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he whispered, concern etched across his handsome face.

"Please, don't," she breathed, looking up at him with wide teal eyes. "I didn't know it would feel like this."

"Like what?" Azriel asked, his voice laced with concern.

"Like... so good," Gwyn replied, her voice barely more than a whisper as she sought to explain this indescribable feeling. Now she got what all the fuss was about.

A smile broke across Azriel's face, warming the shadows that now danced around them. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. As he pulled away, his hand moved from her waist to her thigh, guiding her leg up over his ass to create an even more intimate angle between them.

He hesitated for only a moment before he started moving again, pushing into her a bit harder this time. Still, he remained steadfast in his tenderness.

Soon they began moving together, the sounds of their pleasure mingling in the air, Azriel could not help but drink in every sigh and gasp that escaped Gwyn's lips.

He knew then that there was no turning back – he belonged to her as much as she belonged to him, and nothing would ever change that.

Her grip on his hair thightened, when he pulled out a bit further and pushed back in, his movements now quickening.

"Ah, Az..." Gwyn gasped, unable to stop the torrent of moans that spilled from her lips. "How will I ever leave your bed after knowing what its like?"

A low chuckle rumbled in Azriel's chest, and the warmth that spread through him at her words was impossible to ignore. He leaned in to capture her lips again, kissing her deeply and passionately as if he could convey every ounce of love he felt for her through that one action.

Azriel realized with a dread-filled jolt that he was close - right on the brink of release. He picked up his pace, sensing that Gwyn was almost ready too.

Sliding one hand down between them, he gently massaged her clit, coaxing her to bring her over the edge with him.

In return, Gwyn cried out, pulling his face to hers and pressing her forehead against his, their breaths mingling.

His fingers worked in tandem with the steady thrusts of his hips, driving her higher and higher until she clung to him, her nails digging into the muscles of his back.

"Azriel!" she screamed his name as pleasure crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body shuddering beneath his.

Azriel's world narrowed down to the sensation of Gwyn's inner walls clenching around him, combined with the sound of her cries and the feel of her nails digging into his skin – it was all too much. It shattered the last vestiges of his restraint and he let go.

With an earth shattering groan, he spilled himself into her in a seemingly endless torrent. His heart pounded in his chest, every beat echoing the love that surged through him.

And as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin mixed with their passion, he equally wondered how he could ever leave this place between her legs.

But then his senses got quickly pulled back into focus, as Gwyn began shaking beneath him. Cold terror creeped into his veins, when he lifted his head to look at her and found her silently crying. He pulled out of her swiftly, cupping her face in his hands.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, voice taut.

Gwyn shook her head, looking up at him with wide, teal eyes. "No," she whispered.

She took a shuddering breath, trying to explain between sobs. "It’s just..."

Azriel's brow furrowed in confusion and she continued.

"For so long, I thought this part of me was broken. Ruined. But you...you showed me I can still feel pleasure, want pleasure." Her words were fragmented by quiet cries. "You don’t know how much that means to me." Another sob escaped her. “You make me so happy.”

Azriel's heart ached, as he wrapped her in his arms. "You deserve all the happiness and love in the world," he murmured and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You are so strong. My brave, beautiful Gwyn."

She buried her face in his chest, tears dampening his skin and he held her close.

Azriel knew there would be difficult days ahead, old wounds that still needed tending and healing, wounds that took time. But he would be there through it all, every step of the way. Because he loved her and nothing would ever change that.

Chapter Text

Gwyn awoke with a start, her heart pounding as if chased by an unseen force. A nightmare, perhaps?

When she blinked her eyes open, she found herself naked under a cool blanket and a comforting pressure anchoring her in place.

A warm breeze caressed her face and shoulders rhythmically - a breath - contrasting sharply with the chilly night air that kissed the rest of her exposed flesh. Her body began remembering before her mind could comprehend, recalling the waves of pleasure that had rolled over her relentlessly last night until she was left panting and clinging to him as if he were a life raft amidst the stormy sea of ecstasy.

Azriel.

Moonlight filtered through the gossamer curtains, casting him in an ethereal silver glow and accentuating his golden-brown skin with spectral light. He lay on his side facing her, one arm casually thrown over her waist pulling her closer even in his slumber.

Just hours ago, she had given herself to him; completely.

Her gaze roamed over his sleeping figure, taking in the tranquil expression adorning his handsome face. His ever-present shadows had retreated for now, leaving him unguarded, in his full glory. She'd never seen him this peaceful before.

A soft sigh escaped Gwyn's lips at the intimacy of their tangled bodies. This man who had witnessed some of Prythian's darkest days—and her worst—provided solace she hadn't known she craved until now.

Had never imagined that she could find such comfort and connection with another person, especially the one who had seen her at her most vulnerable.

She watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, his dark hair cascading over his forehead in a way that begged for her touch.

Heat bloomed in Gwyn's cheeks as she basked in the sensation of his warm presence so close, the memory of him moving within her still fresh and the evidence still slick between her thighs.

The longer she focused on the feeling of his semen, the harder it was to ignore the fresh lust building inside her. She brushed her legs against each other in a futile attempt to tame the relentless heat coursing through her entire body.

The movement caused Azriel to stir beside her, his grip on her waist tightening momentarily before he settled back into steady breathing.

Her heart pounded like a drum in her chest.

Slowly, Gwyn reached up to brush aside the wayward lock, her fingertips hovering just above his skin when his hand shot out and captured her wrist.

Her gasp cut through the silence—a small sound of surprise that echoed loudly in the quiet night.

"Sorry," Azriel murmured, his voice rough with sleep as he released her hand. "Reflex."

Her touch resumed its course, gently sweeping the hair away from his eyes. He blinked up at her, his gaze soft and questioning. "Why aren't you asleep?"

Gwyn hesitated, her mind racing in search of a response. The truth was tangled in her thoughts, obscured by a swirling maelstrom of desire.

Gwyn's fingers traced a path from Azriel's forehead to his cheek, her touch as light as a butterfly's wing. She hesitated for a heartbeat before daring to trace the contours of his lips, entranced by their fullness and the promise they held.

Azriel's lips parted slightly, capturing one of her fingers between them.

His sharp teeth grazed against her delicate skin and the ache for him began building once again. It coiled in her belly and seeped between her legs, making it impossible to focus on anything else.

In response, his nostrils flared, and when her eyes met his, the darkness within them seemed to have deepened.

A heady, intoxicating scent filled the air; the smell of his own arousal. It was a rich combination of musk and earth, with a hint of something wild and untamed.

"Tell me why you're awake," Azriel asked again, his voice low and commanding. Gwyn shuddered in response.

Her breath hitched before she spoke. "I... I don't know. But now I can't go back to sleep anymore."

Unable to resist this ache any longer, she crushed her lips against his, hungry for more of the taste that he had given her last night.

Azriel responded immediately, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her flush against him, their bodies fitting together like two puzzle pieces that had been missing each other for far too long.

Gwyn's heart thudded wildly as she felt the unmistakable hardness of Azriel's growing erection pressing against her.

"Az?" she whimpered, her voice barely audible as she hooked her leg over his hip, pulling him even closer to her. The motion elicited a low groan from him.

"Yes," he murmured, his breath hot against her mouth as their lips hovered tantalizingly close to one another.

"I… I need you again," Gwyn breathed.

She pressed her body against his, aligning her slick entrance over his hardened length.

Gwyn relished in the primal sound she received from him as they made contact.

Azriel's hands, gentle yet possessive, traced over her body as she continued to rub herself against him, coating them both in a slick layer of arousal.

His fingers traced a fiery path down the arch of her back, causing her to tremble before he grasped her buttocks fiercely, driving her closer and matching the rhythm of her movements.

The other hand tangled itself in her hair, gripping tightly as he claimed her mouth with wild abandon.

Their mouths crashed together, lips bruising and tongues tangling in a frenzy of desire.

Her fingers trailed down his chest and abdomen, trembling with anticipation, before boldly gripping his throbbing cock, causing Azriel to moan into their passionate kiss.

She then hooked one arm behind his neck, not able to stand a moment longer with him not filling her.

Slowly she hoisted herself upwards and positioned herself right over him. His cock twitched in excitement, eliciting another moan from her.

The intense look in his eyes, as he watched her ease herself onto him, it was something Gwyn longed to preserve forever.

And she took her time. Trying to relish in the feeling of every new inch until he was fully inside her.

Azriel pulled away slightly, gasping for air. It was overwhelming, being joined with her so intimately like this. His body began trembling and somehow he knew his eyes were wide with wonder when she stared at him. But gods was she tight, he wouldn’t last a second longer if she didn’t proceed.

"Gwyn... please," he growled into her mouth, as he leaned forward again. His hands gripping her hips with desperate need. "Please move or I’m gonna burst."

With a moan, she began to move her hips, rolling them against his in a sensual rhythm that set both their bodies aflame.

Azriel's hands tightened, guiding her movements as she rode him. The sounds of their bodies moving together filled the room, punctuated by their moans and gasps of pleasure.

Gwyn's head fell back as she let herself get lost in the sensations, feeling every inch of Azriel inside her. It was like coming home after being lost for so long – all she needed was him.

Their eyes met again and Gwyn saw the love and devotion shining in his gaze.

Gwyn quickened her pace until they were both panting and grasping at each other frantically.

Azriel's hand moved from her hip to where they were joined, his thumb finding its way to her sensitive nub and rubbing it in tight circles.

With the other hand he stroked her skin, tracing the swell of her breasts, his fingers lingering on the delicate hollow of her throat. And with every caress, Gwyn felt her pleasure building, a pressure deep inside her that threatened to crack her open like a dam about to burst.

With a last moan she let go and the tidal wave of ecstasy crashed over her, sending her senses into a frenzy as she climaxed. She was on the verge of screaming when the waves did not stop. Probably because, even though she had stopped moving, Azriel was still pumping into her relentlessly. And the noises he made.

She buried her head in his neck and bit down hard, trying to contain her own sounds, which kept coming still.

Azriel's body trembled with the effort to hold back his own release, wanting to ensure Gwyn found her pleasure thoroughly first. But as soon as he felt the pain of her teeth on his shoulder, muffling her cries of ecstasy, there was no holding back. The sensation of her tightness surrounding him, milking him with each pulse of her orgasm, combined with the sharp sting of pain sent him over the edge.

With a roar that reverberated through the whole room, Azriel's control shattered as he came inside her once more. Every muscle in his body tensed as he rode the waves of it, feeling as though he were falling and flying all at once.

As they both lay there, panting and covered in sweat, Gwyn slowly parted from his neck and began to chuckle softly.

Azriel, still reeling from the intensity of their shared passion, furrowed his brow as he looked down at her.

"What's so funny?" he asked, his voice hoarse and breathless.

Gwyn's eyes twinkled with mischief as she replied, "I was trying to be mindful not to wake the others when I came, but your roar most definitely did the deed."

Azriel groaned in response, burying his face in her hair for a moment before meeting her gaze again. "The last thing on my mind right now, are Nesta and Cassian,“ he admitted, his voice softening as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

Gwyn's laughter subsided, replaced by a tender smile as she gazed into his dark, intense eyes.

Azriel lay back slightly, attempting to regain control of his senses.

"Are you on any contraceptive tonic?" he asked, concern lacing his voice as he traced a finger down her arm, goosebumps appearing in its wake.

Gwyn blushed, shaking her head. "No, there was never any need for it before."

A crooked grin spread across Azriel's face. "Well, we might have to change that now, don't we?"

As he spoke, he shifted, making Gwyn aware he was still buried inside her, hardening again as her walls involuntarily clenched around him.

"Do you take anything?" she managed to ask, her voice trembling though.

Azriel nodded, his gaze locked onto hers. "I do," he whispered, leaning forward to press a slow kiss against her lips.

And as they lost themselves in each other once more, the world outside disappeared.

Chapter Text

Gwyn woke to the first light peeking through the heavy curtains of Azriel's room. His arm was still draped over her bare waist and his bare chest pressed against her back. She carefully extracted herself from his embrace, shivering at the loss of his warmth.

A delicious soreness pulsed between her legs with every step as she gathered her clothes and dressed. Rather than embarrassment, a wicked thrill went through her at the reminder of how he had utterly claimed her body. Again and again through the night, reducing her to a quivering, pleading mess.

She leaned over the bed and pressed a soft kiss to his temple, murmuring, "See you at training." His arm flexed, grasping for her, but she slipped away with a soft smile.

The hallway of the priestesses' dormitory was empty, the others not yet awake. Gwyn scrubbed herself in the bathing room, washing away the scent of him, that was stubbornly clinging to her skin. Not because she was ashamed—never that. But this was something private, sacred, just for them. A secret to be guarded until they were both ready to share it with the world.

A bit later, Gwyn entered the wide yard of the training ring to find her friends already present. Her eyes found him in an instant.

The Shadowsinger stood across the ring, wings tucked close to his body, preparing a parcour for the priestesses he trained. His movements were fluid and graceful, shadows flickering around him, caressing his hands as he worked.

A sharp ache throbbed between her legs at the memory of those hands on her body, and she bit her lip to stifle a groan.

Azriel's head snapped up, shadows swirling toward her in a caress she felt down to her bones. Heat flashed in his eyes, and for a moment she forgot they weren't alone. But then the loud voices of Cassian and Nesta pierced through the fog that was clouding her mind.

Gwyn moved over to where Mor and Emerie were watching them bicker.

"What are they fighting about this time?" she asked.

Mor rolled her eyes. "Cassian was teasing Nesta about the amount of books she reads and then Nesta began teasing him about his food intake."

Emerie snorted. "That foolish Illyrian. He should know better than to insult Sellyn Drake."

The three females watched as Cassian and Nesta volleyed insults back and forth, their voices rising.

"I don't even know how you can lift your massive body off the ground with those tiny wings," Nesta said scathingly.

Cassian flexed his impressive wingspan. "These 'tiny wings' are under the biggest wingspans of all Prythian, sweetheart."

"Oh please. Have you seen Azriel’s?"

Gwyn frowned. "Should we step in? This is getting rather out of hand."

Mor waved her off. "Just give them five more minutes. It's their weird foreplay."

Before Gwyn or Emerie could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension.

"If you two are finished, can we get back to training?" Azriel asked pointedly. "You're giving everyone a headache with your bickering," he admonished with a stoic face.

Azriel met Gwyn’s gaze then, a secret smile curving his lips, meant only for her. Gwyn's knees weakened.

Cassian grumbled but nodded, wrapping an arm around Nesta's waist. Her scowl softened slightly at the contact.

"You know this is kinda your fault. Ness and I are both on the edge this morning, because we jolted awake by strange noises coming from your room last night." Cassian grinned.

Azriel's eyes widened imperceptibly before his expression smoothed into nonchalance. "No idea what you mean. I was sleeping just fine."

Cassian's grin only grew wider. "Uh huh. See, I don't think you were sleeping at all. In fact, I'd bet good money you had company over. Very...passionate...company."

A faint blush colored Azriel's cheeks, but he kept his face neutral. "You must have been dreaming, Cassian. I was alone all night."

"Sure, sure," Cassian chuckled, clapping him on the back. "Just try to keep it down next time, yeah? These walls aren't as thick as you'd think."

Azriel just shook his head, "Yeah, wouldn’t I know…"

Luckily, Cassian was willing to drop the subject... for now.

"Well, don't just stand there and watch. You’ve got warm ups to do."

Cassian's dry comment jerked the women back to the present, moving into their usual training spots.

"Morning, Gwyn," Nesta greeted her, a teasing glint in her eyes. "Why are you walking so funny?"

Gwyn froze, eyes darting to Azriel for a split second, who had gone utterly still.

Her face burned, but she lifted her chin and said evenly, "Just a minor sprain. I'll be fine."

"Hmm." Cassian eyed her speculatively, a smirk playing on his lips. "Doesn't look like an ankle injury to me."

Gwyn's cheeks flamed as the implication sank in. She opened her mouth, but no sound emerged.

Nesta sniffed. "Well, if you are sore… maybe you should rest." Her lips twitched.

Gwyn groaned inwardly. She was never going to live this down. "I’m fine."

When Cassian began barking orders for their warm-up exercises, she threw herself into the routine. The familiar movements helped calm her frazzled nerves, her body moving on instinct.

And yet, while she moved, it was nearly impossible to ignore the lingering sensations that danced across her skin. Every muscle she stretched seemed to whisper Azriel's name, and there was little she could do to keep her mind on the task at hand.

Cassian stepped into the center of the ring, his massive wings tucked in tight as he surveyed the group of females before him.

"Today we're going to work on counterattacks," he announced, hazel eyes glinting with excitement. "I'm going to demonstrate a series of moves, then you'll pair off and practice them."

Gwyn tried to focus as Cassian flowed through a sequence of blocks, lunges and strikes with lethal grace, his muscles rippling beneath his fighting leathers.

But his movements were so swift that she struggled to keep up and process them in time.

She wasn't the only one struggling. Nesta kept shooting daggers in Cassian's direction, while Emerie seemed unable to stop smirking at Gwyn every time their eyes met.

"Girls!" Cassian barked. "Pay attention, or you might hurt yourselves later."

They all barked a "Yes Sir" in mock annoyance back.

After Cassian finished his demonstration, they paired off to practice. Gwyn was with Mor, trying her best to counter the warrior’s quick jabs and kicks. The problem was, her body still thrummed with an echo of the pleasure Azriel had given her, making her strikes clumsy and reactions slower than usual.

As she went through the motions, Gwyn caught shreds of conversation between two priestesses, Roslin and Ananake, who were watching Azriel demonstrate the parkour course nearby.

"His wings are glorious," Roslin sighed dreamily. "Is it bad that I wonder how it might be to touch them."

Gwyn growled under her breath.

"I don’t know, but I do wonder how his hands feel sometimes… " Ananake giggled.

Jealousy flared through Gwyn, hot and visceral. She missed Mor's next strike, too distracted by the possessiveness swirling within.

How dare they ogle what was hers? She wanted to storm over and scratch their eyes out for looking at Azriel like that.

Mine, her instincts growled. No one gets to touch him but me.

But then a blow clipped her shoulder and she stumbled, hissing.

"Gwyn!" Mor grabbed her arm to steady her. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she gritted out, shaking herself loose. "Just got distracted."

Mor's gaze turned knowing as it slid to Azriel then back to her. "I see. Well keep your focus, or I might actually hurt you on accident."

Gwyn nodded, exhaling slowly to calm the irrational urge to stomp over and drag Azriel away from his adoring audience.

It was ridiculous. He was simply conducting himself in a professional manner, he hadn't done anything to warrant her jealousy. But her heart didn't listen to reason.

Gwyn tried to tamp down the possessiveness and forced herself to concentrate, flowing through the movements with Mor and trying not to let her gaze stray to the shadows wreathing the male who occupied her every thought.

After the training session ended though, Gwyn kept herself busy in the ring, waiting till the crowd dissolved.

She needed to see him, to touch him, to erase the memory of the priestesses ogling him. When most of them had disappeared, she slipped inside too, finding an alcove in the hallway that afforded a view of the entrance.

Azriel emerged a few minutes later, his wings tucked in close to his body. Gwyn's breath caught at the sight of him, darkness and desire swelling inside her.

She couldn't wait, not another heartbeat, not another breath.

With a surge of boldness that eclipsed reason, Gwyn burst from her hiding spot, launching herself at him.

Azriel's golden-brown eyes widened, the only sign of his surprise, as she collided with him, her mouth finding his with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

"By the Cauldron," he murmured against her lips, a low chuckle vibrating from his throat as he stumbled back into the alcove she had just vacated.

Gwyn's hands roamed over him, tracing the contours of muscle and sinew beneath his clothes, mapping the landscape of his body that she'd come to know so intimately. Their breaths mingled, a heady blend of need and affection that filled the space around them, seeping into the very stones.

Azriel's hands were a calming presence against the small of Gwyn's back, but his touch did little to quell the storm raging within her. His wings, grand and shadowy, enveloped them, creating a veil from the world beyond their hidden alcove. Still, Azriel was wary, his eyes scanning for any passersby, his protective instinct never at rest.

"Easy, Gwyn," he murmured, his voice a deep thrum that resonated in her bones. But she could feel the tremor of his own restraint wavering as she traced the line of his jaw with fervent kisses.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, attempting to still her wandering hands which sought out the heat beneath his clothes. "Gwyn, we're practically—"

"This is your fault," she countered, his breath hitching as she found the sensitive spot just below his ear.

"My fault?" Azriel echoed, a hint of devilish amusement in his eyes.

"For being so...so..." Her words trailed off, unfinished, as she nipped at his lower lip, eliciting a low groan from him.

He caught her chin then, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.

"For being so what?" he prompted, his tone teasing yet laced with curiosity.

Gwyn paused, her cheeks flushing with emotion, and she swallowed hard, as if gathering the courage to voice her thoughts aloud.

"For being so … irresistible," she admitted softly."Charming," she continued, "Attentive", punctuating each word with a soft, deliberate touch of her fingertips against his chest. "Infuriating. Hot. Take your pick."

Azriel huffed at her teasing words, but there was a glint of surprise and delight in his eyes.

He gripped her wrists gently, pulling her hands away from him as he searched her face for answers. "Why the sudden... display of passion?"

Gwyn sighed, her shoulders sagging slightly as she admitted the truth. "I saw the way the other priestesses were ogling you today, and it made me so jealous. All I could think about was claiming you once more, making it clear that you're mine." Shame colored her cheeks, but she didn't back down.

Azriel's expression softened, and he pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her protectively. "Gwyn," he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, "you know you have nothing to be jealous of. I'm yours, and only yours."

Her heart swelled at his words, and she couldn't help but lean in for another searing kiss, their lips melding together as if they belonged nowhere else.

Azriel chuckled, his laughter warm and rich like the finest whiskey.

When they finally broke apart, chests heaving, Azriel rested his forehead against hers once more. A wry smile tugged at his lips. "But I like this side of yours. I should provoke your jealousy more often."

Gwyn smacked his shoulder. "Don't you dare."

"But as much as I enjoy this, the hallway is hardly an appropriate place." His lips quirked. "Besides, you're still sore from earlier. Even Nesta noticed."

Gwyn felt her cheeks heat at the reminder, a delicious ache pulsing between her legs. "I don't mind," she breathed, fingers curling into his leathers. "I like the reminder of what we did. Of you."

Azriel's eyes darkened, a gust of arousal swirled around them. Gwyn shivered in return.

"Is that so?" Azriel's voice was rough gravel. He leaned in, nuzzling the sensitive spot below her ear. "You like being sore because of me?"

Gwyn tilted her head back with a soft moan, desire igniting under his lips. "Yes," she gasped. "And I… I want you again. Now."

With a swift, deliberate movement, Gwyn's hands slipped behind Azriel's neck, drawing him down to meet her fervent kiss. The shadowsinger's breath hitched as he responded, his restraint slipping with every touch.

"It seems I have created a monster," Azriel murmured into the space between their mouths, his voice a caress that was both teasing and tender.

"Hey," she protested lightly, pushing against his chest, her cheeks flushed with the playful indignance of a lover's jest.

"Do you think there’s something wrong with me," Gwyn asked, her voice now wavering slightly with concern, "to want you again so soon, after we just…"

Azriel shook his head. "Nothing about this is wrong," he assured her. "It's natural to feel this way, especially considering how new this all is for you." He hesitated, and then added, "I remember what it was like when I first discovered sex - the overwhelming sensations, the insatiable need... It's normal, Gwyn."

His words were meant to offer solace, yet they somehow did not resonate with what she felt. And she certainly did not need this picture of Azriel tangled with someone else in his youth now swirling in her mind.

It totally wasn't just about the physical aspect of sex; the newness of it.

No. It was about him. She craved closeness with him, as if without it she would suffocate.

Her voice shook with vulnerability as she spoke. "It's not about that," she said, pausing to gather her thoughts. "It's about being with YOU. But maybe I'm just losing my mind."

Azriel couldn't help but step back, a smile genuine and rare spreading across his face—a smile that reached his eyes, crinkling them at the corners, revealing a joy so pure it chased away all the darkness that so faithfully clung to him. He brushed his hair back from his forehead, and cupped her face gently in his scarred hands. His touch was a balm, soothing and understanding in ways words never could be.

"No," he said softly, his thumb tracing the line of her jaw with exquisite care. "You are not losing your mind. I understand, I feel it too."

He kissed her then, soft and slow, trying to convey all the love swelling within him through the connection of their lips. He cradled the back of her neck, fingers tangling into her hair, angling her head to deepen the kiss. Their breaths mingled, hearts racing in tandem as he explored her mouth.

It was different than their previous frantic kisses, filled with a tender reverence. He brushed his nose against hers, nudging her head back to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her throat. She sighed, hands grasping at his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closer.

He smiled against her skin, nipping lightly at the junction of her neck and shoulder. A small gasp escaped her, back arching off the wall. Azriel's hands trailed down her sides, gripped her hips tightly as he continued his sensual assault on her neck. The small sounds falling from her lips were intoxicating.

He wanted more, wanted to worship every inch of her, show her just how much she meant to him. His shadows swirled around them, caressing her skin like phantom hands. She shivered at the sensation, tugging at the hem of his shirt, desperate for the feeling of skin on skin.

Azriel broke their kiss, resting his forehead against hers as they both caught their breath.

With a deftness that belied the gentleness in his eyes, he captured her hand and guided it down towards the evidence of his own desire. The fabric of his trousers did little to disguise the heat and firmness pressing against her palm.

"See?" His breath ghosted over her ear, a whisper that carried the weight of all the things left unsaid. "And I want you, all the fucking time, too."

The world narrowed down to the point of contact where her hand met the solid proof of his arousal. She could almost taste the savory-sweet flavor of his control slipping.

Gwyn whimpered, desire swirling through her blood like fire. She squeezed him gently, thrilling at the groan that rumbled in his chest.

"Don’t do that," Azriel warned, though he made no move to pull away. His shadows flickered in agitation around them, reacting to his arousal.

"We really can’t. Not here, not now." He said tightly.

"Tease," she muttered, but smiled up at him.

Azriel huffed a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners. "Look who's talking." He brushed a thumb over her kiss-swollen lips. "You're the one who ambushed me."

"And yet you're the one leaving me wanting," Gwyn shot back, unable to keep the longing from her voice.

Azriel's eyes darkened, but he shook his head.

Gwyn frowned, disappointment and need warring within her. She knew Azriel was right, but...she wanted him so badly it hurt.

"If you wanted to distract me from wanting you, that was the entirely wrong tactic," she said irritably.

Azriel winced, scrubbing a hand over his face. "You're right, I apologize," he said. "I shouldn't have done that."

"I'm not complaining," Gwyn muttered, still annoyed despite understanding the logic behind Azriel's refusal. "Just pointing out your flawed logic."

Azriel's lips quirked into a smile, eyes glinting with humor. "Duly noted," he said dryly. "In the future, I will avoid such...tactics...if I want you to focus."

Gwyn sniffed, fighting a smile of her own. "Well isn’t that the problem? That you have my focus… all of it," she stated, unable to keep the laughter from her voice.

Azriel chuckled, shadows fading back to their usual state. He cupped her cheek, thumb stroking over her skin.

"What am I going to do with you?" he asked softly.

Gwyn smiled, leaning into his touch. "Keep me around?"

"That is out of question. You might grow bored of me eventually though."

Azriel replied with a smile, though a hint of sadness passed through his eyes.

"Not a chance," Gwyn said firmly. She curled her fingers into his shirt, holding his gaze. "Remember what you said to me ? That I am it for you. Same. You're it for me too, Azriel. For as long as you'll have me."

Azriel's breath caught, shadows flickering over his face. But then he smiled again, slow and soft, and Gwyn's heart nearly burst from her chest.

"Forever then," he said quietly and Gwyn surged up on her toes, crushing her lips to his once more.

Chapter Text

Gwyn and Nesta sat at the dinner table in the House of Wind, basking in the warm glow of the sunset that streamed through the large windows. Gwyn's coppery hair shimmered like molten metal as it cascaded down her back, framing her freckled cheeks and teal eyes.

She wore a soft, cream-colored blouse that complemented her pale skin, while her slender fingers toyed with the silverware before her. Nesta, on the other hand, was dressed in a simple yet elegant black dress that hugged her curves, her golden-brown hair pinned up in a loose bun.

"Where's Cassian?" Gwyn asked, her eyes scanning the room for any sign of the boisterous Illyrian warrior.

"At a meeting with Rhys and Az," Nesta replied as she poured wine into Gwyn’s glass, while her own was filled with water.

The liquid shimmered like rubies in the dying light and Gwyn took a small pleasure in swirling it around.

"Something important?" she asked, finally taking a sip of the wine and savoring the velvety texture as it slid down her throat.

"When is something ever not important with Rhys?," the oldest Archeron grinned.

She leaned back in her chair and studied Gwyn with a thoughtful gaze. "You know," she began slowly, "we never really had the chance to talk about your three weeks of silence at the temple."

The movements of Gwyn’s hand paused.

There was no stopping her mind from racing back to the that last day and the intimate moment she had shared with Azriel during the sacred washing and everything that had happened afterwards...

Heat pooled in her cheeks and to her dismay also between her legs. How could she possibly explain to Nesta what had transpired without revealing their secret? As much as she wanted to talk about it, discuss every little detail with her, tell her how much had changed - how much SHE had changed - Gwyn knew she couldn’t. Not right now at least.

"Ah, yes," Gwyn replied with a small smile,"It already feels like a lifetime ago."

"Tell me about it," Nesta urged gently, leaning forward with genuine interest.

Gwyn's smile grew more pronounced as she considered her response. "Well, it was... quiet," she said, the corners of her eyes crinkling with suppressed amusement.

"Quiet? What, you don't say," Nesta drawled, rolling her eyes but grinning all the same.

Gwyn sighed, her gaze drifting towards the window as if she could see the temple of silence in the distance. "I needed time to think," she admitted, her voice softer now. "The temple provided that."

"Time to think, huh?" Nesta raised an eyebrow, her voice dripping with mischief. "About anything in particular? Maybe a certain Shadowsinger?"

Gwyn's cheeks flushed a deep red, and she huffed indignantly. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," she muttered, trying to sound convincing, but failing miserably.

"Sure, you don't," Nesta teased, the glint in her eye unmistakable. "You can deny it all you want, but your scent shifts every time he enters a room … or you think about him."

"No, it doesn't!" Gwyn yelped, her heart pounding in her chest as she tried to keep her voice steady. But the doubt in her voice was evident even for her own ears.

"Keep your secrets, Gwyn," Nesta said with a knowing smile. "But just remember, you're not fooling anyone – least of all me."

"Can we please change the subject?" Gwyn begged, her cheeks hot. Nesta smirked but acquiesced.

"Fine," she relented. "Have you started reading the book I recommended?"

Gwyn's eyes lit up with excitement, grateful for the distraction. "Yes! I just began it last night, and I'm totally hooked." They launched into an animated discussion about the book, their laughter filling the room as they dissected the plot twists and character dynamics.

As they chatted, the House provided them with a veritable feast of mouthwatering dishes – roasted vegetables, succulent meats, and fragrant sauces that seemed to dance on their taste buds. Gwyn couldn't help but marvel at the bounty before them, feeling all the more incredibly grateful for this second chance at life she was given.

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of a door opening, and both women glanced over to see Azriel and Cassian entering the room.

Gwyn's heart skipped a beat as Azriel's eyes found hers immediately, his gaze dark and intense. His wings twitched slightly, betraying his excitement at seeing her.

Cassian strode in, clapping Azriel on the back with a grin before making his way towards the table. "Ladies," he greeted, leaning down to smudge a big, sloppy kiss on Nesta's cheek.

"Get off, you brute!" Nesta exclaimed, shoving him playfully as she wiped her cheek. But her eyes sparkled with mirth, and she couldn't help but laugh at his wink.

Cassian plopped down unceremoniously beside her, making himself comfortable as he stole bites from her plate.

Gwyn’s own laughter ran out, as she watched their affectionate banter. But then her gaze was drawn back to the other Illyrian, whose presence commanded attention in a more silent yet just as powerful way.

Unlike his boisterous brother, Azriel approached with quiet grace, his steps barely making a sound on the floor. His manner was decidedly more gentlemanly as he greeted them both, his voice low and velvety.

"Good evening," he said, his eyes lingering on Gwyn for a moment longer than necessary."May we join you?"

"Of course," Nesta replied, gesturing to the empty chair beside Gwyn. She shot Cassian a teasing glance. "Perhaps you could learn a thing or two from your brother about manners."

"But where's the fun in that?" Cassian retorted, grinning as he pilfered another morsel from Nesta's plate.

As Azriel settled gracefully into his seat. An undercurrent of electricity hummed between Gwyn and him as their eyes met once again.

"Pray tell," he said slow and deliberate. "What were you discussing before we so rudely interrupted?"

"Ah," Nesta interjected with a sly grin, "we were just sharing our thoughts on the latest novel we've been reading."

Cassian choked on his stolen bite, coughing and spluttering as he tried to regain his composure. "You mean that thing with the half naked couple on the cover?"

Gwyn felt her cheeks flush, but she held her ground, determined not to let Cassian's teasing get the better of her. "It's an excellent book," she defended, exchanging a knowing glance with Nesta.

Azriel's lips quirked up in amusement, his eyes flicking between the two women. "I'm sure it is," he murmured, his gaze settling on Gwyn once more.

Gwyn felt her breath catch as his piercing eyes met hers. Though his expression remained neutral, she sensed a simmering heat behind his stoic facade. Her mind wandered unbidden to the memory of his strong, scarred hands gliding over her body, his soft lips worshipping every inch of her skin.

She shifted in her seat, warmth pooling low in her belly at the memories. Gwyn knew she had to rein in her thoughts before the others noticed her reaction.

Clearing her throat, she reached for her wine glass and took a long sip, hoping the tart liquid would distract her rising desire.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Azriel's gaze hadn't left her. The barest hint of a smirk played on his lips and his eyes darkened, as if he could read her very thoughts. Gwyn's breath caught again, heat flooding her cheeks. She quickly looked away, willing her thundering heart to slow.

She needed to steer the conversation to safer waters, “Are you hungry. Do you want to eat something?" Half-expecting Cassian to devour the rest of her meal as well.

Azriel frowned at his brother, who continued to pick at Nesta's plate with unabashed glee. "We actually ate earlier at the Riverhouse," he admitted, his voice smooth as silk.

"Really?" Gwyn teased, her eyes dancing with mischief. "I can hardly tell."

At that moment, something grazed Gwyn's ankle under the table, causing her to hiss in surprise. Her gaze flew to Azriel, whose lips curved ever so slightly at the corners and she immediately knew it must have been one of his shadows.

"Everything alright, Gwyn?" Nesta asked, concern flickering in her eyes.

"Fine, just...just a bit jumpy," Gwyn stammered.

"How did your meeting with Rhysand go?" Nesta asked.

Azriel's gaze remained locked on Gwyn for a brief moment longer, but his expression had changed.

His dark and beautiful voice was measured as he replied."Devlon was spotted," he paused, "heading into the Autumn Court."

That simple statement hung heavy between them. Nesta's brow furrowed, and Gwyn leaned in, her earlier levity replaced by the gravity of implication.

"What does that mean?" Gwyn asked, her voice a hushed whisper, as if afraid speaking louder would make it all the more real.

"Devlon's loyalties have always been... questionable," Azriel replied, his shadows coiling tighter around him. "He might be seeking an alliance with Beron."

Cassian's expression turned grim, the lines of his face hardening. "Actually we have evidence, that several Illyrians have gone rogue," he explained, his hand unconsciously curling into a fist. "Probably to challenge Rhys's rule – to start a rebellion."

A silence fell, laden with the weight of unspoken fears. Nesta's lips parted, ready with a barrage of further questions, but she seemed to hold herself back, understanding the delicacy of the information being shared.

Azriel's gaze remained unreadable, yet there was a certain tightness around his eyes that spoke of the tension gripping him. "I've dispatched spies to gather more intelligence," he said, the assurance in his tone doing little to mask the undercurrent of concern.

His role as the spymaster meant he thrived on information, yet now, even he seemed to be grappling with uncertainty.

"Could Devlon really sway others to turn against the Night Court?" Gwyn's question was soft but carried the weight of dread that had settled over them.

"We don’t think Devlon is working alone," Cassian admitted.

Gwyn's thoughts churned with worry as she tried to process the news they had shared. She couldn't imagine the devastation another war would bring, especially after everything they had fought for and sacrificed during the last.

"We have increased our security measures around Velaris," Cassian informed them.

Azriel's voice was resolute when she spoke, "Right now, there isn't much we can do except wait."

The weight of the conversation settled over them like a suffocating blanket.

Gwyn stirred her food around her plate, her appetite completely gone.

Azriel's keen gaze lingered on her, noticing her unease. After a heavy moment of silence, he leaned sideways to Gwyn, "I've been meaning to ask, how is Merrill doing lately? Giving you any trouble?"

Gwyn was grateful for the change of subject and she smiled wryly at Azriel's question. "Always," she replied with a small laugh."She actually told me the other day that my singing sounds like a dying ox."

Nesta let out an unexpected laugh. "That sounds like something she'd say. Maybe we should consider getting her into training. It seems like she has some pent-up aggression that needs releasing."

Cassian grinned. "I like how you think, sweetheart."

"I'd worry about unleashing her onto the world." Gwyn mused.

Azriel let out a low, warm chuckle, before he offered, "You know, if she ever becomes too much, you can always come to me."

"I know, ‘Errand-boy’," calling him by the name Merrill had given him months ago. "But I can handle her just fine."

Nesta and Cassian shared an amused glance, noticing the easy camaraderie between their friends.

"Did you hear that, Azzy?" Cassian chimed in with a grin. "Looks like Gwyn can handle herself just fine."

Azriel's lips twitched. "Yeah, I've always known Gwyn has a low tolerance for nonsense."

"And yet she tolerates you two," Nesta teased.

Gwyn laughed as Azriel shot Nesta a playful glare.

"I'll have you know we have many redeeming qualities," Cassian replied.

"Oh yes, brooding in corners is such a talent," Gwyn said, giving Azriel a pointed look.

The Shadowsinger raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't aware you found me so compelling."

"So compelling, that she can't take her eyes off you when you do it," Cassian waggled his bushy eyebrows suggestively.

And Gwyn rolled her eyes at him in return."True. But mostly because I'm waiting to see if you'll walk into a wall or trip over your own feet."

Azriel's eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't walk into walls."

"No, but you did almost fall flat on your face the other day during training," Gwyn said, barely containing her laughter.

Azriel's cheeks reddened slightly, but his gaze remained steady on Gwyn. "That was your fault."

Gwyn's grin widened, her eyes sparkling with mirth as she turned to Nesta and Cassian. "We were working on defensive maneuvers, and Azriel was showing me how to anticipate and evade an attacker's strikes," she began, a laugh bubbling up in her throat.

Azriel gave her a wary look, already knowing where this story was headed.

"He told me to come at him, to try and land a blow while he dodged me. So I aimed a kick at his side, which he easily avoided. Then I aimed a punch at his shoulder, and he leaned back, my fist sailing past him. He had this smug little smile, like 'see, you can't hit me'."

Nesta chuckled, clearly delighting in seeing Azriel discomfited. Cassian was grinning from ear to ear.

"So I changed tactics, feinting left before swinging my right leg around, trying to sweep his feet out from under him. But he just jumped up out of the way." Gwyn was smiling wide now, shaking her head at the memory.

"That's when I got an idea. I made like I was going to punch him again, and when he went to dodge, I..." She paused for dramatic effect. "I ruffled his hair as hard as I could!"

Azriel sighed, but Gwyn could see the corner of his mouth twitching.

"He was so surprised that I'd messed up his perfect hair that he stumbled over his own feet and nearly face-planted into the dirt!" Gwyn finished, dissolving into giggles. Only Azriel knew, it hadn’t been the disheveled state of his hair but rather her touch, that had caused him to loose his footing.

Cassian roared with laughter. And Nesta had to press a hand to her mouth to not spit out her water.

"You played dirty," Azriel said, but his eyes were warm on Gwyn as she laughed.

"But so worth it to see the look on your face," Gwyn replied affectionately. "The great Shadowsinger, felled by a head rub."

Azriel just shook his head, a reluctant smile creeping onto his face as he endured her playful teasing. It was all worth it to hear Gwyn's unfettered laughter, to see the joy sparkling in her teal eyes again.

"Careful, brother," Cassian teased, though his voice held a note of respect. "I think this one might be your match in more ways than one."

Azriel's only response was another stolen glance at Gwyn.

Cassian had no idea; or maybe he did?

The general leaned back in his chair,"You know," he drawled with a low, velvety voice full of amusement, "I've witnessed Az face down the most terrifying nightmares that could make any grown fae weep. But I've never seen anyone render him so speechless as our sweet, innocent Gwynnie does." His lips curled into a dangerous smirk.

Azriel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he fixed Cassian with an unimpressed look. "You might want to reconsider your definition of 'innocent', Cassian," he retorted, only realizing how the words sounded after they had left his mouth.

He swiftly continued, hoping the others did not pick up on the wavering in his tone, "Have you actually read any of the books she and Nesta have been enjoying lately?"

"Ah, yes, the smutty mystery novels. How could I forget." He shot her a wicked grin. Gwyn resisted the childish impulse to stick out her tongue in response and instead hid her face behind her wine glass.

"Besides," Cassian continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "She was very eager to know about Wingplay the other day."

At the mention of wingplay, Azriel's eyes flickered with something darker – a mixture of surprise and jealousy that he quickly tried to suppress. But Gwyn noticed it, her heart skipping a beat at the intensity of his gaze.

Nesta's eyebrows shot up as she caught on. "Hold on," she interrupted, a smirk playing on her lips. "Really, Gwyn?"

Gwyn squirmed in her seat. Nesta would so never let that go. "I-It was just... curiosity," she stammered, avoiding Azriel's eyes. "I didn't know much about it and... Cassian seemed like the right person to ask at the time. Which I totally regret doing now, by the way." She glared at him with a menacing expression, but Cassian remained unfazed.

"Research purposes you called it, if I remember correctly?" Cassian drawled, smirking at Gwyn. "Research for what exactly, Gwynnie?"

Azriel was silent, his shadows swirling around him as if echoing his turbulent emotions. He couldn't help but wonder why Gwyn had chosen to speak to Cassian about something so intimate instead of approaching him directly. The thought gnawed at him.

Gwyn's face flushed a deep red as Cassian teased her. She shot him a withering look, though it did little to deter his amusement.

"That's quite enough, Cassian," Azriel finally interjected, his voice low. Though his face remained impassive, a dangerous glint flickered in his hazel eyes.

Cassian held up his hands in mock surrender, leaning back in his chair. "Alright, brother, no need to pull out the shadows."

Azriel said nothing, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. Gwyn reached under the table, her hand finding Azriel's and giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. At her touch, some of the tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

"Az is just jealous Gwyn didn't ask him." Nesta chided.

Cassian barked out a laugh as Azriel's eyes widened almost imperceptibly. Gwyn bit her lip, torn between mortification and amusement.

"Anyway," Nesta drawled, "clearly you two have some things to discuss later." She gave them a knowing look. "For now, Gwyn, there is a reason why I invited you over tonight."

Gwyn turned to Nesta, confusion written all over her face. "Oh? And why is that?"

Nesta smiled, though there was an uncharacteristic softness to it. "Cassian and I were talking, and we like you around. So much so, that we wanted to invite you to move in with us." She glanced briefly at Azriel, whose eyes sparkled with unspoken delight. "That is, if you want to."

Gwyn's eyes went wide, touched by the offer. "I...I don't know what to say." She looked between Nesta and Cassian."I’ve been living with priestesses my whole life..."

"Well you wouldn't have to give your priestesshood up," Nesta reassured her, reaching over to pat Gwyn's hand gently. "You could still serve as one – but with a bit more freedom and independence. And a lot more laughs in between."

Azriel glanced at Gwyn, his shadows curling protectively around her feet as he quietly supported Nesta's suggestion. He wanted her closer, within the warmth and safety of their circle of friends. But he respected her choice, whatever it may be.

Gwyn's fingers traced the rim of her glass, her thoughts racing as she weighed the pros and cons.

"Maybe," she conceded, her voice thoughtful but at ease. "I'll think about it."

"Take your time," Nesta encouraged, giving her a supportive smile. "We'll be here, no matter what you decide."

"I honestly could use an ally against these two," Azriel said, nodding towards Nesta and Cassian. “But I feel it's only right to inform you - there's a good chance you'll catch them at it, anywhere and at any time.”

Gwyn's laughter bubbled up, vibrant and warm, while Nesta snorted indignantly, her cheeks flushing. "That is not true," she protested, shooting a playful glare at Azriel.

"Really?" Azriel challenged, quirking an eyebrow. "I can recall several instances right at this very table we're sitting at."

Cassian's eyes widened in mock horror, and before Azriel could divulge any more scandalous details, he lunged across the table, hand outstretched to clamp over his brother's mouth. "You do not need to share that with Gwyn!" he exclaimed.

Gwyn watched their antics, her heart swelling with affection for these people who had become her family. She knew they were just trying to lighten the mood, to make her feel at ease with the idea of living with them. And in that moment, she realized how much she had needed this – the camaraderie, the laughter, the intimacy.

As Cassian released Azriel, who was now chuckling softly, Gwyn's gaze lingered on the Shadowsinger.

The way his eyes met hers, a silent understanding passing between them, made her ache for him in ways she never thought possible. An ache that involved things like a own house and children.

With a deep breath, Gwyn decided to let herself be swept away by the tide of change, to embrace the possibility of a new life with these extraordinary beings. "You know what?" she said, a determined spark lighting up her eyes. "I’m gonna do it. I will move in with you."

A wave of elation washed over Azriel's face, but he quickly schooled his features into something more neutral, nodding slightly as if to say, 'Good choice.'

Nesta and Cassian exchanged triumphant smiles, their hands finding each other beneath the table.

"Welcome home then, Gwyn," Nesta whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

Later that night…

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its cold light through the windows of his bedroom. The shadows, his constant companions, writhed and twisted along the walls, their eerie movements reflecting his inner turmoil.

Azriel stepped in front of Gwyn. His broad frame blocking out the light, making him appear as a creature wrought from the night itself.

"Why did you ask Cassian?" His voice rumbled deep and dangerous, filled with a burning curiosity that bordered on accusation.

Gwyn’s eyes moved up to face his piercing stare. There he was; the Spymaster of the Night Court. She had wondered when she would finally meet this side of him.

A surge of primal excitement coursed through her body. When she did not respond immediately, Azriel growled, low and menacing, almost like a wolf.

"Don't you dare growl at me," Gwyn snapped back, refusing to back down from the dangerous male before her. "I was curious. And he was there. Less threatening than…"

"Less threatening than what?" Azriel urged.

She looked up at him through her lashes. "Less threatening than to actually ask the male I could see myself doing these things with. I was afraid it would reveal how much I wanted you, that you wouldn't feel the same. Or you'd think I was improper."

Azriel stepped closer, grasping her chin to tilte her face up. "It wouldn’t have been improper." His thumb caressed her lower lip. "But it definitely would have set my mind reeling..."

Before she could think better of it, she parted her lips and grazed her teeth against the calloused pad, making him hiss. The heady scent of his arousal filled the air between them.

"Gwyn," he growled again, though this time the sound was laced with desire rather than reprimand.

She looked up at him through her lashes once more, heart pounding at the barely restrained need etched into his handsome features. "Yes?"

"There was a time when just standing next to you was enough to make me stammer like a fool," he admitted, voice rough. "Do you have any idea what you do to me?"

Gwyn slowly sucked his thumb into her mouth, swirling her tongue around the digit as she maintained eye contact. Azriel's pupils dilated, leaving only a thin ring of hazel around endless black. His wings flexed restlessly behind him, the membrane glowing faintly in the dim light.

She knew exactly what she was doing to him. And she had no intention of stopping.

Gwyn huffed. "And here I had thought I was just another priestess with a unrequited crush on the handsome shadowsinger," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel's fingers gently traced the curve of her jaw, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "No. You were definitely not alone with these… feelings. I noticed your glances, by the way," he said, his voice low and honeyed. "But I didn't want to presume anything, especially given our... first encounter." His eyes bore into hers, dark and intense, as if searching her very soul.

“I still can’t believe this is real.” he whispered.

Slowly, as if he feared spooking a skittish creature, Azriel lowered his lips to hers. His kiss was tentative at first, as if testing the waters – then hungrier and more demanding as the heat between them built. She wound her fingers into his silky hair, pulling him closer as his tongue caressed hers in a slow, sensual dance that left her panting for more.

His hands slid down her back, molding themselves to the curves of her hips before lifting her off the ground. Gasping, Gwyn instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist as their kisses deepened further still.

Pinning her against the wall, Azriel used his heightened strength to grind their lower bodies together – softness against hardness – enflaming an a fire inside of her she never knew existed, before she had met him.

She tugged at his tunic, desperate to feel his bare skin against hers.

Azriel broke the kiss, looking down at her eager fingers, a small smile playing on the corner of his lips.

He set her down again, putting enough space between them to strip off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and sculpted abs.

Reaching out, she traced a scar with a feather-light touch. Azriel shuddered under her caress. “Your touch drives me insane.”

His hands drifted down her sides, fingers hooking into the hem of her own blouse. "May I?" he murmured. At her nod, he lifted the fabric up and over her head, discarding it on the floor. Her bralet followed next.

The way his gaze raked over her exposed skin, made her squirm.

"You are so beautiful," he rasped, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down her neck to her collarbone.

His lips moved lower until he reached the swell of her breasts. His tongue flicked out, teasing one taut nipple before his mouth closed over it. She arched into him with a gasp, hands scrabbling at his shoulders.

"Azriel," she breathed, the rest of her request dying on her lips as he lavished attention on her chest. Her own hands drifted lower, fumbling with the laces of his leathers until she could push them down over his hips. He kicked them off the rest of the way.

Gwyn traced the hard ridges of his abs, and his muscles rippled under her touch, as she trailed further down.

Catching her wrists, he guided them higher, back around his neck. "Let me," he growled low in her ear.

She sucked in a breath as he dropped to his knees before her, tugging her pants down along with him. He was a study in dark seduction, and she couldn't tear her eyes from him. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he kissed his way down the inside of one thigh and then the other.Her heart pounded in anticipation of what he might do next.

As if sensing her thoughts, he flashed a wicked grin. "Did you miss this?" With that he dipped his head between her legs, causing her to cry out. His shadows slipped between her folds, cool yet caressing, mimicking the motions of his tongue. Gwyn's nails dug into his shoulders as she bucked against him. "Gods above," she moaned, "Azriel!"

He chuckled darkly as he continued to tease her with both tongue and shadow, driving her to the brink of orgasm before pulling away. Gasping for air, she panted, "Why did you... why did you stop?”

She was adorable when she was frustrated.

"Mmm?" He purred while staring up at her through hooded lashes. Gwyn could have sworn there was a twinkle in those dark depths.

"You are so wicked," she accused, but there was no real heat behind her words. She was too caught up in the pleasure he was giving her.

Azriel grinned as he rose to his feet and pressed his body against hers. She could feel his arousal pressing against her thigh.

"You have no idea," he murmured before capturing her lips in a searing kiss. Gwyn moaned into the kiss, her body melting against him.

Suddenly, he broke the kiss and growled in her ear, "Next time you want to know something, Gwyn, you come straight to me. Understood?"

Gwyn didn't have time to respond before he had her wrists pinned above her head and a leg between hers. "I said, did you understand?"

Without warning, he bit down on her neck; hard.

Gwyn gasped and clutched at her throat, as soon as he let go of her wrists, feeling a stinginging heat where his teeth had been; but there was no blood.

"Yes, damn it!" she hissed through gritted teeth as arousal coiled even more tightly in her abdomen.

He leaned back in and licked the mark tenderly, lapping away the sting as if to apologize for the harshness of his bite.

"Good girl." The praise sent a wave of warmth through Gwyn's body that was entirely unwarranted given the pain coming from her neck but she didn't care because all she could focus on was how wet and aching between her legs she was feeling right now.

"Now," he purred against her ear before nibbling on her lobe again causing goosebumps to break out all over her skin,"I think it's time for bed."

He swept an arm around Gwyn's waist and lifted her bridal style before striding towards his bed without another word spoken between them.

Gwyn's brain swirled as he laid her down gently and climbed over her. "Azriel," she breathed, her voice shaking slightly with desire and anticipation.

"Shhh," he soothed, running soothing circles around her bite mark with his thumb. "Relax for me."

Gwyn closed her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath, trying to follow his command.

He kissed her then, a languid, slow, drugging kiss that had her arching into him without any conscious thought. His tongue flicked against hers, teasing, tasting before plunging in for a deeper kiss that made her moan out more loudly than she'd like to admit. His hands were everywhere at once, touching and caressing every inch of her skin he could reach. It was all she could do not to buck herself against him and beg for more. But Azriel was in no hurry.

His lips trailed down her jawline and collar bone before nipping at her clavicle. "Azriel," she whined again, unable to stop the plea that escaped her lips.

He chuckled darkly as though he knew exactly how on edge he had her and Gwyn couldn't help but whimper in frustration. As if he could read her mind or maybe it was just a divine miracle, his mouth found its way between her legs and Gwyn arched up off the bed with a gasp. The feeling of his warm, wet tongue against her over sensitized folds had white-hot heat pooling between her thighs as she clutched at the sheets above her head.

His tongue swirled around her clit in slow, exaggerated patterns that made Gwyn moan and writh around underneath him. He seemed to take pleasure in teasing her as he lapped at her core, licking and sucking each crease before moving on to the next one without giving her what she needed most. "Please," she managed to gasp out as his teeth grazed over an especially sensitive spot causing an electric shock to shoot up her spine and she needed him inside her now, like yesterday.

"Please what?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

"Just … please," she mewled again, every ounce of her willpower gone.

He chuckled but this time it was a victorious sound as he pushed two fingers inside her and began to move them in and out in time with his tongue circling her clit. Gwyn's world exploded into a million colors as she came apart beneath him, crying out his name as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

As she came down from her high, Gwyn looked down at Azriel through heavy lids to see him watching her with a satisfied smirk on his face and she couldn't help but laugh. "Show off," she panted, swatting at his shoulder playfully.

The smirk softened into a genuine smile that reached his eyes and Gwyn's heart stuttered. Before she could say anything else, he kissed her again, his tongue delving inside her mouth, demanding entrance which she gladly gave him.

Her hands fisted in his hair as she moaned into his mouth, arching against him as he ground their hips together.

All coherent thought left her mind as she met him thrust for thrust, their moans mingling together in the dimly lit room.

Suddenly her back arched off the bed and he slid inside her, filling her up completely.

This was it, this was what she had craved, and it terrified and excited her all at once but mostly it just felt right...so very right.

His pace started out slow but picked up speed quickly as Gwyn clenched around him, using her strength to pull him even closer.

"Azriel," she moaned against his lips as he hit that special spot within her walls that had stars exploding behind her eyelids.

"Gods, when you say my name like that…," he growled, nipping on her earlobe.

His wings unfurled behind him seemingly on their own accord and Gwyn gasped at their size and beauty before she found herself arching up into him even more. He groaned into her neck, his own restraint shattering along with hers and began pounding into her with a fervor that had them both gasping for air within minutes.

"Touch them, Gwyn," he panted out between thrusts,"I know you want to."

Azriel saw the hesitation in her eyes and leaned down to capture her lips in a sweet agonizing kiss. "I want you to."

His expression turned darker as he guided her hands to his wings.

"Touch my wings while I'm inside you," he commanded.

Damn why was this side of him so intoxicating.

Her hands ventured upwards, reverently caressing the sensitive membranes with gentle strokes. Feeling a fire igniting within her at the thought of pleasing him in this way. Azriel groaned, his thrusts becoming even more erratic.

Her fingers glided slowly along the intricate patterns of muscle and sinew that lay beneath the skin, before moving to the spot where they connected to his back.

His muscles tensed beneath her touch, and he growled low in his throat."More."

Emboldened by his encouragement, Gwyn gripped him tighter, using her nails to rake lightly along the edge of his wing.

"Yes," he hissed through gritted teeth, "there. Fuck, right there."

He cried out as she circled her nails slightly deeper around the base of one wingtip before repeating the action on the other side.

This was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. The combination of her tight heat and the way she was touching him …

… it sent him spiraling over the edge into an abyss of pleasure so deep he couldn't find air to breathe.

His hips pistoned faster, grinding against her core with a wild abandonment, his cock swelling even more within her.

Gwyn could only hold onto him tightly, as he fucked her mercilessly.

The sensation of him filling every part of her was so indescribably good, that she was screaming his name soon after, as she came undone around him; her inner walls clenching around his thick length.

Azriel slammed into her one last time before he came with a roar. His cock twitched uncontrollably and spilled hot and thick within her core.

His wings spread wide as he collapsed atop her, their panting breaths intermingling in the stillness of the room.

Gwyn's heart raced against his chest, her fingers tangled in his dark locks as they both tried to catch their breath.

"I..I'..," she panted out between gasps of air, "That was.."

Azriel smiled against her neck, nipping at her skin lightly before pulling back to look at her flushed face.

"Utterly mind-blowing," he finished for her, a smug grin on his lips.

"Well, I guess we can cross wing play off your bucket list now huh?" He teased.

Gwyn blushed a pretty shade of pink and hit him on the chest.

"Shut up," she growled.

Azriel nuzzled into her neck, breathing in her intoxicating scent as his hands traced lazy patterns on her bare skin.

"Well, I couldn’t let you keep thinking of Cassian when it came to it,"he said lazily, while nipping at the tender flesh of her throat.

Gwyn shivered, running her fingers through his silken hair. "Is that what this is about? Jealousy?" she teased, though her voice was breathless.

Azriel growled again, biting down on her neck once more. "You're mine," he claimed fiercely; possessive. His hands roamed over her body again, unable to get enough of her soft skin.

"I know," Gwyn muttered, tilting her head back to give him better access. She stroked his wings gently. "I only ever want you."

Her words soothed the primal, territorial part of him and Azriel nuzzled into her, rumbling contentedly. Eventually he lifted his head to capture her lips in a searing kiss, pouring all his passion and love into it.

When they finally broke apart, both breathless, Azriel rested his forehead against hers. "I never want this to end," he confessed softly.

Gwyn's eyes shone with emotion. "It doesn't have to," she whispered.

Azriel's heart swelled.

"I love you so much," he murmured.

Gwyn beamed back at him, affectionately running her fingers through his disheveled hair. "And I love you."

Azriel let out a shuddering breath, overwhelmed by the joy and peace that washed over him. He kissed her again, deeply and unhurriedly, thinking that they had all the time in the world to explore this new chapter together.

Chapter Text

Azriel tried to focus on the movements of his trainees, but today his mind and senses seemed elsewhere.

For half an hour, his gaze had been periodically drifting to Cassian and the girls on the other side of the ring.

He had observed as they tried to implement a new technique that Cassian had shown them earlier, and it was clear they were struggling with it.

Gwyn's movements were fluid and graceful, but lacked the necessary power behind them.

Emerie, on the other hand, possessed the strength but struggled with coordination, her wings occasionally getting in her way.

Nesta seemed to have issues with her balance.

The more they tried and failed, the more frustration built up within them, and Azriel had trouble ignoring it.

He silently willed Cassian to notice, to correct their wrong movements, but his brother appeared oblivious, focused only on demonstrating the technique one more time.

"Again," Cassian barked, sweat glistening on his brow as he effortlessly executed the move. "Focus on your footing and keep your balance."

Azriel flinched. How about if you show them how, brother...

"Come on," Cassian barked, "you need to put more force into your swing!" His voice was gruff.

Nesta gritted her teeth, willing herself not to snap back at him.

Azriel hesitated for a moment, glancing at his own trainees who were diligently practicing their drills. They deserved his full attention, but the frustration emanating from Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta was too much to bare.

"Take a break," he instructed his trainees, his voice soft yet firm. "I'll be back shortly."

With that, Azriel crossed the training field, his long strides bringing him to Cassian and the girls in mere seconds. As he approached, he caught the sheen of sweat on their brows.

"May I offer some advice?" Azriel asked, his golden-brown eyes meeting Cassian's with sincerity.

Cassian's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Go ahead."

"Your methods are perfect for Illyrian warriors, but the girls... they're no brutes. Nor do they all have wings. They each have unique strengths and weaknesses, and I think your training could benefit from a touch more sensitivity."

Cassian snorted, crossing his massive arms over his chest. "They won the bloodrite, didn't they? My training can't be that bad."

Azriel sighed, shaking his head. "I never said it was bad, Cassian. But there's always room for improvement. And right now, they're struggling under the weight of your expectations."

The air between the two brothers turned electric. Emerie, Gwyn and Nesta sensed the tension, and paused, their eyes flicking between Azriel and Cassian.

"Fine," Cassian relented, the word coming out like a growl. "Show me what you mean.“

He moved to Gwyn first, his shadows curling in welcome around her. "May I?" he asked. At her nod, he gently grasped her sword arm, adjusting her grip, and used his other hand to guide her body through the move. Gwyn beamed up at him when she executed it perfectly. Azriel's heart stuttered at her radiant smile.

"There," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the rustle of his wings. "That's better. Now you can swing with more force.“

He went to Emerie next, softly encouraging her to widen her stance, to even out the weight of her wings. He bent down and placed his hands on her ankles, guiding them into the correct position. Her next attempt was much improved.

Finally, he turned his attention to Nesta, who was watching him closely. "You're overcompensating for your left side," he observed. He gently adjusted her stance, ensuring her weight was distributed evenly between both legs."Try to not put too much on the right side. It brings you out of balance."

"Thank you," Nesta murmured, her eyes meeting Azriel's with a soft gratitude.

Cassian watched sullenly as the girls performed the technique with newfound fluidity. "So you think you're a better teacher than me?" he challenged Azriel.

Azriel huffed a laugh. "It's not about that, brother. I only want to help them progress."

He clapped Cassian on the shoulder, hoping to diffuse the tension. But Cassian's competitive nature flared. "Let's settle this the good ol’ Illyrian way. Let's have two of our trainees fight against each other."

Azriel sighed deeply. "Alright. But only because I believe this could be a valuable learning experience for all of us.” He lifted his brows, staring the other Illyrian down.

"Good," Cassian grinned. His gaze landing on Emerie. “Would you do me the honor?"

Emerie nodded.

Azriel didn't hesitate. "I choose Gwyn." Her name left his tongue like a prayer.

Cassian interjected. "Hold on. Gwyn's my trainee, not yours."

Azriel turned to his brother, shadows swirling in irritation. "I've worked with her far more than you have."

Cassian bristled at the accusation. “More than our regular group trainings?“

“Yes. Almost every other night, when I wasn’t on duty. I had to correct her stance and footwork many times, after you were too busy making eyes at Nesta,“ Azriel claimed, keeping his tone even.

Gwyn shifted uncomfortably at being discussed like she wasn't present. Emerie gave her hand a subtle, reassuring squeeze.

Cassian scowled, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "Fine."

Azriel inclined his head in thanks, then focused on the two females. "Whenever you're ready, begin."

Gwyn and Emerie circled each other slowly, wooden swords raised. They exchanged a few testing strikes, blocks, and parries, quickly falling into an even rhythm.

Azriel watched Gwyn closely, pride swelling in his chest as she executed the moves he'd taught her flawlessly. Her technique was excellent, footwork light and agile. Emerie fought well but Gwyn's skill was obvious.

After a few more exchanges Emerie misstepped, and Gwyn swept her legs out from under her. Emerie yielded with a laugh, allowing Gwyn to help her up.

"Well done," Gwyn said sincerely, and Emerie echoed the praise. Azriel applauded them both, shadows curling in delight.

Cassian, however, was not quite as accepting of the outcome. "I want a rematch."

Azriel sighed. "Accept your defeat gracefully, brother."

Gwyn's eyes widened as she glanced between Cassian and Azriel "That's not fair," she protested, still catching her breath.

"Then consider it a test," Cassian countered, his voice firm but not unkind. "I want to see how far Azriel's one-on-one training has gotten you."

"Nesta." Cassian called out. “Your turn."

Azriel growled, a low dangerous sound. Gwyn met his gaze, silently pleading with him not to intervene.

Azriel's jaw tightened but he remained still, shadows twisting violently around him.

Gwyn took a deep breath and faced Nesta, raising her sword. Nesta did the same, her eyes apologetic.

Their swords met with a sharp crack, the sound of wood striking wood filling the air as they began their dance of combat. Gwyn moved with a grace born of countless hours spent practicing with Azriel, her footwork light and quick despite her fatigue. Nesta, on the other hand, wielded her sword with a raw power that was equally matched by her fierce determination.

"Your form is still excellent," Nesta remarked through gritted teeth as they exchanged strikes. "Azriel's training seems to have paid off."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Gwyn replied, panting as she parried another blow. "But don't think I'll go easy on you just because we're friends."

“Neither will I.“ Nesta pressed harder, her attacks coming faster and more powerful than before. Gwyn found herself backed into a corner, her tired muscles screaming in protest as she fought to keep up.

With a final surge of effort, Gwyn managed to push Nesta back, using the momentum to launch a counterattack of her own. She knocked Nesta’s sword right from her fingers, pointing her own at her throat.

"Yield," Gwyn said gently.

Nesta nodded, sucking in gulps of air. Azriel smirked while Cassian seethed, fists clenched. But one look from Nesta kept him in place.

She pulled Gwyn into a quick, fierce hug. "You fought well," she murmured.

"I want a rematch tomorrow," Cassian insisted.

Azriel cut in, his voice low and final. “Forget it. They all performed admirably."

Gwyn looked over to him, to find open pride and admiration shining in his eyes.

Driven by impulse, Gwyn closed the distance between them and jumped into his arms, squeaking in delight, as his strong arms enveloped her.

"Whoa there!" Azriel laughed, his golden-brown skin glowing with happiness as he spun her around gently.

Gwyn buried her face in the crook of his neck. She inhaled his scent – a mixture of leather and pine, with the faintest hint of cinnamon – and allowed herself to bask in the warmth of his affection.

"Get a room, you two," Nesta teased, though her smile betrayed the fondness she felt for the pair.

Emerie swatted her shoulder with a laugh. "Oh leave them be, they're sweet."

Azriel just shot them a mild look over Gwyn's head, eyes glinting, utterly unrepentant.

———

Gwyn hummed softly to herself as she organized the books in the library, her fingers trailing over the leather spines as she slotted each tome into its proper place. Normally, if not given as a punishment by Merrill, she found the task soothing.

She was so focused on her work that she didn't hear the near-silent footsteps approaching until Ananake spoke. "That was quite the show you put on earlier."

Gwyn started, spinning to find the female standing closely next to her, an inscrutable smile playing about her lips. "Oh, I didn't see you there."

"My apologies, I didn't mean to startle you." Ananke inclined her head. "I saw your match against Nesta. Impressive work."

"Thank you." Gwyn glanced down, feeling suddenly self-conscious. She busied her hands with straightening a stack of books. "Nesta is a strong opponent. I barely bested her."

"But you did best her, and after already facing Emerie as well." Ananke's smile turned coy. "I heard you've been training with the Shadowsinger. He's taught you well, it seems."

"He's a good teacher," - and not just in the ring- Gwyn hedged, keeping her tone carefully neutral.

"I'll bet." Ananke gave her a knowing look. "Tell me...what's it like? I imagine he must be quite intense."

Gwyn bit her lip, debating how to respond. She settled on a half-truth. "Azriel is very focused during training. He pushes me hard, but he's patient too. I've learned a lot from him."

She turned her attention back to the bookshelf, hoping Ananke would let the subject drop. But it seemed Gwyn was out of luck.

"Does he give private lessons to anyone else?"

Gwyn tensed, fingers curling into the shelf as she traced the spines of the books. A strange, unpleasant feeling unfurled in her chest at the question. She realized with a start that it was jealousy, sharp and burning.

"I...I don't know," she said carefully, keeping her tone neutral despite the sudden storm in her heart. Did Azriel spend this kind of time with other females, guiding them patiently through stances and forms? The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. But when really? These days he spend every second of his free time with her.

Ananke seemed oblivious to Gwyn's inner turmoil. "Hmm. Do you think he would train me too if I asked?"

Gwyn's jaw tightened, fingers digging into the wood of the shelf. The image of Azriel's hands gently correcting Ananke's form, his voice a soft caress at her ear, made Gwyn's stomach churn. She wanted to scream that Azriel was hers.

But she mastered herself, schooling her features into indifference. "You'd have to ask him yourself," she said lightly, turning to offer Ananke a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

It was a diplomatic response, despite the envy raging inside her. Gwyn turned back to the bookshelf, pretending to peruse the titles while she reined in her emotions. She would not reveal how much the idea of Azriel training Ananke bothered her. Some things were better left unsaid.

"I suppose I shall," Ananake said lightly. "It could be...educational."

Gwyn's fingers tightened on the book in her hand at the insinuation in the other female's voice, leather creaking under the pressure. With effort, she kept her own tone casual.

"Well, I should get back to my work. Let me know if you need help with anything else."

With a sly smile, Ananake bid her goodbyes . The moment she was gone, Gwyn sagged against the shelf, pressing a hand to her churning stomach. She knew it was irrational, but the thought of Azriel training Ananake as he had trained her left her gutted. She wanted to keep this closeness between them for herself, though she knew she had no right.

After a good while Gwyn had finally managed to stack the last book, despite the unwanted thoughts that had haunted her ever since Ananake came to talk to her.

Exhaustion clouded her senses like a heavy fog. It was perhaps this weariness that prevented her from noticing the shadows that began to coil and dance around her feet. She didn't sense their presence until strong arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her swiftly into a dark corner hidden from prying eyes – not that there were many left in the library at this late hour.

"Wha—?" she started, but the whispered words died on her lips as she felt the unmistakable texture of Azriels hands brush over her mouth, covering it up. And soon after, his familiar scent enveloped her.

"Shh," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "We don’t want to rouse any attention, do we?"

Her heart raced as she nodded.

"You were incredible today during training," he murmured, sending shivers down her spine. "Emerie and Nesta didn't stand a chance."

Gwyn felt a blush bloom on her cheeks, her chest swelling at his praise. She leaned into him, craving more of his words and touch.

"Your footwork has improved immensely," he obliged, his voice a velvety caress. "And your strikes... precise and deadly. When you faced Nesta, I knew you'd come out victorious, eventhough you were tired."

Her exhaustion now seemed to have vanished, replaced by an intoxicating mix of desire and affection.

"You've become a formidable fighter, Gwyn. I'm honored to have been a part of your journey."

Azriel's body pressed flush against Gwyn's back, the heat of their connection radiating through their clothes. His lips found her neck, nuzzling the sensitive skin before tenderly kissing the spot he had bitten into only days ago. The memory of that night made her knees weak, and she melted into him, relishing the feeling of his strong arms around her.

She felt his chest rumble with a suppressed moan when the curve of her buttocks brushed against the hard spot between his legs. She reveled in the sensation, intoxicated by the power she held over him.

In a bold move, Gwyn bit into the hand still clutched over her mouth. Azriel let out a surprised noise, pain and pleasure mingling.

"Didn't you say something about being quiet?" she teased, her voice barely above a whisper, as she turned around.

He huffed a soft laugh, the sound like velvet brushing against her skin. "Like always you play dirty, priestess." His eyes were dark with desire when they met hers. In response, wetness pooled between her legs.

"Only when I'm provoked," she whispered, her eyes locked on his full lips. "And you, Shadowsinger, are quite skilled at provoking me."

Azriel smirked, and Gwyn could see the heat flare in his eyes. She dugg her nails into his leathers and pressed him into the nearby bookshelf. Her lips met his in a wild and heated kiss, tongues dancing together as if they hadn’t only done this a few hours ago.

"Have you thought about this?" Azriel growled between kisses, his hands gripping her waist, his thumbs tracing circles on her. "To have me backed against a wall, at your mercy?"

"Perhaps," Gwyn breathed, her fingers tangling into his dark hair. "Or maybe I simply wanted to show you that I'm not afraid to take what I want."

Azriel's breath caught. "And what is it that you want?" he whispered, his voice low and rough.

Gwyn held his heated gaze unflinchingly. "I think that's quite obvious, don't you?"

Before Azriel could respond, she took his hand and led him swiftly from the library to a secluded study down the hall. Closing the door behind them with a soft click, she guided him to the high-backed chair at the desk.

"Sit," she commanded, though her voice trembled slightly with nervous excitement.

Azriel complied wordlessly, his eyes never leaving hers. Slowly, tantalizingly, Gwyn began to remove her robe, letting it fall to the floor until she stood before him in only her underwear. Azriel's throat went dry at the sight, desire coursing wildly through his veins.

Gwyn stepped between his legs, running her fingers along his jaw. "All I can think about is you. The way you feel, the way you sound and the way you taste," she confessed. "But I need to know...do you want me too?"

In answer, Azriel pulled her down onto his lap. His hands caressed her bare skin as his mouth found hers again, kissing her deeply. Gwyn sighed into the kiss, feeling as though she were coming home.

When they finally broke for air, panting, Azriel nuzzled her neck, inhaling her sweet scent.

"Does this answer your question?" he rasped. His hands slid lower, gripping her backside as he ground against her. The evidence of his desire was unmistakable.

Gwyn's whole body trembled."Yes," she gasped, her voice thick with need.

"That you even have to ask..." Azriel growled, his breath hot against her skin. "I thought I made it abundantly clear that I want you... always."

He trailed kisses down her neck, igniting every nerve in her body. Gwyn moaned and arched her back.

"Maybe you weren't as thorough as you thought, Shadowsinger," she managed to say between ragged breaths.

"I guess I'll just have to try harder then," he responded, his voice dripping with seduction. Gwyn could only nod, while her mind was clouded with overwhelming desire for him.

Azriel's hands glided up her thighs, fingers splaying over the lace of her underwear, his touch feather-light yet searing hot. Gwyn bit her lip as he traced patterns on her skin.

"You have no idea how often I've pictured you on top of me," he confessed, his voice low and gravelly.

"Oh, really?" Gwyn purred, boldly running her fingertips teasingly up his chest, grazing over the hard planes of his abs, although he was still fully dressed. "Tell me, Shadowsinger... what else has been going through that mind of yours?"

Azriel's lips curved into a smile as he looked up at her. "The most twisted thing," he began, his voice low and husky, "is how my entire day revolves around the sight of your smile. Without it, I can't even breathe properly."

Gwyn's heart skipped a beat at his words. This was not the direction she had expected this conversation to take.

"Is that so?" Gwyn replied with trembling voice.

Azriel nodded, his hands still caressing her through her underwear.

Gwyn leaned in closer to him, their lips almost touching. "I'll have to make sure to give you plenty of smiles then," she whispered before closing the small space between them and capturing his lips in a gentle kiss.

"Do you want to hear the most twisted thing about me?" She breathed into his ear, her teeth sinking into his lobe with a bite that sent shivers down his spine.

His breaths came in ragged gasps as he begged for more. "Yes," he rasped out.

Quivering with anticipation, she reached down and ripped at the laces of his pants with a frenzied hand.

Azriel let out a guttural growl as she grasped him, squeezing with an intoxicating force.

"I am nothing without you," she whispered, her gaze flashing with an emotion that Azriel couldn't quite pinpoint.

There was a past version of him, that would have been delighted at these words. But now they caused an unsettling feeling deep within him.

Gently, he pulled away from her grip to look at her. His wings twitched with agitation as he held her trembling hands in his own.

"No, Gwyn. That's not true," he said with a catch in his voice. "You are everything and more without me."

Gwyn blinked. "I only survived because you saved me. I became the warrior I am because of your training, and you helped me overcome my past."

Her words only tightened the knot of pain in Azriel's chest. “You did that on your own. If it wouldn’t have been me there would have been someone else eventually. None of this has anything to do with me .”

But that wasn’t true, was it? Azriel had always known exactly how to treat her right. Had - intentionally or not - always left her enough room to breathe and determine the move she wanted to do next.

He paused to fully face her, his hands tenderly cupping her face. His thumbs trailed over her cheeks as his shadows enveloped them in a protective cocoon.

"Listen closely," he said, his hazel eyes searching hers intently, "what happened that day wasn't your fault. You saved these children, you fought, all on your own. You were already strong."

Tears began welling as she choked out broken words. "But if you hadn't been there, if you hadn't saved me..."

Azriel shook his head, his expression serious. "I helped you escape further harm. But everything you achieved after - your training, your healing - that was all you, Gwyn. You took back your power, your strength. You have shown resilience and courage beyond measure. You inspire me everyday."

Gwyn let out a shuddering breath, overcome with emotion. Azriel leaned in, resting his forehead against hers, their noses just barely touching.

"You owe me nothing," he murmured. "It is I who am in awe of you."

Gwyn closed her eyes, letting his words wash over her like a soothing balm. When she opened them again, Azriel was looking at her with such tenderness, she thought her heart might burst. Unable to resist any longer, she pressed her lips to his in a searing kiss, twining her fingers through his inky locks.

Azriel returned her kiss at first, his body responding instinctively to her touch. But after a moment, he gently pulled back, breaking the contact between them again.

"Gwyn," he said softly, his voice rough with emotion and restraint. "We need to talk about this."

Confusion clouded her face. "About what?"

Azriel took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I don't want you to feel obligated to be with me physically because of what happened between us in the past. I would never want that."

Understanding dawned in her eyes. "Azriel, no. That's not why..."

He held up a hand. "Please, let me say this."

She nodded, waiting for him to continue.

"What happened in Sangravah was horrific. I wish with all my heart I could have prevented it. But I have never once thought you owed me anything for getting you out of there. Not your friendship, your trust, and certainly not your body."

Gwyn opened her mouth to protest, but Azriel barreled on.

"I care about you, Gwyn. More than I can put into words. And I want to be with you… in every way. But only if it's what you truly want, without obligation or guilt. I also told you I could wait. That I would give you all the time in the world." His gaze was piercing in its sincerity. "You deserve that. You deserve everything."

Gwyn's mind raced as she struggled to comprehend the sudden shift in mood.

"Azriel," she said fiercely. "I want this. I want you. Not out of any obligation." Gwyn framed his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her earnest gaze. "And I choose you because of who you are. Your strength, your kindness, the way you let me be me. I am here because I want to be, because my heart calls out for yours."

She brushed her thumb over his cheekbone, wiping away the lone tear that slipped free. "I think I've loved you from the moment you first made me laugh during training, though it took me a long time to realize what these feelings were."

Azriel smiled at her tentatively.

"Still," he rasped. "you must understand that you don’t need me to feel whole. You already are...if anything ever happened to me-"

She placed a finger over his lips. "Nothing will happen to you. We will have a long and happy life together."

Azriel's expression turned solemn. "You can't know that for certain. Please, just promise me… promise that you'll move on and find happiness again."

Gwyn's chest constricted at the thought of a life without him in it. But the quiet desperation in his eyes broke her resolve.

"I promise," she choked out, her voice barely audible.

She pressed herself against his chest, desperate for the comfort and safety it provided.

And as she listened to the steady beat of his heart, each thump reminding her of what she could lose, she sent a silent prayer to the Mother that she would never have to fulfill such a terrible vow.

Because deep down, she knew she couldn’t.

Chapter Text

Azriel leaned casually against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. A small smile played on his lips as he watched Cassian chase a squealing Nyx around the lounge. The toddler's gleeful laughter filled the air as Nesta scooped him up and spun him around.

"My my, parenthood looks good on you two," Azriel remarked, a hint of a smile on his lips.

Cassian's lips twitched into a mischievous grin as Nesta shot him a stern glare. "Watch it, Shadowsinger," she warned. "You never know when you might find yourself in the same position."

Azriel's mind automatically wandered to the reason he was here so early - Gwyn.

It had been nearly two hours since he had brought her to the Riverhouse to train with Rhys, alone this time. Even though the High Lord had given his word to behave, Az had only reluctantly given in. Only after Gwyn had reassured him she'd be fine.

He had seen firsthand how devastated Gwyn was after their first attempts at summoning her power, how draining it could become, and he desperately wanted to shield her from any further unease.

But he also understood that this was Gwyn's journey, and growth often came with its own share of suffering; he knew that all too well. She was strong, stronger than most gave her credit for. So he swallowed his concerns, hoping that however it was going, she could handle it. And if it indeed was not going well, he would be there for her afterward, distracting her as best as he could.

His train of thought was interrupted by Feyre entering the room and scooping Nyx up from where he played on the floor with his aunt and uncle.

"Come on. Dinner's almost ready," she called over her shoulder, carrying the giggling baby toward the dining room.

Nesta allowed Cassian to pull her to her feet, and the three of them followed silently.

Azriel sat in his usual spot across from Cassian and Nesta, who would be flanked by Gwyn and then Emerie once they arrived. The seats for Mor and Amren remained empty as well, and so did Rhysand's, as Elain and Feyre sat down at the head of the table.

The Shadowsinger's fingers tapped idly against the polished wood of the table, his shadows curling around him tightly. He barely registered the conversations around him, too focused on counting the minutes before seeing Gwyn again.

Cassian, though, had his eyes on him and watched with open amusement, wondering when the Spymaster of the Night Court had developed a nervous habit?

The tapping stopped immediately as the double doors on the far side of the room swung open, and the High Lord strode through.

Trailing behind him, Gwyn seemed to exude a radiant aura that pulsated with pure joy. She and Rhys shared a private joke, their laughter carrying softly through the air. As they approached, her eyes locked onto his, and he felt his heart skip a beat before racing twice as fast at the sight of her dazzling smile.

The training session must have gone well then. Involuntarily, he mirrored her smile, unable to resist the infectious happiness she emanated.

Cassian keenly observed the shift in his brother's demeanor and lightly nudged Nesta in the ribs, a sly twinkle in his eye. Her perfectly shaped eyebrow lifted, the corners of her mouth turning upward in a faint smirk.

Meanwhile, Rhysand and Gwyn engaged in an animated conversation as they circled around the table.

As Gwyn breezed past him, Azriel's hand shot out with a swift, almost predatory motion, wrapping around her wrist, which caused Gwyn to let out a surprised squeal. She turned to face him, finding his intense gaze already fixed on her.

The sudden sound caught Rhysand's attention, and he equally turned to look at the source of the interruption. When he saw his Spymaster holding onto the Priestess, a smug grin began spreading across his face.

"We can continue later," Gwyn said with a hint of breathlessness as her cheeks flushed with color.

"Very well," Rhysand conceded, giving Azriel a pointed look before making his way to his seat at the head of the table.

In a swift, surprising motion, Azriel yanked Gwyn down into the vacant seat next to him. Gwyn let out a scolding gasp and attempted to swat his hands away, but her efforts were half-hearted at best.

"Azriel!" she reprimanded, her cheeks flushing with both frustration and amusement. "You could have at least asked first if I wanted to sit with you."

"This is me asking," Azriel declared, his voice equally breathless as he spoke. The intensity of his gaze bore into Gwyn, leaving her feeling lightheaded and weak at the knees.

"I can't think straight when you are away," he continued, a hint of desperation creeping into his tone.

A smile spread across Gwyn's face at his words, amused and touched by his sudden possessiveness.

"But I was only in the other room," She leaned into him playfully, enjoying the rare display of affection from the usually reserved male.

"Still too far," he grunted, his eyes simmering as he gazed down at her.

Gwyn shook her head with a chuckle. "You're being silly," she chided him lightly. "What's gotten into you?"

"I just...need you near me," he murmured, his voice low and husky. The shadows seemed to dance and writhe around them as he wrapped an arm around Gwyn's waist, pulling her closer.

Suppressing another squeak, Gwyn nervously glanced around the room as Azriel's face drew closer. His nose almost grazed her neck as he inhaled deeply.

"Az, your family is watching," she whispered, her face flushing.

Azriel's eyes darkened, undeterred. "I know." His voice was rough, almost guttural, as he struggled to restrain himself." But you smell so good. Like starlight and honey."

Gwyn's eyes widened. It had to be her magic; he probably smelt its lingering scent. And it had a certain effect on him.

She shifted in her seat, pressing her own thighs together, suddenly very aware of the rising evidence of Azriel's arousal.

"Az..." Her voice was low, commanding his attention.

"Control yourself," but her core clenched even as she chastised him.

Azriel's warm hand found Gwyn's knee, his fingers gently squeezing as he gazed at her with open hunger.

"I can't help it, Gwyn. Your scent makes me want to toss you over my shoulder and find the nearest private room." His pupils were blown wide, fixed on her mouth.

Was he going feral? In the middle of the dining room in front of his entire family? She couldn't let that happen.

Determined to stop this before it escalated any further, she discreetly kicked Azriel's shin under the table with all her might, hoping the pain would be enough to snap him out of it. "Behave."

Azriel winced, pulling away from her with a pained expression.

"Ouch," he gritted out through clenched teeth, his neck muscles tensing with effort. "I'm trying."

"What exactly is going on over there?" Nesta asked loudly, one eyebrow raised.

Azriel jumped, startled out of his intense focus on Gwyn. He quickly removed his hand from her knee and sat up straight.

"Uh, nothing," he mumbled, a faint blush rising on his cheeks.

Gwyn bit her lip to hide her smile. It wasn't often that the reserved Shadowsinger was caught off guard, but it was always entertaining when he was.

"That didn't look like nothing," Cassian said with a smirk.

Gwyn couldn't resist teasing Azriel either. "You weren't exactly subtle," she murmured.

Azriel cleared his throat, trying to think of a convincing lie. "I was just telling Gwyn about a new fighting technique I read about," he said, attempting to sound casual.

Cassian raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? What's it called?" he asked smugly, clearly trying to call Azriel's bluff.

"Um... it's called..." Azriel stammered, scrambling for a made-up name.

Gwyn bit her lip, barely containing her amusement at seeing him so flustered.

"How you became Spymaster is beyond me," she muttered under her breath.

Azriel shot her an offended look. "Hey!"

He sat up straighter, desperately trying to find a way out of this awkward situation. But Gwyn's intoxicating scent lingered in the air, clouding his thoughts and making concentrating difficult. And he couldn't help but wonder what kind of magic this was, making it impossible for him to be without her, yet equally difficult when she was in such close proximity.

Before Azriel could dig himself deeper into the hole, the door to the dining room suddenly swung open, saving him from further embarrassment, in walked Mor and Emerie back from their day out shopping.

Mor paused, clearly surprised to see someone sitting in her usual seat at the table. She eyed Azriel and Gwyn suspiciously. "Did we miss something?"

Azriel shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. "I needed to discuss some training matters with Gwyn."

Emerie's sharp eyes darted between the Spymaster and the Priestess, a small smile playing on her lips.

Cassian, who sat on the opposite side of the table, let out a muffled chuckle. "So he says. What was that technique called again?" Azriel shot him a warning glare.

"Hmm, I see," Mor replied but chose not to press further.

Instead, her eyes flickered towards Emerie, who was now patting the empty seat next to her. Azriel knew that it was probably because she did enjoy this little switch-up, too.

Amren filtered in soon after, taking the empty seat next to Gwyn. As everyone had settled into their spots, servants appeared with heaping platters of food. The table came alive with the clink of silverware and the hum of multiple conversations.

Next to Azriel, Amren engaged Gwyn in a conversation.

She leaned in close, her voice low and secretive. "So, Gwyn," she began, "tell me more about how you've been honing your powers."

"Rhysand has been helping me a lot," Gwyn replied. "I seem to channel them better with emotions. It's not easy, but I'm getting better at it."

Azriel watched Gwyn intently as she spoke with Amren, relishing the chance to simply observe her.

"Fascinating," Amren murmured, a sly grin on her lips. "I can't wait to see it myself."

Azriel tried to focus on his food, but his eyes drifted back to Gwyn. The way she gestured animatedly as she spoke to Amren, the excited gleam in her eyes when discussing her powers, the stray wisps of hair that had escaped her braid and now framed her face was hopelessly distracting.

"So training went well today?" Azriel finally asked. "I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier."

Gwyn's face lit up at the question, her eyes shining excitedly as she told him about her progress.

"It went so well! Rhys suggested using powerful memories to better tap into my power, which worked! I can connect with it much more easily now."

He couldn't help but wonder what memories fueled her magic and if any of them involved him. However, he didn't want to pry.

Azriel's voice was filled with deep admiration as he spoke, "I'm so proud of you," he said earnestly, giving her a quick squeeze. "You've come so far."

Gwyn's cheeks flushed at the praise. She leaned into him, just a fraction, but he noticed their thighs pressing together under the table.

For a fleeting moment, nothing else mattered but her warmth against his. Azriel's breath caught at the adoration in her bright eyes, and he lost himself in their depths.

He fought the urge to reach out and touch Gwyn's face, trace the constellations of freckles across her cheeks, tuck back this stubborn strand of hair that had come to lay too close to her left eye, and run his thumb over her bottom lip.

Amren's sharp eyes followed the exchange with great interest, one eyebrow raised, but she did not say a word.

Before Azriel could act on his longing, Nesta jolted him back to reality.

"Is there any news from Devlon?" her voice cut through the air, immediately drawing everyone's attention.

The atmosphere in the room tensed immediately, the lighthearted mood evaporating like morning mist beneath the sun. Rhysand's eyes narrowed, and he leaned forward. "Nesta raises a valid concern," he admitted his voice tight with restrained frustration.

"There is indeed no new information. But with the potential rebellion brewing, we must strengthen our alliances and keep a close eye on any developments in the Illyrian camps."

Azriel could see the concern etched into the lines of his brother's face, and he knew that the High Lord was not one to take such matters lightly. The safety of their people and their family weighed heavily on his mind, and Azriel shared that burden he always had.

"Which reminds me. Azriel," Rhysand said, drawing the Shadowsinger's attention back to the matter at hand. "Princess Cresseida from the Summer Court will be visiting Velaris soon."

A puzzled frown creased Azriel's brow. Why was he being informed about this?

"What does that have to do with me?" Azriel asked, unable to keep the curiosity from lacing his words. His shadows whispered against his skin, echoing his confusion.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair." I thought you could show her around the city and make her feel welcome," he said.

Azriel's confusion deepened, a flicker of unease gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. The shadows around him seemed to sense it, too, trembling as if disturbed by an unseen force. What was Rhysand trying to achieve with this suggestion? And why did he feel an inexplicable sense of dread settling in the pit of his stomach?

His eyes strayed once more to Gwyn, who equally seemed confused and out of place. The thought of being tasked with entertaining another woman left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could already feel the tendrils of guilt beginning to coil within him, threatening to choke the very breath from his lungs.

"Rhys," Azriel began, his voice barely audible above the din of conversation. "I don't think I'm the right person for this."

"Since Cassian and I are both mated," Rhysand continued, "we can't be seen with her in that manner. You, however, are perfectly suited for the task."

Azriel's confusion only deepened. "Why not take your mates along then. I don't see why it has to be me."

"Because you are charming," Rhysand urged, his voice smooth as silk. "A pretty face and good behavior have always been something she favors. And you, my friend, possess both in abundance."

His heart stilled, an icy grip tightened around it as he considered Rhysand's words. Surely, he didn't mean for Azriel to seduce her.

"No," Azriel interjected, his voice carefully controlled despite the tempest raging within him.

"Come now, Az," Rhysand replied, a mischievous glint dancing in his violet eyes. "Cresseida is very beautiful. Others would feel honored."

The shadows around him seemed to coil tighter as he felt Gwyn's unease grow. Same, he thought.

He repeated himself firmly, "I said no. You can't expect me to... No, I cannot."

"Can't?" echoed Rhysand, raising an eyebrow. "Or won't?"

Azriel hesitated, his hands clenching into fists at his side.

"Both," he finally replied, his voice low and unwavering. "I can't, and I won't."

"Why?" Rhysand mused, his gaze never leaving his brother's face.

Azriel's dark eyes narrowed with contemplation, his expression a mask of deep thought. Every muscle in his body seemed to tense as he carefully considered his response. Finally, he spoke with unwavering certainty, each word dripping with resolve and determination. "Because I am a taken male, too."

His declaration hung heavy in the air, a sudden silence enveloping the room as all eyes turned to him. Azriel could feel the weight of their gazes, but he feared Gwyn's reaction the most.

Slowly, he reached for her hand and lightly caressed her skin before bringing it to his lips and placing a gentle kiss on her palm.

For a long moment, no one moved or spoke.

A victorious grin split Cassian's face as he leaned back in his chair, breaking the silence with a "I knew it."

Nesta nodded in agreement, her eyes alight with triumph.

"Oh, what a surprise," Emerie said flatly, clearly not surprised at all.

Rhysand only watched with a touch of mischief in his eyes, clearly enjoying the unfolding drama.

Mor smiled brightly, "I'm so happy for you," she said, her voice warm and sincere. "For both of you."

She turned her gaze to Gwyn, who remained silent beside him. "I've never seen Az like this before.

It's like he's a different person. I can see how much he cares for you, how happy you make him."

"Congratulations," Feyre chimed in, giving Azriel an approving nod. Elain echoed the sentiment.

Amren, ever the pragmatic one, tilted her head towards Gwyn, her silver eyes sharp and assessing. "Blink twice if you need help," she drawled, her tone dry but not unkind.

"Amren," Azriel chided, a hint of warning in his voice. "She's perfectly fine."

Yet as he looked over to Gwyn, noticing the tension in her shoulders and how she avoided his gaze, he realized with sinking dread that perhaps she wasn't.

He hadn't meant to put her on the spot like this, to tell his family about them without asking her first. But her certainly couldn't let Rhysand order him to entertain another woman either. Not when he was so utterly consumed by another. He had to fix this. I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice low so only she could hear. "I should have asked you first before announcing anything. Please forgive me?"

Her bright teal eyes found his, uncertainty and vulnerability swirling in their depths. Despite she did not let go of his hand, nor was she pulling away. Then, a warm and inviting smile spread across her face, and the tension in his chest eased. "It's fine," she whispered, her voice strong.

Gwyn glimpsed over to Elain, whose expression seemed serene and devoid of sorrow. It seemed enough to bolster her courage to turn to Nesta and meet the storm head-on.

"How long has this been going?" Nesta demanded with a finger raised in Gwyn's direction.

Azriel bristled, his protective instincts flaring. "That's none of your business."

"Like hell, it is," Nesta shot back, though genuine joy danced in her eyes. "Answer the question."

Gwyn hesitated for a moment, glancing between Azriel and Nesta before finally sighing. "Since the three weeks we have been gone… more or less."

A victorious, unrestrained laugh burst from Cassian's lips, his face alight with glee. "I had a feeling!"

Nesta scoffed in response, rolling her eyes. "You're such a little liar, Gwyneth."

Gwyn raised an eyebrow at her friend. "Can any of you really blame us?" she asked." Considering your reaction right now."

"Besides," Azriel chimed in, his voice low and steady, "it's not as if we were intentionally deceiving anyone. We simply wanted time to explore our feelings without an audience."

Cassian's laughter erupted like a sharp, barking sound, filling the air. He threw his arm around Nesta's shoulders, "Looks like you owe me five gold marks, sweetheart!"

He grinned at the rest of the group, entirely too smug. "Told you Az wasn't at Rosehall."

Nesta scowled, shrugging off his arm with annoyance. She crossed her arms over her chest in a defensive gesture. "You are insufferable," she huffed.

Mor and Emerie exchanged a knowing glance, sighing in unison at Cassian's gloating. A moment later, gold coins appeared in their hands, which they grudgingly handed over to Cassian.

Untypically for him, the general purred in satisfaction. "Thank you, darlings. It's been a pleasure doing business with you." He turned to Nesta with a wicked twinkle in his eye. "Ness, you can also pay me in physical services."

"Ew, Cassian. That's gross," Mor wrinkled her nose.

Gwyn's voice was filled with outrage. "You bet on us?"

Nesta let out a frustrated sigh. "Well, obviously we did. I thought you had already made a move on Solstice, Shadowsinger." It suddenly clicked for Gwyn. "Wait, that's why you were asking about how long..."

"Well, at least now you don't have to sneak into Az's room anymore," Cassian quipped, earning a playful punch from Nesta.

Gwyn felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she realized they had been aware of their secret for quite some time.

But despite the initial shock, a sense of undeniable rightness settled over her. No more hiding, no more sneaking around. They could finally be open about their feelings for each other.

She felt Azriel's warm hand wrap around hers under the table.

"Well," Rhysand drawled, "congratulations are in order." He lifted his glass in salute. "To Azriel and Gwyneth."

The others raised their glasses, echoing the toast. Gwyn's cheeks flushed deeper, unused to such attention, but she inclined her head in gratitude.

"Thank you," Azriel replied solemnly.

Though his voice remained calm and composed, Gwyn could feel the unmistakable joy radiating from him.

It filled the room with a vibrant energy that sparked a smile on Gwyn's face as well.

———

Later that night, she found herself deep in thought as they lay naked under Azriel's covers, sedated from their intense lovemaking.

She leaned her head against his shoulder, his wings automatically coming up around to cocoon them. She sighed in contentment, letting her eyes drift shut.

"Tired, my love?" Azriel's voice was a low rumble near her ear.

Gwyn hummed drowsily in response, not bothering to open her eyes.

But her mind kept drifting back to earlier that night, when she had retreated to the balcony of the Riverhouse for a moment of solitude, not letting her fall asleep yet.

****

Gwyn leaned against the stone railing and watched the Sidra shimmer in the moonlight. As she listened to the gentle lapping of the water, she heard soft footsteps approaching behind her. Turning, she was surprised to see Elain.

"Hello, Gwyn," Elain said warmly, coming to stand beside her at the railing.

"Hello, Elain," a small smile graced Gwyn's lips as she replied, the edges of her mouth quivering with nerves. She had always liked the seer, but ever since their big confession earlier, there was a constant flutter in her stomach. She couldn't help but wonder if Elain still harbored feelings for Az and if their open affection would wound her in any way.

"I came to tell you something," Elain drew in a steadying lungful of air before she pressed on. "When I saw how you looked at me earlier, I knew you must be worried about how I would feel."

Gwyn opened her mouth to respond, but Elain held up a hand. "I want you to know I am genuinely happy for you and Azriel. Truly." Elain smiled softly.

"He looks at you in a way he never looked at me. And the way you look at him..." She sighed deeply.

"I hope that someday I'll find something like you two have."

Gwyn reached out and grasped Elain's hand gently. "You will, I'm sure of it."

"Thank you for saying that," Elain gave her a small smile and continued. "I had a vision that Solstice… the night Azriel and I almost kissed …" The middle Archeron's sister immediately noticed Gwyn's widening eyes and reached out, placing a comforting hand on her arm. "I saw a glimpse of you too. In my vision, Azriel was gazing at you with so much love and devotion than I've ever seen from him. You were dressed in fine silks, dancing together under the stars. I saw how happy you made each other. That's why I gave the necklace back. I realized then that someone else was meant for him. It was always supposed to be you. I just didn't know who you were yet."

Tears pricked Gwyn's eyes. Impulsively, she threw her arms around Elain in a fierce hug. "Thank you," she whispered. "For telling me this."

Elain hugged her back just as tightly. When they drew apart, her smile was dazzling.

…

As much as Elain's words had freed her from feeling guilty towards her, they now unsettled her in a whole other way- it was always supposed to be you.

Suddenly, Gwyn couldn't shake the feeling that she and Azriel might be more bound to each other than just 'plain' lovers.

Gwyn's eyes fluttered open once more, her gaze fixing on the enigmatic Illyrian beside her, who had closed his eyes as he drifted off to sleep.

She thought back to when he had rescued her in Sangravah. Upon looking at him, she had known she would be alright, that he wouldn't hurt her like the others had. She never feared to tease him because she always sensed his reaction before it came, and it was always one of delight.

Even in the beginning, when she was still wary of her trauma, something in her spirit had reached for Azriel's. She had felt the kindness and gentleness under his stoic exterior. When he trained her, he was patient and encouraging. He saw her potential when she couldn't.

As they grew closer, she realized how similar they were. Both had endured immense pain and struggled to overcome it. For that reason, both were guarded with their hearts. But what had started as a mentorship bloomed into true friendship, something rare and precious for Azriel. The trust between them was implicit.

Gwyn turned on her side to face Azriel fully, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. He looked so peaceful and happy. The ever-present shadows had calmed around him.

This male, who had suffered so much, did not recoil from her past but embraced her wholly. He was her shelter in the storm, just as she strove to be his.

Something in her heart twisted sharply, and Gwyn had to exhale slowly.

She knew then, with resounding clarity…

Azriel was her mate.

Two fractured souls fused together by a bond as ancient as the stars.

It was dizzying, this knowledge settling into her spirit like the last puzzle piece finally slotted into place.

Perhaps she had known on some level from the beginning but not let herself believe it.

Leaning in, Gwyn placed the softest kiss on Azriel's temple. He stirred, slowly blinking awake again.

As if reading her thoughts, he whispered, "Mine…"

Yet his voice did not hold any of the primal possessiveness it usually did when he claimed her as his. No, this time it held something soft, something so tender, it might vanish if spoken too loudly. And Gwyn wondered if, on some level, he knew too.

She lifted her free hand to caress his cheek. "Yes," she whispered back. "Yours."

Chapter Text

Gwyn paused on the landing between floors, clutching her wooden box tighter.

With a quiet sigh, she gazed down at the cloak draped over it. Dark Illyrian silk that still held the slightest tinge of Azriel's scent… and hers.

It was the one he had wrapped her in the day he found her in Sangravah.

The Mother had a twisted sense of humor, binding her to the male who had saved her from that horror.

Her mate.

Azriel was her mate.

The realization had come like the dawn, slow and then all at once. She should tell him; she knew she should. But—

Gwyn shook her head, cheeks warm, and continued climbing the stairs of the House of Wind.

She was so torn.

After all, he had spent years longing for a mate, only to give up on the idea because of … well her. Who now turned out to be said mate.

Oh the irony.

But then Gwyn felt like he deserved to discover the truth on his own, although it felt like a betrayal to keep such an important secret from him, it didn’t feel right to tell him now either. He’d probably just feel bad that it hadn’t snapped for him yet. Or worse he would start questioning if there was something wrong with him. No Gwyn, didn’t want that.

She herself didn’t really care about the bond anyway. In her eyes there was no need of a cosmic validation for their love.

All Gwyn wanted was him, and anything else would just be a bonus.

Thus, she chose to wait.

By the time she reached the upper levels of the House of Wind, her breathing came fast and cheeks burned. But she had herself under control again—if only just.

"Finally," Nesta exclaimed, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I've been dying to show you."

"Sorry," Gwyn replied sheepishly, trying to catch her breath. "The stairs are… quite the workout."

"Think of it as free training for your legs," Nesta snatched the box from Gwyn's hands despite her protests and together they made their way towards Gwyn's new quarters.

"Are you ready?" Nesta asked, pausing at the door, a mischievous grin playing on her lips.

"Ready as I'll ever be," Gwyn replied, holding her breath as Nesta pushed the door open.

She stepped into the room and froze.

The room was enormous, bigger than any space she'd ever called her own. Intricate teal tapestries lined the stone walls, richly dyed rugs covered the floor, and a massive four-poster bed dominated the center, draped in silk sheets the same deep blue as Azriel's siphons.

Tears sprang to her eyes as she took in the sheer luxury surrounding her, a life of comfort she had never dared to dream of.

“Do you like it?” Nesta’s voice came from behind her.

Gwyn turned, and the words died on her lips at the sight of Nesta’s smile. A real one—open and joyful and free of the usual sharp edges.

Gwyn launched herself at Nesta, throwing her arms around the other woman. “Thank you,” she breathed, tears slipping free at last. “Thank you.”

Nesta’s arms came around her, strong and sure. “You deserve this,” she said softly. “You deserve all of this and more.”

Gwyn just held her tighter.

Here, in this room, in Nesta’s arms ... for a moment, she could pretend. Pretend that she indeed still had a sister. Someone who teased her and loved her just for who she was. That she still had a family she belonged to.

Nesta gently extricated herself from Gwyn's embrace and moved to sit on the edge of the bed, patting the spot beside her in invitation. Gwyn joined her, wiping at her eyes.

"I chose cobalt sheets," Nesta said conspiratorially, "because I know it's your favorite color now." She winked. "I'm only teasing. But really, Gwyn—" Her gaze turned serious. "Does he make you happy?"

Gwyn ducked her head, a smile tugging at her lips. "Yes," she said softly. "Very happy."

"Good." Nesta squeezed her hand. "You deserve that. After everything you've been through ... you deserve happiness, Gwyn."

Gwyn blinked back fresh tears and squeezed Nesta's hand in return. "So do you," she said, meeting her friend's gaze.

Nesta's resulting smile was small but genuine. She cleared her throat, her usual brash demeanor returning as she straightened. "Well, enough of this sentimental nonsense. We have far more important matters to discuss."

Gwyn raised a brow. "Oh?"

Nesta's eyes gleamed with wicked delight. "Details, Gwyn. I want details."

"Details about what?" Gwyn asked, though she had a sinking feeling she already knew.

"Everything!" Nesta insisted, her excitement palpable. "How far have you two gone?"

The question sent a shiver down Gwyn's spine as memories of their passionate love making filled her mind. She hesitated for a moment before admitting,"Well," she said, dropping her hands to her lap, "if you must know ... we've gone all the way."

Nesta's eyes went round. "No!" She bounced on the edge of the bed, nearly shaking the whole mattress. "You're joking!"

Gwyn shook her head, blushing again. "I'm not."

"Mother above," Nesta breathed, staring at her with something like awe. "How was it?"

"Nesta!" Gwyn cried, torn between embarrassment and amusement.

Nesta waved a hand. "Oh, don't give me that look. We're friends, aren't we? Friends share these details." She leaned forward, eyes gleaming. "Is it true what they say ... you know…"

"About what?" Gwyn asked, confusion knitting her brows together.

Nesta sighed, clearly enjoying the opportunity to share some gossip. "There's this theory that a male's size is directly proportional to his wingspan. And, well, Azriel has the most massive wings of all the Illyrians."

A deep flush crept up Gwyn's cheeks as she recalled that part of Azriel and how surprised she was when she first saw it. "I can assure you," she said softly, "he's definitely... not lacking in that department."

Nesta cackled with delight at her reaction, a sound that made Gwyn's heart swell even more.

"No wonder you can’t seem to keep your hands off him."

“That’s not true!" Gwyn cried out, torn between laughter and embarrassment. She swatted at Nesta, who dodged away, cackling.

"What?" Nesta protested. “It totally is. You two are basically stuck at the hips these days. But I don’t blame you. I have eyes…“ She fanned herself dramatically. "All that brooding intensity and those lethal, lethal hands ..."

Gwyn rolled her eyes. "You have a mate of your own, you know."

"Oh, I'm well aware," Nesta purred. "But a girl can still appreciate a beautiful male when she sees one. Even if she is quite content with her own."

Shaking her head, Gwyn rose from the bed. "Honestly, Nesta. I don't know how Cassian puts up with you."

"He adores me," Nesta said smugly.

"Clearly he has the patience of a saint," Gwyn replied, moving to unpack her things.

Nesta scoffed. "Saints wish they had his stamina."

Gwyn threw a pillow at her, fighting a losing battle against her own smile.

Nesta only cackled again. “So tell me, how did he finally confess his feelings? What's your favorite thing about him? Have you picked out baby names yet?"

Gwyn shook her head at Nesta's antics, a smile playing on her lips. "There's not much else to tell. We haven't really discussed the future in that way."

Nesta scoffed. "You expect me to believe the most overprotective, meticulous male in Prythian hasn't planned out your entire future together down to the smallest detail?"

"Things between us are still new," Gwyn said. "We're taking it slow."

"As slow as he was taking you last night?" Nesta wiggled her eyebrows again.

Gwyn squeaked. "Nesta!"

Her friend sighed. "You're no fun. Emerie would've given me every single detail."

"Yes, well, I'm not Emerie."

Nesta smiled at Gwyn's warning look. "My apologies. I'll stop pestering you about your love life...for now.“

Gwyn let out an exasperated sigh and shook her head. Nesta's incessant curiosity could be overwhelming, but Gwyn knew it came from a good place. However, she couldn't resist the urge to share this with her friend.

"Fine," Gwyn relented. “But you'd better not tell anyone else.“

"Promise," Nesta said eagerly, crossing her heart with a finger for emphasis.

Taking a deep breath, Gwyn began to describe some of the moments between her and Azriel.

As Gwyn spoke, her voice grew softer, more reverent, as if she were sharing something sacred. Her words painted a vivid picture of the tender love that had blossomed between her and him, a connection that went far beyond the physical.

Nesta listened, enraptured by Gwyn's tale, her earlier teasing forgotten. There was something achingly beautiful about the way Gwyn described him; what they shared, and Nesta couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought.

"Wow," she breathed when Gwyn finished, her voice hushed with awe. "That sounds... deep."

Gwyn smiled, her eyes bright. "It is," she whispered, her heart swelling with love for the Shadowsinger. "He's the most incredible person I've ever met, and I'm so grateful to have him in my life."

Nesta reached out and squeezed Gwyn's hand, offering her silent support.

“He is a great male indeed," she said softly, her gaze steady and sincere, “and you are a extraordinary female. You both deserve each other."

Later that day, when Nesta had left Gwyn to settle in, a knock sounded at her door. She bid the visitor enter, knowing who it would be before she saw him.

Azriel stepped inside, his wings tucked in close as he surveyed her new quarters. "It suits you," he said after a moment, his voice a low rumble.

“Because of the cobalt?” Gwyn raised an eyebrow. "Nesta seems to think it’s my new favorite color now."

Azriel smirked, stepping further inside. "I can see why."

Gwyn chuckled, shaking her head at his teasing tone.

She watched as Azriel walked around the room, taking in every detail with interest. He seemed at ease here; there was no tension in his shoulders or hesitation in his movements.

Gwyn smiled at the sight, leaning back against the bedpost.

"Nesta interrogated me earlier about us, about you..."

One dark brow arched. "Oh? What about me?"

"She was quite interested in your wingspan for some reason." Gwyn bit her lip, holding back a laugh at Azriel's confused expression.

"Ah, I see." His eyes glinted with humor. "There's an old myth that the size of an Illyrian's wingspan correlates to the size of...other things."

"Other things?" Gwyn tilted her head innocently, though her cheeks were flushed.

Azriel's gaze heated as he prowled closer. "Let's just say I'm...proportional." His voice dropped an octave.

Gwyn's lips parted, her breath coming faster as Azriel stopped mere inches away. His hand came up, thumb brushing over her bottom lip.

"It can be a burden at times," he rasped. "Being so...well-endowed."

“You poor thing,” Gwyn replied with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Azriel chuckled lowly, his heated gaze locked on hers.

Gwyn made a small noise of longing, her eyes falling shut as desire coursed through her. Then Azriel's thumb was replaced with his mouth, claiming her in a searing kiss that stole the very air from her lungs.

She clung to him, drunk on the taste and feel of him surrounding her. When they finally broke for breath, she gazed up at him, eyes dark with want.

"Well it's a good thing I can handle you so well, isn't it?" she purred.

Azriel's answering growl made her shiver with delight. This male would surely be the death of her, but what a delicious way to go.

Reluctantly, he withdrew himself to a safer distance.

"Ananake approached me today. Asking for private training lessons."

Something flashed in Gwyn's eyes, there and gone before Azriel could decipher it.

"I see," she said carefully. "Well, she is rather new to fighting. I'm sure she could benefit from your expertise."

Azriel studied her face. "You're not...bothered by this?"

Gwyn bit her lip. "No, of course not. Why would I be?" But her voice lacked conviction.

Azriel brushed his knuckles along her cheek. "Gwyn," he said gently. "Don’t lie to me."

She let out a shaky breath, not quite meeting his eyes. "It's silly of me, really. I just...I don't want to share you. I know I have no right to feel that way, but..."

Azriel tilted her chin up. "Hey," he murmured. "You have every right. I'm yours, Gwyn. Only yours."

Relief and joy shone in her eyes. Azriel leaned in again and captured her lips in a tender kiss, letting his actions speak the depth of his feelings, showing her without words that she was his whole heart.

When they finally broke, foreheads touching, Azriel said, "I'll turn her down."

Gwyn gave him a radiant smile. "Thank you," she whispered. "But do it in a nice way, please."

Azriel kissed her tenderly once more. "Who do you think I am? Cassian?"

Gwyn's answering laugh turned into something softer, as he gently tucked a strand of hair behind Gwyn's ear. His finger tracing the shape of her arched earlobe.

Her breath hitched at the contact, heat pooling in her core. On impulse, she grabbed Azriel's hand and drew his thumb into her mouth, sucking lightly. She came to the realization that she had quite the obsession with his hands.

Azriel made a sound that came deep from his throat.

"I've been thinking," she began after releasing him, her own voice sounding throaty to her ears.

"Mm, that's dangerous," Azriel teased, although his eyes had become impossibly dark.

Gwyn gave him a playful shove. "Hey. You like me for my brains."

Azriel's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "I do. Please, tell me what you've been thinking about." His voice was gentle yet gruff at the same time.

His teasing smile faded as Gwyn leaned in close, her breath tickling his ear as she whispered her request. His wings fluttered in surprise, eyes widening as he took in her words.

"You...you want me to..." he trailed off, unable to fully form the thought.

A pretty blush stained Gwyn's cheeks, but her eyes were steady, determined. "I know you've never taken me that way because of...because of what happened to me," she said softly. "But I want you to do it now. I have been thinking about it a lot."

Emotion swelled in Azriel's chest, so powerful he could scarcely draw breath. That she would trust him so completely, after everything she had endured...it was a gift beyond measure.

"Gwyn," he rasped, cupping her face in his hands. "Are you certain? We don't have to-"

"I'm certain," she interrupted firmly. Then she smiled, a wicked, heated thing that made Azriel's blood roar."Or don't you want to take me from behind?"

A groan tore from Azriel's throat unbidden. Oh, he wanted. He wanted so badly he could already imagine the feeling of sinking into her like this, of watching himself disappear into her tight, wet heat. But more than the lust was the overwhelming love and gratitude he felt for this miracle of a female before him. Of her strength, of her resilience, of her determination to take her fate back into her own hands.

"Thank you for trusting me," he whispered fervently. "I swear I'll go slow. If you need to stop, just say the word."

Gwyn's breath caught at the hunger in his voice, the restraint he was exhibiting for her sake. Slowly, giving her time to change her mind, Azriel pulled her closer. One hand slid up to curl around the nape of her neck as he claimed her mouth in a searing kiss.

Gwyn sighed into it, boneless against him, her body molding to the hard planes of his. Azriel walked her backwards until her legs hit the bed.

Gently, he lowered Gwyn onto her new sumptuous cobalt sheets, their eyes never breaking contact.

With tender care, he began to undress her, each piece of clothing falling away like leaves from a tree in autumn. Once she was fully undressed, his eyes roamed the expanse of her porcelain skin, taking in every curve, every freckle, committing it to memory. He discarded his own clothes with equal care, allowing himself to be just as exposed before her.

Her naked in front of him like this... it was a vision that made Azriel's breath catch in his throat. A sight that sent a powerful ache through his heart, one that seemed to claw at him from within, demanding to be acknowledged. He could feel the love she had for him radiating off her, like the sun's rays reaching out to touch the earth.

"Come here," she whispered, her voice soft and inviting. Her hand reached up, stroking over the planes of his muscled chest.

Capturing her hand in his, Azriel pressed a tender kiss to her wrist, savoring the warmth of her skin. With deliberate intent, he placed her fingers over his heart, holding them there as if they were a lifeline.

"Your heart," she whispered, "it is beating so fast."

His eyes locked onto hers, dark pools filled with love and admiration for the woman who had captured his very soul.

"Because of you and what you do to me," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

Their lips met in a tender, searching kiss. And it was as if not only their bodies but their very souls were reaching out for one another, yearning to be joined in a profound and irrevocable union. Gwyn's hand remained pressed against Azriel's chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart as it raced in time with her own.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and hungry, as if they could not devour enough of each other to satisfy their craving. Azriel's large hand roamed over Gwyn's body, marveling at the softness of her skin beneath his rough touch. His fingers traced the swell of her breasts, lingering on the delicate peaks before continuing their journey.

Anticipation raced down Gwyn's spine as Azriel's hand moved lower, following the curve of her hip and slipping around to caress the lush roundness of her backside. She moaned softly, the sound muffled against Azriel's lips, as he growled in response.

As the intensity between them continued to build, Azriel's fingers slipped lower, skimming the soft skin of Gwyn's inner thigh. He could feel her trembling beneath him and the heat emanated from her in waves as his fingers crept closer to the source of her desire. The moment his fingertips brushed against the wetness between her legs, it was all over with his retraint.

"Gods, Gwyn," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You are dripping."

Azriel's index finger traced delicate circles around her entrance, coaxing even more of the slick liquid to pool there. Each stroke of his finger sent shivers of electricity through Gwyn's entire body, making her moan loudly into his mouth.

As if to prove his point, he lifted his finger between them, displaying the evidence, that was clinging as white almost translucent substance to his skin. Gwyn's eyes widened at the sight. "See?" he rasped.

His dark eyes locked onto hers. And her heart leaped into her throat at the way he gazed down at her. It was a mix of heated passion and tender adoration. A combination so intoxicating, it must have send all of her decency running, because how else could she explain what she did next ...

Gwyn brought his finger to her lips, parting them slightly to envelop the tip into the warm, wet cavern of her mouth. Her tongue swirled around him, tasting herself on his skin, as she sucked the liquid from his finger with a quiet moan.

The sight of her uninhibited actions ignited something so old and primal in Azriel that his cock twitched uncontrollably between their bodies. "You drive me insane, you know that?," he growled, the words torn from deep within his chest.

"Same," Gwyn responded breathlessly, releasing his finger from her lips.

Azriel's eyes lingered on her flushed face for a moment before he trailed his gaze downward, focusing on her breasts. He leaned in, capturing one of her nipples between his lips and teasing it with gentle bites, eliciting soft whimpers from Gwyn. Her hands found purchase in his dark hair, encouraging him to continue.

"More," she whispered, her voice thick with desire. "Please."

Heeding her words, Azriel moved lower, pressing tender kisses against her abdomen as he went. The scent of her arousal filled his senses, intoxicating him, beckoning him closer. When his lips finally met the wetness between her thighs, he couldn't help but groan at the taste that awaited him – sweet and addictive, a flavor he could never tire of.

As he eagerly devoured her, his fingers joined in, slipping inside her one by one until she was writhing beneath him, her moans growing louder with each thrust. She held onto his hair, her body taut with anticipation, utterly consumed by the sensations he stirred within her.

"Let go," Azriel commanded softly, pausing only momentarily to trace the words against her trembling flesh.

"Ah–" Gwyn gasped, her voice barely able to form words.

Her climax shattered through her like a storm, leaving her breathless and shaking, her body arching off the bed as Azriel continued to coax every last tremor from her.

As her eyes fluttered open, they locked onto Azriel sitting back on his knees. His left hand was wrapped around his cock, pumping it slowly, a look of raw desire etched onto his face. The sight of him pleasuring himself sent another flush of heat through her skin, making her ache anew for his touch.

"Turn around," Azriel growled, his voice low and seductive. Gwyn complied, shifting her position on the bed until her back faced him. She pushed herself up onto her hands and knees, raising her ass slightly as he had instructed.

A hand snaked around her neck, gently guiding her head to lean back against him. His breath was hot against her ear as he whispered, "I like it when you follow my orders."

Gwyn's heart raced as she reached up, her fingers wrapping around the strong forearm that was pressing against her breast.

"Don't get used to it," she teased, her tone light yet filled with arousal.

Azriel growled at her irreverence, his teeth sinking into her shoulder gently, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body. "I like it even more when you don't," he whispered against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing, as he pulled her back, making her backside brush against his hard erection.

A deep groan escaped Gwyn's lips in response.

"Is this what you want?" Azriel murmured, his voice thick with need. His hand moved down, caressing the curve of her buttocks before grasping his cock, moving it over her wet entrance enticingly. The sensation sent shivers down Gwyn's spine, her body rocking against him as if drawn by a magnetic force.

“Yes,” she breathed.

"Remember," Azriel said, his voice soft yet firm, "you can tell me to stop at any time."

Gwyn nodded, her resolve unwavering. "But I don't want you to stop."

With a tenderness that belied his strength, Azriel pushed Gwyn forward again. Positioning himself at her entrance, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.

Her body began trembling as he finally pushed the head of his cock into her, coating himself with her wetness.

Slowly, he pulled her back by her hips, while at the same time pushing forward, guiding himself deeper inside her. They moved together, bodies in perfect synchrony, until he was flush against her. Gwyn cried out, the intensity of the feeling almost too much to bear.

"Oh, Az..." Gwyn cried out, her voice breaking.

"Is it too much?" His concern laced through his words, even as his hips continued to drive into her. He paused, waiting for her response, his hands gripping her hips in a gentle yet possessive hold.

"No, don't stop," Gwyn gasped, the sensation of him filling her completely sending shivers down her spine. "It feels... incredible."

"As you wish," Azriel whispered, his voice barely audible above the sound of their bodies pounding together.

With a deep growl, he increased the pace of their movements, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure coursing through both of them.

Gwyn's nails dug into the sheets beneath her as she surrendered to the overwhelming waves of ecstasy that consumed her.

The shadows who had been absent from their passion for the time being, now swirled around them, caressing Gwyn's skin as he took her from behind.

She shuddered at the cool touch of darkness contrasting with Azriel's heated body. His thrusts were slow and deliberate, hands gripping her hips as he slid into her slick heat again and again.

"Azriel..." she moaned, the pleasure building within her. One of his shadows slid down her belly, circling her sensitive nub. She jerked and cried out at the exquisite sensation. "Your shadows..."

"They want to please you too,"he rasped, his strokes increasing in tempo as her inner walls clenched around him. She was so close, poised on the precipice of blissful release.

Then Azriel pulled her upright against him, turning her face towards his. One hand splayed across her stomach while the other cradled her jaw, guiding her into a searing kiss. As their tongues tangled, the crest of ecstasy broke over Gwyn. She shook and called out Azriel's name, although most of it was swallowed by his mouth.

With a ragged groan Azriel found his own climax, spilling himself deep inside her pulsing heat. Gwyn clung to him, still shuddering with the aftershocks of her orgasm.

The room fell silent, save for their labored breaths.

Azriel carefully withdrew from her and scooped her into his arms, depositing them both on the bed, her back pressed against his chest.

His wings unfurled, creating a cocoon of sorts, enveloping them in their embrace.

Gwyn let out a contented sigh as she snuggled closer to him.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, his voice laced with adoration.

Gwyn turned her head to look at him, a soft smile playing on her lips. "I love you too," she replied, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.

They lay like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking and relishing the feeling of being so intimately connected with one another.

Eventually, Azriel pulled away slightly and looked down at Gwyn with a serious expression. "This might be bad timing," he began, "But I want to ask you something."

Curiosity piqued, Gwyn propped herself up on one elbow and gazed up at him expectantly.

Azriel took a deep breath before continuing. "Now that everyone knows… would you like to meet my mother?"

Chapter Text

Azriel's footsteps echoed loudly through the corridors, his attention catching presence an anomaly in this quiet sanctuary of knowledge.

His senses were heightened, keenly picking up on the curious gazes that trailed him as obvious as loud whispers. The familiar aroma of ink and parchment wafted around him, intermingling with the faint floral fragrance that clung to the robed priestesses.

An aroma that usually brought comfort, even to himself. But not so today.

With each step, his muscular Illyrian wings rustled softly, betraying his growing impatience.

As Azriel strode through the library, the priestesses stilled and glanced up whatever they were doing. Normally he would care. Care about appearing less intimidating, care about their stares.

But now, he was focused on only one thing: finding Gwyn.

"Azriel!" A soft voice broke through his thoughts, causing him to halt momentarily. Recognizing one of his trainees approaching him, he noticed her cheeks flush crimson before she found her voice again. "What brings you here?"

"Good morning, Sylara," he replied calmly, "I’m searching for Gwyn. Do you know where she might be?"

"Certainly," Sylara responded, her eyes widening in comprehension. "She's two levels below."

"Thank you," Azriel murmured before making his departure swiftly, urgency propelling his movements.

Navigating down the spiral staircase with care, Azriel kept his wings folded close to avoid toppling over any precariously stacked manuscripts.

As he descended further, a whiff of her scent reached him and he let his instincts take over.

Upon reaching the ground level, something beckoned him leftwards. And rounding a corner, there she was.

Gwyn nestled comfortably in an alcove with an imposing leather-bound book sprawled open across her lap. Her head was bowed in deep concentration as she navigated through lines of text while strands of coppery hair danced over her shoulders.

She must have sensed his presence, because as he approached, her head lifted and she met his gaze.Those unmistakable teal eyes sparkled upon seeing him. "Azriel," she sighed, a radiant smile blooming across her face. "I didn't anticipate your visit until later."

Her joy was short-lived as she noticed the tension etched in his features, a wave of unease washing over her. Before he could fully come to a halt in front of her, she quickly got up and closed the remaining distance herself,"What’s the matter?"

His golden-brown eyes held hers with unwavering intensity. "I must leave for a few days," he confessed, his voice steady despite the veiled tension that laced his words. "Some of my spies have failed to report back, and I need to check on them."

Gwyn's pulse quickened at his words.

"And you came here to…" she ventured tentatively, her voice barely audible.

"…to say goodbye," Azriel finished for her. A cold wave of fear washed over Gwyn, wrapping around her like a chilling shroud. She attempted to swallow the knot that had formed in her throat but it held its ground.

"Please…," she began begging. For what she didn’t know, but Azriel seemed to have a good vision of what it was when he answered her.

He leaned in slightly, his hand coming up to cup her cheek with a tenderness she knew was reserved only for her.

When he studied her expression, a flicker of pain ghosted across his extraordinary beautiful face at the sight of her distress.

His words were soft, a gentle caress against her cheek as his thumb traced delicate circles. "Trust me," he whispered, "I'll be back soon."

And she did trust him, with her life. But it wasn’t about that. Gwyn knew all to well the horrors that continued to persist in this world and there was a nagging feeling in her gut, a warning voice that screamed at her, to not let him go.

She had seen him go on countless dangerous missions before and never had she felt anything close to the way she did now.

But at those times, she had also been unaware that he was her mate and there had no potential rebellion been brewing.

Her musings were interrupted by the subtle sensation of Azriel's touch, as he tried to soothe the crease forming between her brows.

Somehow it felt distant though, muted almost and then she noticed: black gloves encased his hands. It was only then she registered the battle armor hugging his muscular frame protectively—the Spymaster of Night Court ready for whatever lay ahead.

Her breath caught in her throat as the realization hit her like a wave crashing against the shore – whatever mission he was embarking on, it was serious. Dangerous.

"What…" she managed to croak out, gripping his gloved hand which still held onto her face tenderly and pressing it against where her heart thrummed wildly beneath layers of clothing and fear. "What about your mother? She is supposed to visit us in a week."

Azriel's unwavering gaze bore into hers; determination flared within them. "I'll be back before then," he assured calmly.

Despite wanting desperately to believe him—to let the firmness in his voice soothe her turbulent emotions—Gwyn couldn't shake off the dread gnawing at her, a relentless phantom that refused to be exorcised.

"Promise me," she implored, her fingers tightening around his. "Promise me you'll stay safe."

Azriel's gaze flickered to their entwined hands; he could feel the tremors coursing through her body. He met her worried gaze, his heart constricting within him.

"I promise," he vowed quietly, his words echoing in the hushed stillness of the library. The whispers of other priestesses present filled the air louder now, their curiosity piqued by this intimate exchange, but neither Azriel nor Gwyn paid them any heed.

"Return to me," Gwyn whispered, her eyes boring into his with an intensity that ignited his very soul.

"I will," Azriel assured before closing the distance between them and capturing her lips in a lingering kiss.

When he attempted to pull away, she grabbed his collar and yanked him back, joining their foreheads together as if trying to anchor him to her very being.

"You heard me, Shadowsinger?" she demanded, her voice fierce, raw, and vulnerable all at once. "Come back to me. Unharmed!"

Azriel's heart clenched at the desperation in her words, the way they tugged at something deep within him, unraveling the carefully woven threads of his composure. He swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat, blinking back whatever it was that was clouding his vision.

"Always," he promised fiercely. "I will always return to you."

Azriel wrapped Gwyn in an embrace for one last time, memorizing the feel of her against him and imprinting her scent into his memory.

He had never before felt such a desperate urge to stay, but with Gwyn, everything was different. For the first time he had something - someone - to anticipate returning home to.

"I'll be back as soon as possible," he assured before reluctantly pulling away.

Azriel's fingers traced a searing path along her jawline one final time, leaving a burning imprint on her skin. "I have to go now," he declared through clenched teeth, his voice thick with emotion."Goodbye, Gwyn."

The finality in his tone sent a wave of sorrow through her, causing her voice to waver as she replied, "Goodbye, Azriel." With a heavy heart, she watched him turn and walk away, taking a piece of her soul with him.

Gwyn's voice rang out one last time, urgent to reach Azriel's retreating form. "I love you," she pleaded, tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

Azriel halted in his tracks long enough to turn around and gift her one of his heart-stopping smiles.

"And I love you, Gwyneth Berdara. With all my heart and soul," he declared openly and loud enough for everyone to hear.

And with one last lingering look, he turned and strode away for good.

Unbeknownst to Azriel, as he left the library—and later the Night Court—the threads of fate had already begun to fray and snap around him.

And little did he know, it would be the last time he ever laid eyes on Velaris, the city he called home.

For Azriel would never set foot in the Night Court again.

Chapter Text

Gwyn bolted upright, her slumber shattered by a tumultuous storm of fleeting visions of Azriel and murmured anxieties.

With a sigh, she pushed back the covers and swung her feet onto the cold stone floor. The chill seeped into her bones, mirroring the icy grip of fear that still lingered from her Nightmares.

She stumbled to the bathroom, desperately hoping that the scalding water of the shower would wash away the haunting images in her mind.

She took her time getting dressed, choosing a simple blue tunic and leggings that accentuated her slender physique.

As she ascended to the dining hall, her fingers grazed along the wall, drawing solace from its unyielding existence.

Cassian was already there waiting for her, casually leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded across his robust torso. A flicker of worry danced in his gaze, but he offered her a warm smile nonetheless.

"Morning, Gwyn," he greeted, pushing off the doorframe and stepping aside to let her pass. "Ready for your training session with Rhysand?"

"Good morning, Cassian," Gwyn replied, forcing a smile onto her lips. Her voice wavered as she added, "I am."

He offered his arm, and together they stepped onto the windswept balcony. Seconds later they soared into the sky, a cold breeze whipping at their hair as they journeyed toward the Riverhouse.

As they entered the grand hall, the High Lord stood at the head of a long table, his arms crossed and a small smile on his face. Rhysand strode confidently towards them, extending a hand in greeting.

Gwyn followed him to his study, her steps hesitant and her expression distant. Rhysand noticed the slight tremble in her hands as she clasped them together. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, his tone filled with concern.

Gwyn hesitated for a moment, debating whether to share her growing anxiety or not. But in the end, she couldn't keep it to herself any longer. "I'm worried about Azriel," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rhysand sighed, his expression softening as he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I understand, Gwyn. Truly, I do. But have faith that Azriel is skilled enough to handle whatever challenges he faces. He'll return to us soon. I promise."

But even as Rhysand spoke with the reassurance and conviction of a High Lord, Gwyn couldn't shake the unease that settled deep within her bones.

"I ... it's different this time. I can feel it."

"Trust him, Gwyn," Rhysand urged, his violet eyes serious and sincere. "Now, let's try to focus on your training."

With a forced smile on her lips, she whispered, "Alright," even though her heart continued to race. She knew that the uneasiness wouldn't subside until her mate would return to her side.

----

Gwyn had hoped that taking a sleeping potion and getting a good night's rest would alleviate these feelings. However, they only seemed to have amplified, when she woke up the next day.

She joined Nesta and Emerie in the training ring, her eyes flitting continuously to the spot where Azriel usually stood. Instead, Mor was there, her golden hair shining in the sunlight, a playful smile on her lips as she instructed the other priestesses.

"Hey," Nesta said gently, noticing Gwyn's inability to focus on their own training. "He'll be back before you know it."

Gwyn's lips curved upwards, but the smile was strained and forced. Her eyes were red and weary, betraying her facade of being fine. Exhaustion radiated from every pore of her body as she had been putting on a brave face for the past days.

"I know. His mother is supposed to visit soon and he promised he'd be back by then," Gwyn revealed, her voice quivering with worry. "He never breaks his promises."

Emerie's words were meant to comfort, but they only added fuel to the fire in Gwyn's mind. "Sometimes things don't go according to plan," she said softly. "But that doesn't mean something is terribly wrong."

Gwyn sighed, forcing herself to nod in agreement even though her heart screamed otherwise.

As the days dragged on in a fog of fear and uncertainty, Gwyn knew she had to get a grip on her emotions before they overtook her completely.

One evening, she sat at the dinner table, watching the candlelight flicker and cast eerie shadows across her untouched plate. The sound of utensils clinking and Nesta's soft chatter with Cassian filled the room, but it all felt distant to Gwyn.

"Are you going to eat that?" Nesta's voice was gentle, but it only grated on Gwyn's frayed nerves.

She stared down at the meal before her, stomach churning.

She couldn't bring herself to eat, not when she felt this weight on her chest and a sense of foreboding in the pit of her stomach.

"I can't," she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

Cassian's concerned eyes bore into her, but she refused to meet his gaze. "You need to keep up your strength, Gwyn. Az is fine; he'll be back safe and sound, you’ll see."

Her fork scraped harshly against the plate as she pushed the food around, her agitation bubbling dangerously close to the surface.

"Everybody keeps saying that," she spat out, gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles turned white. "But I know something isn't right. I feel it so deeply in my bones."

Nesta's attempt at comfort fell short as Gwyn shook off her hand from her arm. "How can you tell me not to worry?" she demanded, her voice rising in desperation. "He promised to be back by now."

The room fell silent, the weight of Gwyn's fears suffocating everyone in it. But then Nesta spoke again, her words laced with false reassurance. "Azriel will return. He always has," she said softly.

Gwyn's eyes burned with unshed tears, each drop threatening to shatter the dam of her composure.

"But this is different…" she rasped through clenched teeth, her voice breaking under the weight of her anguish.

"Hey," Cassian intervened, his tone gentle but firm. "We all know how skilled Azriel is. He can handle himself."

Gwyn's nails dug into her palms as she squeezed her fists tight, struggling to contain the truth that threatened to spill from her lips. Her gaze flicked briefly to Nesta, who watched her with a mix of concern and curiosity, before locking onto Cassian's unwavering stare.

"You think I'm being unreasonable," she paused, feeling the weight of her words before continuing. "But he is my mate," she whispered, voice barely audible.

Nesta's eyes widened, and Cassian's jaw dropped in shock. For a moment, they sat frozen, staring at Gwyn as if unable to process her revelation.

"Your... your mate?" Nesta stuttered, blinking rapidly as though trying to clear her vision.

Gwyn nodded, tears brimming in her eyes. "Yes. I've known for a while, but did not say anything, because he doesn't."

"By the Mother," Cassian breathed, his face a mixture of surprise and awe. "That explains so much."

But Gwyn was unable to revel in their reaction. Her heart felt like it was being ripped apart with every moment that passed. Tears streamed down her face as she pleaded,"Please believe me when I say I know something isn't right. My soul feels like it's being torn apart."

Nesta reached across the table, grasping Gwyn's trembling hand in hers. "We believe you, Gwyn," she said softly, her blue-grey eyes filled with sympathy. "Let’s talk to Rhys tomorrow."

Cassian nodded solemnly, adding his own hand atop theirs.

———

The next morning Gwyn's anxiety had reached its peak.

Unable to focus on anything else, she did not hesitate to ask Cassian to fly her to the Riverhouse first thing in the morning.

Every nerve in her body felt on edge as she paced back and forth in front of Rhysand's study.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked and pushed the door open without waiting for a response, the urgency in her voice betraying her fear. "Rhysand?" she called out, her words coming out in short breaths.

The High Lord looked up from his desk, his eyes widening at the sight of Gwyn's frantic state.

"Gwyn," he said, concern etching lines across his brow. "What's wrong?"

"Have... have you heard anything from Azriel?" Her fingers twisted together in a white-knuckled grip as she waited for his answer.

His expression darkened with worry as he shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not," he said gravely.

Gwyn's throat tightened with panic, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. "We have to find him," she pleaded, grasping onto Rhysand's steady presence like a lifeline. "He was supposed to pick up his mother today. He promised to be back."

Rhysand's intense gaze trailed over Gwyn's face, lingering on the quivering of her lips and the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He could see the terror in her bright teal eyes, and his heart clenched. Gwyn didn't have to tell him, he understood.

In an instant he rose from his desk and came around to place a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"You're right," he said gently. "It's not like Azriel to break a promise, especially when it comes to his family." Rhysand's violet eyes hardened with resolve. "I'll go to Rosehall myself and bring his mother to the House of Wind. Then we can discuss what to do next."

Gwyn's shoulders sagged with relief, the panic in her chest unwinding slightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I know how much he means to you. We'll find him, Gwyn." His words were firm with conviction. With a rustle of magic, he winnowed away.

Alone once more, Gwyn wandered out onto the balcony, her fingers trailing along the cold stone railing. She gazed out at the sweeping view of Velaris but took no comfort in its beauty. Her thoughts twisted and turned, consumed by one thing and one thing only - Azriel.

Where was he? Why hadn't he sent word? Cold, insidious fear crept through her veins. What if he was hurt...or worse? She couldn't bear to complete the thought. Gwyn closed her eyes against the sting of tears. "Please be alright, Az," she whispered into the silence. "Please come back to me."

Chapter Text

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

The sound was relentless, like fingernails tapping against a glass surface, each drop echoing through the darkness.

It was this maddening noise that drew Azriel back to consciousness, irritating his senses and gnawing at his mind until he could no longer ignore it.

His body felt heavy, weighed down by an invisible force, and every inch of him ached as if he'd been trampled by a herd of wild horses.

Drip.

Drip.

It kept reverberating through his skull, amplifying the throbbing pain that had settled deep within his head. It was as if a blacksmith were pounding away at his temples.

But with each thud, Azriel's awareness sharpened.

He could now taste the cold, stale air on his tongue, feel the chill of the stone beneath him seeping into his bones. He must not be wearing much clothing. The scent of decay and wet earth assaulted his nostrils, mingling with the copper tang of blood.

Drip.

As his senses continued to awaken, the rhythmic noise seemed to grow louder, more insistent, grating against his nerves, until it drowned out everything else and he was forced to confront the grim reality of his situation:

He was trapped, bound by chains, and the dripping sound – he realized with a jolt of dread – was him bleeding on the floor.

The darkness pressed in on Azriel as he tried to open his eyes. His left eye complied, revealing near-total blackness, while his right eye refused to respond at all.

Panic spiked through him, but he quickly squashed it.

He knew he couldn't afford to lose himself to fear or despair – not when he wanted a chance to survive whatever this was.

The weight of his body was straining against his arms. He turned his head slightly, squinting in the darkness and he caught a glimpse of rusted metal links and manacles encircling his hands, chafing raw skin.

He tried to pull himself up, to ease the pressure on his shoulders and arms. But his weakened state, coupled with the unbearable pain that ripped through his left wing, made the task impossible.

Oh gods, he shouldn’t have done that.

As if responding to his self-recrimination, memories began flashing – fragmented images and assaulting sensations, were playing out before him like a tragic tale.

He found himself back at the Autumn Court border, tracing the last hint of his informant, down a narrow forest path where the canopy of leaves above had prevented him from taking flight.

They had laid out a trap, had ambushed him.

The sudden sting of faebane-tipped arrows piercing his flesh, pinning him to the ground. It had surprised him, overwhelmed him.

The triumphant laughter of Devlon and the other Illyrians as they closed in…

"Did you really think you could escape us, Shadowsinger?" Devlon sneered, his voice dripping with venomous satisfaction. "You may be good, but you are not invincible."

"Let me go," Azriel rasped, his limbs trembling with effort as he attempted to rise, only to collapse under the weight of his poisoned body.

"Sorry, can't do that," another Illyrian replied mockingly as they bound him with heavy chains, their metal links biting into his flesh. "We have plans for you."

A precise blow to his head that shattered his eye, knocking him unconscious.

The memories shifted, fading into the dimly lit dungeons of the Autumn Court.

Azriel recalled the questions, spat through sneers and curses. Beron and Devlon, determined to break him. To learn of the dread troves. Of Rhysand. Information he would never give, no matter what they did to him.

"Tell us what we want to know," Beron had commanded, his cold gaze boring into Azriel's soul. "And perhaps this will be less painful."

"Go to hell," Azriel spat defiantly, despite the agony that wracked his body. He refused to give them the satisfaction, focusing on thoughts of Gwyn's smile instead. Her image was like a flickering candle in this darkness, a beacon of hope in the midst of despair.

"Very well," Beron replied, his voice cold and emotionless. "Then we will continue until there is nothing left of you but blood and broken bones."

The sound of iron against stone echoed through the chamber as they sharpened their instruments, a macabre symphony Azriel knew all too well.

And they had done good on their promise to leave him bloody and broken. They had done things he never thought possible, things nightmares were made of.

The fire that had eaten up his skin, the icy cold that nearly stopped his heartbeat. The agony was so severe that Azriel had almost welcomed the sweet release of unconsciousness each time it took him, but it never lasted long. They wanted him to feel every ounce of pain they could dish out.

"Tell us what we want to know," Devlon growled, the venomous malice dripping from his words like poison.

“Where does he keep the dread troves…" Beron added, his voice low and menacing. "Your loyalty to him will be your undoing."

Azriel gritted his teeth, even as his body begged for mercy, he refused to give in to their demands.

"Never," he rasped defiantly, each word laced with the weight of his unwavering resolve.

"Stubborn fool," Devlon spat, his vicious sneer a dark omen that the worst was yet to come. "We'll break you eventually."

And it did come …

When Devlon's eyes had met his own, a sickening glee was in their depths as he brandished a knife. "I always wanted a trophy from you," he'd sneered, "A memento of our time together."

With a war cry born from hatred and vengeance, Devlon had sliced through the tendons and muscles of Azriel's left wing with brute force, tearing parts of it off in a cruesome spray of blood and flesh.

Screams had torn from Azriel's parched lips as agony unlike any other consumed him. The shadows recoiled within him, appalled at the savagery being enacted upon their master.

The only thing Azriel could do to keep his sanity, was to retreat further into the sanctuary of his memories.

Finding solace in those moments spend with Gwyn. The intoxicating scent of her hair, the taste of her lips on his own, the soft, sensual curve of her body pressed against him—their love pulsed through his veins like a lifeline, fueling his determination to survive.

"This is your death sentence," Azriel whispered hoarsely, the depth of his conviction evident in every strained syllable.

"Barely clinging to life and yet trying to maintain your bravado," Beron spat with contempt, striking Azriel once more with a force that sent shockwaves through his already battered body.

"Pathetic," he sneered at Azriel's feeble attempts to remain defiant.

Turning to Devlon with a twisted smile, he added, "But then again, what can one expect from an Illyrian? No offense." The sound of another blow echoed through the room, a sickening symphony of pain and humiliation.

"Look at you," Devlon snarled, his words dripping with disdain. "You think you're so much better than us, don't you? The Shadowsinger, the precious Spymaster of the Night Court. Where has it gotten you?"

Azriel clenched his jaw, refusing to let Devlon's taunts penetrate his mental armor.

"Your time will come, sooner than later," Devlon continued, leaning in close enough for his hot breath to brush against Azriel's bruised cheek. "I should have killed you back then, after what you did to my men at the bar."

Azriel could still remember the feeling of Devlon's man's throat beneath his teeth as he had ripped it out. It had been a brutal retribution—an act born of love and rage and fueled by the primal need to protect his friends at all costs.

"But someone else wants you alive," Devlon revealed with a sneer, his eyes glinting with malice. "Barely breathing, but alive."

The admission sent a shiver down Azriel's spine, his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he wondered who could possibly want him in such a state.

His father maybe? But why? He couldn't fathom the reason behind it.

He knew one thing for certain though: as long as he drew breath, he would fight to return to Gwyn's side.

"Who?" Azriel rasped. "Who needs me alive?"

Devlon laughed cruelly, stepping back and shaking his head. "That's not for you to know just yet," he taunted. "But I promise you this, Shadowsinger… you will wish I had ended you right here."

Indeed, the memories flooded back now... The way they had wrenched Truthteller from his thigh, systematically divesting him of his armor, his siphons. Leaving his vulnerable flesh exposed to their brutal whims, his wings...his left wing. Gods above... They had savagely mutilated his left wing... it was nearly severed from his body and it throbbed.

If he didn't get to a healer soon, he would surely die.

Azriel gritted his teeth against the agony rippling through his body with every movement. He tugged at the restraints again, summoning what remained of his strength, but the metal held firm. He was too weak. They had drained him, bled him like a pig for slaughter until he hovered at the brink of death each day. Only to begin again.

He tasted blood—his own—as he worked his jaw. They had knocked out teeth in their efforts to break him.

Drip.

He swallowed, the motion sending a wave of nausea through his gut. How long had they kept him here, chained in the dark? Long enough for infection to set in, if the stench of his own rottening flesh was any indication. His wounds were festering, the ragged edge of his wing putrid and swollen.

Fever licked at his mind but he pushed the delirium away through an effort of will. He needed to stay focused. Stay awake.

Otherwise...

He felt the poison in his veins, sapping his strength with every heartbeat. If he didn't find a healer soon, his life would bleed out onto these stones.

The thought filled him with despair, not for himself but for the life he would lose. For the smile he would never see again.

Gwyn.

Her face swam before his mind, bright as the sun. He wished for nothing more than to hear her laugh one more time. Taste the sweetness of her lips against his.

Drip.

If he was going to die here, in this lightless pit, he needed those memories to be the last thing in his mind.

Not the hatred in Devlon's eyes, or the agony in his wing, but Gwyn's radiance. The joy she brought to his world.

He smiled then, blood coating his teeth. She had given him that, at last.

A glimpse of true happiness.

And he would cling to it until the very end.

Drip.

The dripping continued, slower now as his blood ran dry. Azriel welcomed the silence that crept over him.

He had told them nothing. And they had left him here to rot.

He had kept his oath. Protected his family, his court. And though it might mean his end, he would die with honor intact.

Azriel braced himself against the chains, his head drooping. Waiting.

The end would come and he would face it without fear.

He would go into the forever night with her image in his mind. Her smile.

One last effort though… he wanted to try one last time.

Azriel forced open his eye and saw a faint outline of a door in the far corner. Despite the lack of light emanating from it, he could sense fresher air drifting in through the cracks. It was a potential escape route.

He pulled against the chains again, gritting his teeth against the pain the motion ignited in his arms and wing. The metal cut deep into his wrists, slick with blood and other fluids. But there—one of the links was weaker than the others. If he could get enough momentum...

Azriel braced his feet against the floor and pulled with everything he had left. Muscle and bone strained under his skin, threatening to tear free of their moorings. The chain groaned in protest.

And then, with a sharp crack, the weak link gave.

Azriel collapsed back against the floor, breathing hard. One hand free. Now for the other.

He fumbled at the manacle still encircling his right wrist, searching for another weak point. There—the hinge was damaged, the metal twisted enough to wedge a finger under. Azriel worked at it, prying with ragged nails, ignoring the pain that shot up his arm.

With a sharp snap, the manacle fell away.

Azriel was free.

He slowly rose to his feet, every muscle screaming in protest. He was weakened, but the surge of victory at getting free lent him strength. Now there was nothing to keep him from getting back…

"I'm disappointed in you, Shadowsinger." The voice was oily and sinister, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Azriel froze, his instincts screaming danger.

"Why do you resist me so?" the voice crooned. "I've waited so very long for this meeting between us. Yet you only ever think of escape."

Invisible chains materialized around Azriel's newly freed wrists, forcing his arms behind his back once more. He struggled against the restraints, but they only seemed to tighten in response.

"There, that's better," the voice purred. "Now you won't be running off when I've gone through so much trouble to get you here."

"What do you want?" Azriel bit out through clenched teeth.

A dark chuckle echoed through the cavern. "Straight to business then? No time for pleasantries? Very well."

The temperature dropped sharply as the voice drew nearer. Azriel could feel deathly cold radiating from the invisible presence before him.

"I want what I've always wanted." A icy finger trailed down Azriel's cheek. "To be free again."

Chapter Text

It was already early afternoon, when Rhysand arrived with Azriel's mother. Cassian, Nesta and Gwyn were waiting expectantly in the lounging area.

"This is Reina, Azriel’s mother," Rhys announced, gesturing to the elegant female beside him.

Gwyn couldn't help but stare, her heart quickening as she took in the striking resemblance between Reina and Azriel. The same dark hair framed her face, framing sharp cheekbones and a strong jawline. Her eyes were the same intense hazel, capable of piercing through the depths of one's soul, yet warm and inviting at the same time. She was utterly beautiful, much like her son.

But it wasn't just physical similarities that caught Gwyn's attention – there was an undeniable aura about Reina that reminded her so much of Azriel, it made her chest ache with longing.

And then there were her wings ... Gwyn shuddered. The edges jagged where the primaries had been hacked off in a brutal, misogynistic tradition.

Seeing Emerie’s was bad, but this… Gwyn's stomach turned as she thought of the pain that mutilation would have caused, making her wonder how much worse things had been in Illyria during Reina's childhood.

Reina's gaze lingered on Cassian, her eyes softening with familiarity and warmth. "My dear boy," she murmured affectionately, the love between them evident in her tone.

"It’s so good to see you," Cassian greeted warmly, his voice brimming with genuine respect and affection. He strode forward and enfolded Reina in a hug, nearly lifting her off her feet.

She laughed, a warm and husky sound, and smacked his shoulder. "Put me down, Cassian."

He chuckled but obeyed, setting Reina back on her feet.

"I already told Rhysand. Don’t take so long coming for a visit next time," she purred, patting his cheek.

A sheepish grin. "My apologies, we won’t." Cassian glanced to Nesta, who had risen to her feet. "Reina, allow me to introduce Nesta Archeron, my mate."

Nesta dipped her head politely. "A pleasure to meet you."

Reina waved a hand. "The pleasure is all mine. Azriel has spoken so highly of you." She extended her arms, inviting Nesta into an embrace. Hesitantly, Nesta stepped forward, wrapping her slender arms around Reina.

"Likewise. It's an honor to meet you," Nesta replied, her guard lowered just enough to let the sincerity seep through her words. As they separated, Gwyn could see the faintest hint of vulnerability in Nesta's eyes.

Gwyn's throat constricted as she swallowed back a wave of grief, knowing that Azriel's absence was keenly felt in that moment by everyone.

Reina's gaze, warm and knowing, shifted from Nesta to Gwyn.

Gwyn trembled, fighting to keep the tears from falling, feeling like an exposed nerve as those gentle eyes seemed to pierce right through her.

She approached Gwyn slowly, her steps measured and gentle. A tender smile graced her lips as she reached out to cup Gwyn's shaking hands in hers.

"You must be Gwyneth, the Carynthian," she murmured with a soothing voice.

Gwyn lowered her head, unable to meet her gaze without crying. "I... I don't really deserve that title," she stammered.

Azriel’s mother tilted her head, studying the female in front of her intently. "That is not what my son told me."

Gwyn's heart stuttered at the mention of him.

"In his letters, Azriel wrote you are the most deserving person he has ever met," Reina continued softly and Gwyn’s heart ached. "He told me how fierce you are, how determined and strong. That despite the horrors you have endured, you found your light again and it gave him so much hope. He believes your spirit can weather any storm, you know? His letters overflow with admiration for your resilience."

Reina reached out, tipping Gwyn's chin up until their eyes met once more. Gwyn’s were full of tears ready to overflow.

"And my son does not give that kind of praise lightly. The way he speaks of you...it is clear you have carved out a special place in that guarded heart of his."

Reina smiled again. "So do not sell yourself short, Gwyneth. I’m sure you are everything Azriel says you are, and more."

She enfolded the sobbing Gwyn in her arms, and as they embraced, Gwyn clung to her, not wanting to let go. The warmth of Reina's body was like a balm, soothing the ache that had settled deep within Gwyn's soul since Azriel's disappearance, if only for a moment.

"Thank you," Gwyn whispered, her voice thick with emotion as she finally pulled away from the embrace.

With a soft sigh, Rhysand gestured for everyone to take their seats around the big oak table.

The tension in the air was palpable, as they listened to him intently.

"From what we've gathered," Rhys began, his words measured and calm, "two of Azriel's informants have gone missing. He went to track them down near the Autumn Court border, where Devlon had been spotted not long ago. And since then he has been missing himself.“

Gwyn's chest tightened at the mention. She clenched her hands beneath the table, willing herself to block out all the horrible pictures that flashed in front of her inner eye.

"Perhaps I could meet with Eris," Cassian offered, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group. "He might know something or help me pick up Azriel's trail."

Gwyn fought the urge to lash out, to scream into the void that threatened to swallow her whole. Instead, she fixed her gaze on the others, determined not to let them see how desperately she was unraveling.

"I’ll come along," she rushed out. "I want… I need to help."

Rhysand's violet eyes held a storm of emotions as he regarded her, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow.

"Gwyn, I understand your desire to be involved, but it's too dangerous. Devlon is no ordinary adversary, and we don't know what risks you might face. For now, I think it's best if you stay here with Nesta and Reina until we have more information."

The words struck Gwyn like a physical blow, causing her to flinch involuntarily. She knew Rhysand meant well, but the idea of sitting idly by while Azriel needed her was unbearable. As she struggled to form a response, Nesta moved closer, placing a comforting hand on Gwyn's shoulder.

"I hate to say this, but Rhys is right," she agreed softly. "Let Cassian meet with Eris and then we decide what to do next."

Gwyn's chest tightened, frustration bubbling beneath the surface as she tried to find solace in Nesta's words. Her thoughts swirled like a tempest, images of Azriel's laughter, the warmth of his touch, the intensity of their shared passion intermingling with the cold reality of his absence. She could feel her magic inside her yearning to break free, to tear through the barriers of her skin and she knew she needed to get a grip before she was driving herself into madness.

"Fine," she acquiesced, her voice tight with barely contained emotion. "But once we know where he is, I won’t stay put any longer."

"None of us will," Nesta added, her expression grave.

The group fell into a heavy silence, each lost in their thoughts as the gravity of the situation pressed down upon them.

"If Devlon has been seen in the Autumn Court… does he have allies there?" Nesta asked further, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Rhysand leaned back in his chair, his violet eyes narrowed in thought. "Possibly. We must prepare for all eventualities."

Nesta glanced at Rhysand, her eyes sharp. "Could Eris be involved? If Cassian meets with him, it could be dangerous, too."

Rhysand nodded slowly, considering her words. "You raise a fair point. Eris and I have an uneasy truce, but he is unpredictable. I'll send two of Azriel's most trusted spies along with Cassian as backup."

He turned his intense gaze to Cassian. "Be on your guard. We don't know who we can trust outside of our circle right now."

Cassian met his High Lord's stare unflinchingly and gave a single nod of agreement, his jaw set with determination.

Gwyn could see the worry etched into Rhysand's features, and she knew it mirrored her own thoughts. How deep did this treachery run? What further horrors awaited them?

"Let’s not lose any more time," Cassian said, determination hardening his jaw. "Send word to Eris and I’ll meet him tomorrow morning."

"Alright. Rest assured, we will find a way to bring Azriel back," Rhysand said locking eyes with each person around the table. "We have faced darkness before, and we have always emerged victorious. Let us trust that it will be the same this time."

He then turned to Azriel's mother. "It's good to have you here, Reina. I’m sorry it’s under these uncertain circumstances though." Gwyn noticed how Reina's clipped wings seemed to flutter ever so slightly at his words.

"Thank you, Rhysand," she replied, her voice quivering as she added, "just please bring him back."

And Gwyn was struck by the intensity of the fierce love burning within Reina's eyes and she felt a lot of sympathy for the woman who had born such a remarkable male.

Chapter Text

Gwyn followed Nesta and Azriel's mother to her room, her mind spinning with all they had discussed. It all made a sickening amount of sense. Beron had always resented Rhysand's power, and with the turmoil following their partaking in the bloodrite in Illyria, it was the perfect opportunity for him to make allies in the Night Court.

She gritted her teeth, fury burning in her veins. If Devlon had dared harm a hair on Azriel's head, she would shred him apart. Slowly.

"Gwyn." Nesta's voice cut through her rage, and Gwyn blinked to find both women watching her with concern. She compelled her body to exhale, to release the tension that had made her body go rigid.

"I'm alright," she said, though they all knew it was a lie. "Just...thinking of ways to make Devlon pay."

Nesta sighed, folding Gwyn into a gentle embrace. She smelled of cinnamon and cloves, warm and comforting. "I understand your anger, truly I do. But we must remain level-headed if we want to get Azriel back safely."

Gwyn nodded against her shoulder, swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. "I know. I just..."

"The thought of him suffering tears you apart." Nesta finished softly.There was no judgement in her tone, only empathy. "I feel the same about Cassian, I understand."

"It's unbearable," Gwyn whispered. To imagine a world without Azriel in it...she couldn't. Wouldn't.

Reina stroked her hair, her voice heavy with sorrow and hope. "We'll find him, Gwyneth. My boy is strong, especially when he has something to figth for."

Gwyn lifted her head, meeting the older woman's gaze.

Reina took her hand gently and guided her to the bed in the corner to their right. They sat down together, the mattress sinking softly beneath them.

"Let me tell you something," she said, a wistful smile touching her lips. "We did not see each other as often as I wished, but he wrote regularly. In the past one and a half year he spoke often of you, Gwyneth."

Gwyn's eyes widened in surprise. "Me? But...we were just trainer and trainee then."

Reina chuckled knowingly. "Oh, I could tell from the way he described you that it was much more than that, even if Azriel didn't see it himself. You are his mate aren’t you?”

Gwyn's mouth fell open in shock.

"How do you know that?" she breathed.

"A mother knows these things. The way he wrote about you...the tenderness in his words when he described your strength and courage, your compassion, your beauty, your irreverence..." Reina smiled teasingly, brushing an errant copper strand behind Gwyn's ear.

"He may not have realized the significance, but I could hear it in every letter."

Gwyn's heart thrummed wildly in her chest.

"Azriel has seen more darkness and suffering than anyone should in a lifetime. He thinks himself unworthy of being loved."

Suddenly Reina's smile faded, a shadow crossing her kind features.

"And I'm afraid my son's blindness in matters of the heart is partly my own doing." She lowered her gaze, staring down at her clasped hands.

"Azriel never had good examples of love when he was young. His father..." She shook her head and a single tear slipped down her cheek. "That male treated me horribly, even though I was his mate. He kept Azriel caged, barely let me see my own son. And then there were his step brothers …"

Gwyn reached out, covering Reina's hands with her own. "You cannot blame yourself for that," she said fiercely, although her body was trembling now too. "The fault lies with his father alone."

Reina nodded gratefully at Gwyneth's words, though her eyes remained downcast. "You're very kind, my dear. But a mother always feels responsible for her child's wounds, whether she caused them directly or not."

She took a deep, steadying breath before continuing. "Azriel never learned what real love is. I could never show him. Our war culture certainly couldn’t either. He thinks taking on pain and burden for others is what it's about. Deep down he identifies love with self destruction." Her voice broke and fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. "I had given up hope that anyone could show him differently."

Gwyn's vision blurred as tears filled her own eyes in response. She thought of the gentle, loyal male she knew, who had endured so much hardship and came out still fighting for those he cared for. Who saw the good in a female like her, damaged and broken, and helped her find her own strength again.

"No," Gwyn said, gripping Reina's hands tighter now. "Azriel knows what love is. There is so much of it in his heart, I have seen it… felt it."

Nesta, who had been listening from a distance, now stepped forward "Gwyn is right. I have seen it too."

She moved gracefully over to the two females on the bed, her knees sinking onto the floor as she knelt in front of them. Tenderly she cupped their clutched hands in hers.

Nesta maintained steady eye contact with Gwyn, although it was Reina she addressed. "Your son is one of the kindest males I ever met. Even if you couldn’t show him, he still knew … still felt your love."

Gwyn's eyes glistened as she gazed at Azriel's mother. "He has been nothing but gentle and caring with me either," she said softly. "He saw my pain, my struggles, and never once judged me for them."

Gwyn paused, her voice quivering. "I never believed someone could truly love me, not after..." She trailed off, unable to finish the thought.

Reina reached out and gently squeezed her hands, offering a comforting touch. "Oh my dear..."

Tears spilled down Gwyn's cheeks freely now. "But he did… does." Her voice cracked as she continued.

"At first, he kept his distance, mindful of my past trauma. But even from afar, he was so attentive. And now, looking back, I realize how perfectly he always gave me exactly what I needed."

Reina let out a quiet sob. "He is very sensitive. Even as a child he has always been attuned to the hurts of others." She shook her head sadly. "I should have protected him better from his father."

Gwyn enveloped Azriel's mother in a fierce embrace then. "You raised a wonderful son," she murmured. "A male who is loving and kind, despite the cruelty he endured." Pulling back, Gwyn met Reina's watery gaze. "I have never loved anyone the way I love him. He is...everything to me."

Nesta rose from the floor and wrapped her arms around them both. "We'll find him," she said firmly. "And we'll make whoever took him pay."

—

"I want what I've always wanted." A icy finger trailed down Azriel's cheek. "To be free again."

Azriel tensed, wincing as the cold touch sent pain radiating across his bruised face.

"I don't understand," he ground out. "What does your freedom have to do with me?"

The icy presence retreated with a hiss. "Foolish boy. For someone who calls himself the Spymaster of the most powerful Court of Prythian, you are pathetically blind."

There was a snap, and torches flared to life along the cavern walls. Azriel squinted against the sudden glow, a headache blooming behind his one good eye.

"Look at me," the voice commanded.

Azriel raised his head and beheld his captor for the first time. Before him stood a tall, gaunt figure draped in dark robes. The face was sunken and skull-like, with eyes that burned like blue flame. Azriel's blood turned to ice as recognition dawned.

"Koschei," he breathed.

A smile split the deathless sorcerer's cadaverous face. "Yes. You know my name, yet you fail to comprehend the meaning."

Koschei drifted closer, skeletal hands grasping Azriel's chin in an iron grip. "I have lingered in darkness for too long, bound by her rules. But not much longer."

"Her rules?" Azriel rasped through parched lips, jerking his chin away. "Whose rules?"

Koschei's grin stretched further, unveiling a serrated gallery of teeth.

"The entity responsible for condemning me to this pitiful life eons ago. You refer to her as 'The Mother', I believe," he sneered. "But like most things, her curse can be broken."

The decaying scent of his breath invaded Azriel's space as he moved nearer once more. "Thus, you comprehend, Shadowsinger," he chuckled, "you and your mate are the key."

Azriel went very still, thoughts racing. "I have no mate."

Koschei let out a bone-chilling cackle, the sound reverberating off the damp cave walls.

"Oh, but you do," Koschei rasped. "You know her name, though you fail to see it. She who glows like moonlight, warming your cold heart. With skin that reflects the celestial heavens."

Koschei tilted his head, regarding Azriel with amusement. "The one who pierces the darkness that shrouds your soul. Should I go on?"

Azriel's breath caught, flashes of coppery brown hair and teal eyes swimming before him.

Laughter like bell chimes, a sweet voice raised in song.

Slender hands, delicate yet strong, gripping a sword.

Gwyn.

It was her.

Of course it was her.

How had he not noticed? How had he not seen?

She who had slipped past his defenses so easily, who had burned down all the barricades around his heart. She was the reason he smiled more often, felt lighter despite the ever-present doom over his head. His dreams were filled with her, this captivating creature who saw him as no one else did. Who saw him how he was. Who gave him no reason to hide. Who made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t broken and unworthy.

"Yes, you know now." Koschei's voice was filled with malignant satisfaction.

Rage roared through Azriel, hot and violent. A feral snarl tore from his throat, as he strained against the chains.

"Touch her and I'll kill you," he growled through bared teeth. "I don't care how powerful you are. If you so much as look at her, I'll tear you apart."

Koschei's eyes flashed with cold fury. "Such spirit." His smile turned cruel. "But you are in no position to stop me, Shadowsinger."

Something slammed into his wounded wing and Azriel choked on a scream as white-hot agony exploded through him.

The pain was excruciating, radiating from his mangled wing throughout his entire body. Azriel's vision went white, his head swimming as he struggled not to pass out. He would not give Koschei the satisfaction of seeing him break.

Grinding his teeth so hard they threatened to crack, Azriel focused on steadying his breathing despite the raging inferno of pain. In and out, slow and deep. The roaring in his ears began to fade, the white spots in his vision receding.

As the pain ebbed to a throbbing ache, Azriel became aware of Koschei circling him like a vulture waiting for its prey to die, each step echoing in the vast cavern.

"Not so bold now, are we?" Koschei rasped, skeletal fingers trailing lightly over Azriel's ravaged wings.

The final sensation that pierced his consciousness, before the agony surged once more in dazzling torrents and reality receded into an abyss of darkness, was a chilling chuckle and Koschei's sinister whisper, "Indeed, this will be most enjoyable."

Chapter Text

Cassian stalked through the dense forest, his black boots crushing leaves and twigs with every calculated step. The other two spies crouched in the shadows, tense and ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

Cassian's powerful wings were drawn tight against his muscular frame, red Siphons glinting menacingly at his wrists as he searched for any trace of Eris. His senses were on high alert, honed in on even the slightest hint of his scent or presence.

There. Up ahead, a glimpse of russet hair behind an oak trunk. Cassian bared his teeth.

He found Eris leaning against the tree, inspecting his nails. "You're late," Eris drawled, not bothering to look up.

Cassian resisted the urge to pin Eris to the nearest surface with an iron grip around his throat. "Spit it out," he growled instead. "Where is Azriel?"

At last Eris met his gaze, amber eyes glinting. "My, my. Touchy, aren't we?" A sly smile. "I take it the spymaster's absence has you...concerned."

A primal, guttural growl erupted from deep within Cassian's chest as he lunged forward with lightning speed. His powerful arms caged Eris against the tree, squeezing tightly as his voice dripped with venom.

"What. Do. You. Know."

Eris remained unruffled, a smug smirk on his face. "Always ready to resort to violence. I see your mate has not changed you a single bit."

His gaze turned calculating as he leaned in closer. "My father and Devlon have been rather busy lately, I'm afraid. Secret meetings, hushed conversations. They've captured Azriel and are keeping him somewhere, but I haven't yet discovered where. He's not in our usual interrogation cells."

Cassian felt a surge of cold dread wash over him as he processed the information. "What do you mean you don't know where?" His voice trembled with fear and anger, knowing that Azriel's fate could be sealed if they didn't act quickly.

"Can your feeble mind not comprehend my words? Must I spell it out for you?" Eris' eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he leaned in. "I have no idea where he is."

Cassian's rage boiled over, a primal scream ripping from his throat as he unleashed a torrent of red light. It swarmed and churned around them, the forest groaning and creaking under the sheer force of his power. But even in his blind fury, Cassian's magic avoided touching a single hair on Eris' head.

Amidst the chaos, Eris' voice pierced through Cassian's mind like a knife. His body trembled with fury and his heart beat erratically as he struggled to control his emotions.

When he spoke again, his voice was deathly calm. "If I find you've been lying to me..."

Eris bared his teeth in a menacing snarl. "Threats will get you nowhere, you should know that by now." Then something less hostile flickered over his face "But you have my word: I told you everything I know."

Cassian stared down the male with searing intensity before whirling around, leaves crunching underfoot as he leapt into the sky. He couldn't let himself dwell on his burning hatred for the Autumn Court spawn - he had a shadowsinger to rescue and precious little time to do it. He needed to speak with Rhysand urgently.

...

Cassian's wings beat furiously as he soared toward the House of Wind, clouds parting in his wake.

He cursed under his breath. He needed more information—he couldn't go charging into that viper's nest without knowing exactly where Azriel was being kept and how well guarded he was. A frontal assault would only get them all killed.

If Eris was telling the truth ... Cassian gritted his teeth against the rage boiling in his veins. He should have squeezed the life from that male when he had the chance.

With each wingstroke, a mixture of dread and determination coursed through him.

Azriel. He had to focus on Azriel. His brother was counting on him; counting on all of them. No matter how badly Cassian wanted to wrap his hands around Eris' neck, he would restrain himself for now. For Azriel's sake.

As he landed on the terrace, Gwyn, Rhysand, Nesta, and Reina were already waiting with bated breath, their faces etched with terror and desperation. Emerie had joined them too, her usually composed demeanor shattered.

"Tell us," Rhysand commanded, his voice sharp with urgency.

Cassian took a deep breath, his heart pounding loudly.

"Devlon is involved as we thought," he spat out, his jaw clenching at the mere mention of the traitor's name. "He's working with Beron and they are holding Azriel, but Eris does not know where."

A collective gasp eventually escaped from their lips, and Cassian could see the shock and horror reflected in their wide eyes. But it was Gwyn's reaction that struck him the hardest – her porcelain features contorted with primal pain and untamed fury, her fists clenched at her sides so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Rhysand's expression darkened as he met Cassian's gaze. "I see," he said gravely. "We need a well-thought-out plan to rescue him. Charging into the Autumn Court blindly would be suicide at this point."

Gwyn's eyes blazed like a raging inferno, her voice a low growl. "We can't just sit here while they torture him," she hissed, her desperation palpable. "We need to act now."

Cassian's heart twisted with guilt and anguish as he gazed at Gwyn, understanding the depth of her desperation .

"I know," he murmured, feeling suffocated by the gravity of his decision. "But we need to be smart about this. If we fail, Azriel's fate will be sealed."

"Damn it!" Gwyn snarled. "Every second we waste is another moment of unimaginable suffering for him. We can't afford to wait any longer."

For a heartbeat, the room fell silent, all eyes fixed on her – her chest rising and falling with force as she battled against her emotions.

Rhysand leaned against the cold stone wall, his purple eyes blazing with intensity as they met Gwyn's furious gaze.

"Gwyn," he said calmly, but firm. "I understand your urgency, but we cannot act recklessly. We need precise information about Azriel's location before we make any moves."

Gwyn's fists were clenched so tightly that her knuckles were bloodless, her heart hammering against her ribcage like a trapped bird fighting for its freedom.

"We don't have time for caution, Rhys," she ground out between gritted teeth. "I can feel it … can feel him. We need to act NOW."

"Rushing headlong into danger will not help Azriel," Rhysand reasoned, his tone laced with unyielding authority. "We must be smart about this. We can't risk alerting the whole Autumn Court."

Gwyn's nostrils flared as she stared at him, her body shaking with adrenaline-fueled fury.

Then, with a fierce defiance that burned like wildfire in her teal eyes, she said, "Fine. If you want precision, I'll give you precision." Her words were a challenge, an invitation, a desperate plea for understanding.

She took a bold step forward, the air in the room thickening with an oppressive weight.

"I am of the Autumn Court bloodline," she confessed, her voice trembling with the raw power of truth. "My mother was born there, and though I've never set foot in that place, I have a right to cross its borders safely. I have a right to confront Beron in his own territory."

Her revelation hung in the air, Rhysand's eyes widening with surprise, but he quickly masked it.

"That's too dangerous, Gwyn. We can’t ask that of you," he said, his voice low and tense, each word carefully measured. "You would be risking everything to go there."

But Gwyn couldn't back down now. Her heart was pounding so loud it drowned out all reason. "I'm not asking for your permission," she declared, meeting his gaze head-on.

"For Azriel, I'll do whatever it takes. I'll risk everything." Her conviction rang through the air, as solid and unyielding as the mountains that surrounded them.

Rhysand studied her for a moment, the quiet intensity of his gaze cutting through the room like a blade through silk. Then, with a slow nod, he acquiesced to her plan. "Very well," he murmured, his voice tinged with equal parts pride and trepidation. "We'll use your connection to the Autumn Court to our advantage. But we must proceed with caution still."

Gwyn agreed.

"Well she won’t be going alone," Nesta declared, stepping forward with a fierce glint in her own eyes. "I’ll be by your side and do whatever it takes to bring Azriel home."

"Same here," Emerie chimed in, her voice equally steadfast.

Their words washed over Gwyn like a soothing balm, filling her with a warmth and strength she hadn't realized she desperately needed.

These were her sisters, bound not by blood but by love and a deep understanding of the traumas they had faced. With tears in her eyes, Gwyn whispered her thanks, so grateful for their unwavering support.

Cassian remained motionless, his jaw clenched as he wrestled with conflicting emotions. His wings twitched with pent-up tension as he gazed at Nesta, his love and admiration for her warring with concern and apprehension.

"I will go as well," he finally spoke, breaking the heavy silence that had descended upon them. "I may not be able to cross into their territory without risking high treason, but I will wait at the border and if you do not return by morning, I swear I will charge in without hesitation until I have all of you back."

Chapter Text

Not much later, the Valkyries marched through the Autumn Court, their fighting leathers offering little protection against the biting chill that seeped into their bones.

Cassian paced back and forth along the border, his massive wings twitching with impatience. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to follow them, but he knew that would only lead to violence. He had to give them a chance to extract whatever information they needed from Beron without force.

If he were to cross the border now, uninvited and unannounced as the general of the Night Court, things would turn ugly pretty quick.

The sky was an ominous gray, clouds rolling overhead that promised snow. Cassian glanced up, worry gnawing at his gut. The dropping temperature would only make things more dangerous for the girls. He cursed under his breath, dragging a hand over his face.

Azriel's spies stood silently nearby, faded into the shadows of the trees.

Cassian envied their calm patience, even as he knew it was a facade.

Border or no border, if they did not return in time, he would burn this entire forest down to find them.

Gwyn's heart beat a treacherous rhythm against her ribcage.

It wasn't fear that fueled the speeding, but the primal need to find her mate.

"Remember, we need to make them aware of us," Nesta reminded them, her voice a fierce growl that matched the raw power simmering within her thin frame.

But there was no need for a reminder; Emerie had already slowed her pace, golden eyes glittering with predatory anticipation.

As if conjured by the mere notion of being discovered, Beron's men materialized from the shadows with unearthly grace. They wore cloaks the color of sun-kissed leaves, their intricate designs weaving in and out among the natural surroundings. Each piece of clothing seemed to merge seamlessly with the environment, making them almost invisible to the untrained eye. Their movements were fluid, like a dance of death, as they approached their targets.

"We are the Valkyries and we demand to be taken to your High Lord," Gwyn dictated, chin raised defiantly.

Beron's men hesitated, before one nodded curtly. They surrounded the girls, ensuring no blade or magic could be drawn without consequence, and led them through winding paths that delved deeper into the heart of the court.

Gwyn clenched her jaw tightly as they walked, her fists itching for a fight that had yet to come.

The path they followed was lined with towering trees that seemed to reach up to the sky itself. The leaves were a vibrant shade of orange and red, almost glowing in contrast to the darkening sky.

There surely was beauty in this Court – though it was weighed down by an underlying darkness that permeated every corner.

After what felt like hours of walking through thick brush and over rocky terrain, they finally arrived at a clearing where Beron's grand palace stood tall and imposing against the fading light. It was made entirely of stone and seemed to stretch on for miles in every direction – a fortress more than a home.

As they approached the entrance guarded by two massive doors adorned with intricate carvings depicting scenes from various battles, Emerie let out a low whistle of awe. The sound echoed through the quiet courtyard and drew curious gazes from nearby fae who had been going about their business.

But the Valkyries paid them no attention. Their focus was solely on the looming presence of Beron's palace and the dangerous game they were about to play.

Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie followed their escort inside, their feet echoing off the marble floors and high ceilings. The interior was just as imposing as the exterior, with grand pillars reaching up to support a domed ceiling adorned with more intricate carvings and paintings. But there was an emptiness to the space, as if it lacked any warmth or life.

Beron's men led them through winding corridors until they reached a set of ornately decorated double doors. One of the guards knocked twice before pushing them open to reveal a large throne room.

The Valkyries stood even more straight at the sight that lay before them.

At the far end of the room sat Beron himself, his throne made of dark wood and embellished with gold accents that glinted in the sunlight. He was a tall fae with short brown hair and piercing brown eyes that seemed to take in every inch of his guests.

Surrounding him were his courtiers, all dressed in lavish garments that reflected their status. They whispered among themselves at the sight of the girls, some curious while others looked at them with disdain.

But it was the women to his right who caught Gwyn's attention.

She stood with graceful poise, her hands folded delicately in front of her. Dressed in an ornate gown of burnt umber and deep orange, the colors of fallen leaves.

Her exquisitely colored porcelain skin was sprinkled with the faintest touch of brown freckles over her cheeks. She had auburn hair pinned up in an elegant twist, though a few stray wisps framed her face. Her eyes were a warm russet brown, yet they lacked any spark of happiness or joy.

Gwyn could see the resemblance between this fae woman and her own mother. The shape of her eyes, the curve of her lips...it was all too familiar.

And this could only be the Lady of the Autumn Court, Beron's wife.

The Lady's gaze met Gwyn's, something like recognition flashing briefly across her features before her expression smoothed into careful neutrality. Gwyn wondered if she was the only one who noticed the subtle change.

Beron's voice boomed through the hall, commanding everyone's attention. "What insolence, for Night Court whelps to trespass in my domain." His lip curled in disgust as he looked over each of them.

Gwyn straightened, ready to make her stand despite Beron's intimidating presence. She would fight for her mate no matter the cost.

Stepping forward, she met Beron's fiery glare with steely resolve. "We have come for the Spymaster of the Night Court, High Lord," she declared, her voice ringing through the silent hall. "We demand his release immediately."

Beron's eyes narrowed, his weathered face creasing into a scowl. "I know not of what you speak, girl," he spat. "I have no Night Court prisoners here."

"Do not play games with us," Gwyn said, her fury barely restrained. "We know you have taken him."

At her side, Nesta and Emerie tensed visibly. The Autumn Court members assembled watched the confrontation warily, some with hands on their weapons.

Beron rose from his carved wooden throne, power radiating from him. "You dare accuse me of such crimes in my own court?" he thundered. "I could have you gutted for your insolence."

Beron's fiery glare bore into Gwyn, but she met it unflinchingly. "Who are you even?"

"I am Gwyneth Berdara," she declared. "And I make no accusations, my lord," she said evenly. "Merely state facts."

Beron halted a good distance in front of her, scowling.

"Even if I did have the Spymaster, what makes you think you have any claim on him, girl?" Beron sneered.

Gwyn lifted her chin. "I have every claim, by the ancient laws. He is my mate."

She took a deep breath before she continued. "So I ask again nicely, as a descendant of the Autumn Court myself. Release him."

The entire room seemed to still, as if the very air had frozen in place. All eyes turned to Gwyn, shock rippling through the gathered courtiers like a stone cast into a tranquil pond.

Beron's face contorted in rage at Gwyn's words. "Lies!" he bellowed. "No kin of mine would mate with a bastard Illyrian."

He stalked towards Gwyn, murder in his eyes. But before he could reach her, the Lady of the Autumn Court rose swiftly from her chair.

"Husband, wait," she called out, her voice soft yet firm.

Beron halted, casting his wife a scathing look. "Do not interfere, woman," he growled.

But the Lady walked steadily towards Gwyn, gazing at her intently. Without warning, she grasped Gwyn's hand and sliced her palm with a sharpened fingernail. Gwyn winced but did not pull away as the Lady brought her bloodied hand to her mouth, tasting it.

Her eyes went wide, and she turned slowly to face her husband once more.

"It is true, my lord," she said quietly. "The girl carries my brother's bloodline. She speaks the truth."

A shocked silence fell over the room. Beron stared at his wife in disbelief.

"Your wretched brother, nobody knows of?" Beron spat.

He whirled on Gwyn. "Even if what you say is true, you are entitled to nothing, half breed. Your beloved mate is not here."

Gwyn trembled with fury, but the Lady grasped her shoulder gently.

"Calm down, child," she murmured. Then, raising her voice, "Husband, I beseech you. Consider the implications and release their Spymaster. There has been enough bloodshed between our Courts."

Beron's lip curled in contempt. But before he could respond, Eris stepped forward.

"Father, please listen to Mother's counsel," he said evenly. "The Night Court will not take kindly to our-"

"Silence!" Beron thundered, and the word snapped through the room like a whip.

"Take them to the dungeons," he finally spat. "We'll see how long their insolence lasts."

Rough hands grabbed the girls and dragged them away.

Gwyn exhaled sharply as the cell door slammed shut, leaving them in total darkness.

It was cold, damp, and reeked of mold and misery down here.

She shivered, drawing her knees to her chest as she sat on the hard stone floor.

They had failed. Failed to find Azriel, failed to reason with Beron. And they were losing more and more time. Gwyn's heart constricted at the thought.

"That arrogant bastard," Nesta seethed. "Who does he think he is?"

Emerie just sighed, the sound weary. "He's the High Lord, Nesta. He can do as he pleases here."

Nesta paced the small cell relentlessly.

"We have to get out of here," she said, testing the heavy iron door for any weaknesses. It didn't budge.

Gwyn sighed as well, dropping her head into her hands. She thought of the Lady's sad eyes, the only flicker of compassion they'd seen in this godsforsaken place.

In front of her, Nesta cursed. Gwyn could feel the crackling energy rolling off of her, could sense her rage like a physical force in the small space. She knew she was worried for Cassian, hoping he wouldn't storm the castle gates.

Nesta's steel-gray eyes became hard with determination. "I'm gonna summon the mask."

"No," Gwyn said sharply. "Remember what happened last time?" She bit her lip, tears pricking her eyes as she thought of the destruction the mask had caused, she couldn’t lose Nesta too.

Emerie slid down beside Gwyn, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "She is right. We'll have to find another way," she murmured.

Gwyn's thoughts drifted back to Azriel, wondering if he was locked away somewhere in these very dungeons. She desperately hoped he was okay. Her heart ached at the thought of him injured or in pain. If only she could reach out to him, detect him somehow with the bond, but there was nothing.

Then … a scraping sound at the door made them all freeze. Gwyn leapt to her feet, exchanging worried glances with her friends as Nesta and Emerie positioned themselves defensively at the door.

The heavy door creaked open slowly. Gwyn steeled herself for a fight, her fists clenched. But instead of the leering guards they expected, a petite female figure slipped inside.

It was the Lady of the Autumn Court.

"You must hurry," she whispered urgently. "There's a hidden passage just down the corridor. It will take you outside the manor walls undetected."

Gwyn shook her head, jaw set stubbornly. "I can't leave without Azriel."

The Lady sighed, eyes filled with sadness. "My husband spoke the truth. He is not in the Autumn Court anymore. Devlon took him elsewhere and I know not where to."

The words echoes through Gwyn's mind like a thunderclap, shattering the fragile hope she had tried to maintain.

“NO.” It ripped through Gwyn's chest, claws of panic digging into her heart as she realized the magnitude of the situation. Was that the reason why it felt so silent on the other side of the bond. Because … because he was already lost?

Gwyn's body began to tremble. She had hoped she could claw her way out of this nightmare, find Azriel and bring him home. But now she was back to square one. Not even that… she had no indication on where Devlon was or where he had taken Azriel.

A hand reached out to grip Gwyn's face gently, shaking her out of her thoughts.

"I know this is hard," the Lady's voice was soft and understanding, but it couldn't dull the sharp pain in Gwyn's chest. "But he is not here. You must gather your strength and leave this place if you wish to remain any hope of saving him."

With one final look at her, Gwyn turned to her friends and they all followed the petite woman through the secret passage. The corridor was dark and damp and they could hear voices echoing from somewhere in the distance.

"Where does this passage lead?" Emerie whispered as they continued down the winding tunnel.

"To an abandoned warehouse outside the manor walls," the Lady replied, leading them through a hidden door that opened up into another dimly lit room filled with dusty crates and old furniture.

Once the girls were safely inside, the Lady of the Court turned to Gwyn one last time.

"I will do everything I can to find out where they've taken your mate," she vowed, her eyes shining with kindness and regret.

"Had I known my brother had a daughter, I would have made sure you and your mother were cared for. You look so much like him."

She stroked Gwyn's cheek tenderly. "I wished we had more time together. But you must go now, and quickly. On the other side is another door. Go through and then keep walking."

Drawing Gwyn into a fierce embrace, the Lady whispersed, "Find him and bring him home. You have the fire of the Autumn Court within you. Let it guide your way."

With a final squeeze, she released Gwyn and stepped back. Gwyn's eyes burned with tears as she nodded.

The woman was correct; she couldn't give up now.

Gwyn turned to follow Nesta and Emerie through the door on the other side of the room, silently sending a prayer to the Mother. She didn't dare look back, determined to keep her focus solely on the path ahead.

Chapter Text

Azriel had been drifting in and out of consciousness, the waves of pain ebbing and flowing like the tide. He wasn't sure how much time had passed - hours, days, weeks, it all blurred together in a haze of agony like his memories.

And when awareness returned, it came slower and slower each time.

With great effort, Azriel dragged himself back from the brink once more.

Slowly, he pried his good eye open. The world was a blur of shadow and stone. He blinked sluggishly, trying to clear his vision. The shapes remained obstinately vague.

Where was he? The question drifted through his mind like smoke, formless and ephemeral. Memories slid away whenever he reached for them.

He blinked slowly, willing his vision to focus. The hazy chamber came into view, shadows flickering in the dim light. He sucked in a ragged breath, biting back a groan as pain ricocheted through his body.

The events leading to his imprisonment crept back in fractured pieces… again.

The Illyrians ambushing him on the mountain path. Drugged faebane arrows piercing his wings, sending him crashing to the ground. Devlon's leering face as he slammed a boot into Azriel's ribs again and again.

The Autumn Court dungeons. Beron's smug smile as he gave the order to start the interrogations. Days - weeks? - of torment as they tried to rip information from him. Always the same questions, over and over.

His wing - or what remained of it. Even the slightest movement sent white-hot pokers of pain radiating through the ravaged joints and bones.

He tried to keep breathing even, feigning continued unconsciousness. He needed to take stock, to gather any scraps of information that might aid in formulating some kind of escape plan.

The bonds binding his wrists remained secure. He gave an experimental tug, biting back a groan as they thightened only further into his already shredded skin.

Right, they were magical. Another thought instantly pierced his mind, sending a spike of adrenaline through Azriel's veins.

Koschei.

As if summoned by his very thought, footsteps echoed faintly across the cave. Azriel forced his body to go limp, keeping his breaths deep and steady. The shuffling steps grew louder, accompanied by a dry rasping sound he now recognized as Koschei's laughter.

"I know you're awake, Shadowsinger," the deathless creature crooned.

Azriel remained silent, eyes closed. He would not give Koschei the satisfaction of a response.

"Come now, let's not play games." A cold laughter echoed through the cave.

Koschei clicked his tongue. "Fine. Have it your way, then."

Images began to take shape against the back of his eyelids. Glimpses at first, of copper hair glinting in candlelight, teal eyes bright with laughter. Then longer flashes - Gwyn training in the rings, the elegant sweep of her sword catching the dawn light. Gwyn seated at a table, head bent intently over a book. Her face captured in repose as she slept, lips slightly parted, lashes fanned across her cheekbones.

The images came faster, inescapably vivid. Gwyn spinning in time to music only she could hear, arms extended as if embraced by an invisible partner. The arch of her neck as she drank from a glass, slender throat rippling. Strong, callused fingers deftly unbraiding her hair. The curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts ...

Azriel strained against the images, trying desperately to shut them out, to protect these precious glimpses of Gwyn from Koschei's malignant gaze. But it was no use. Koschei's magic sunk deeper, ruthlessly dredging up every private moment, every unguarded glance, every stolen longing.

And then the visions changed. Still Gwyn, but now her face was drawn in fear, eyes wide with terror. Azriel was forced to watch helpless as faceless specters pursued her, their shadowy forms engulfing her until she was lost from view.

The visions shifted again. Gwyn pinned down by hulking, misshapen creatures, sobbing as they tore at her clothes, crying out for him.

Azriel thrashed against his bonds, bellowing in fury and anguish until his own blood started dripping again steadily to the ground.

But the pain was nothing compared to the agony of watching Gwyn being violated again and again before his eyes, her whimpers and cries echoing in his ears.

He knew these visions weren't real, that Koschei was feeding off his reaction, using Gwyn's image to torture him. But it didn't matter - seeing her like this, was more excruciating than anything Azriel had physically endured.

"Stop!" he roared, chest heaving, as the word tore from his parched throat. "Stop it, you bastard!"

The visions melted away, leaving only Koschei's satisfied chuckle ringing in the darkness.

"Finally," the gravelly voice purred. "You grace me with your charming presence."

Azriel opened his eye, jaw clenched against the rage and shame coursing through him.

He continued, his lips curving into a bone-chilling grin, "It's rather discourteous, you know, to leave your host hanging for such an extended period."

Azriel gritted his teeth, willing his fury into check. "My deepest apologies for the terrible inconvenience," he rasped, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Had I known I would be honored by an invitation to your lovely abode, I would have arrived in better shape."

Koschei's laughter echoed off the damp stone walls. "No need for insincerity. I know you've been rather...detained. And in no state to accept my hospitality." His smile turned cruel. "Though it seems your friends were eager to deliver you to me, gift-wrapped and barely breathing."

Azriel coughed. "How...how am I even alive?" he croaked out.

It had been endless days - weeks maybe - since he had last eaten or drunk anything. By all accounts, he should have perished long ago. Yet somehow his body continued on, like sustained by some kind of magic.

"Now, now," Koschei tutted. "I've waited centuries for you. Do you really believe I would let you slip away so easily?"

His smile turned predatory. "Fear not, my dear Shadowsinger. I'll ensure your life's flame flickers until the arrival of your beloved mate."

Azriel's blood turned to ice at the mention of her, fear and terror rising in his gut, though he fought to keep his face an impassive mask.

He could not understand how Koschei knew of Gwyn's existence, let alone that she was his mate, when he himself had not realized the truth until Koschei had mentioned it.

"What do you want from her?" Azriel demanded.

"Don’t concern yourself with that." Koschei said, still smiling.

Azriel strained against his bonds, murder in his flashing eyes. "Touch her and I'll -"

"You'll what?" Koschei took a step back, regarding Azriel with those depthless eyes of his. "This is proving to be more amusing than I had foreseen. I do relish an unexpected twist."

Azriel ignored his musing. "How?" He bit out. "How did you know?"

Koschei tilted his head, his corpse-white skin glinting horribly in the dim light. "Oh, my friend..."

He leaned in close to Azriel then, close enough for him to smell the stench of decay on his breath.

"I confess, it surprised me that you had not yet realized it yourself. But then again, you have always been...obstinate about such things, haven’t you Shadowsinger?"

Koschei's elongated finger, tipped with a sharp nail, traced a chilling path down Azriel's cheek. Azriel recoiled instinctively from the repulsive contact. There was an undeniable edge to Koschei's voice whenever he mentioned 'Shadowsinger', an emphasis that hinted at some deep-seated issue he had with the term. But Azriel wasn’t ready to ask just yet.

"Oh, I have known for quite some time that you were part of the key to break my curse."

Koschei began to pace, the hem of his tattered robes whispering against the cold stone floor. "But it was not until you joined your magic with hers at Ramiel that the final piece fell into place." He paused, inclining his head thoughtfully.

"Such power, when your shadows mingled with her light. I felt it - we all felt it."

Azriel's breath caught in his throat. Gwyn. Koschei knew about Gwyn’s powers.

Koschei laughed cruelly again. "Oh yes, I know all about the little priestess' powers. Did you think it would go unnoticed when someone with her gifts entered the world?"

He leaned in close again. "But I know about your power too," he whispered and ice cold shivers washed down Azriel's spine.

He was trying to make sense of the god's cryptic words. What about his powers?

"Such a fool," he taunted, leaning back to study Azriel's face. "Not even knowing the full potential of his own magic."

The sorcerer's eyes took on a manic gleam.

"Tell me - Shadowsinger - , have you never wondered why there is no true definition for your kind in the history books of Prythian?"

Azriel tensed but remained silent, schooling his features. In truth, the lack of kowledge about ‘Shadowsingers’ was something he had pondered many times over the centuries.

Koschei continued, purring low . "No stories, no lore, no tales of any Illyrian or High Fae before you who could wield the same power over darkness and shadow? Because there were none. Your magic is unique. A gift from the Mother herself."

Azriel's brows furrowed in confusion and Koschei laughed.

"Ah, I see I have piqued your interest now. Yes, the Mother saw your loneliness as a child, saw the pain that surrounded you even then. And she granted you a special gift - the shadows that keep you company, that bend to your very will."

Koschei reached out a long, skeletal finger and trailed it down the scars on Azriel's hand.

"She wished to give you friends, companions - so you would never be alone again."

Azriel's mind reeled as he processed Koschei's words.

He had never considered his shadows’ origin before. They had always simply been a part of him.

He thought back to his childhood, when they first manifested. He had been so young, scared and alone in the dark cell his father kept him in. The shadows had appeared then, whispering comfort and promises of friendship. They had kept him company through the long, lonely nights.

Azriel's eyes widened with realization. The shadows weren't just a manifestation of his power - they were living entities gifted by a goddess... THE goddess.

"Much like your mate." Koschei withdrew his hand, breathing in deeply, as if he needed the oxygen. "The Mother saw the loneliness in her heart as well. Saw the trauma she endured and she granted her her light."

Azriel's mind spun as the pieces fell into place. Gwyn's strange new abilities, the way she glowed when she used her power, the warmth and light that filled Azriel whenever she was near. It all made sense now.

"Just as the radiance of light cannot exist without the darkness to define it, so too the shadow cannot take form without the illumination that casts it. You two are not just mates, but two sides of the Mother's magic."

After a long moment, Koschei finally finished. "Combined, your power is unlike anything else. It holds the potential to break any curse that has ever been laid upon the lands. Just as you have undone the magic on those monsters at Ramiel."

A surge of disbelief rippled through Azriel, his eyes visibly dilating despite the dim light. This was all too much to comprehend.

Koschei drew nearer again, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his fleshless lips. "The Mother had plans for you to shape the fate of Prythian. I, however, have plans of my own..."

Chapter Text

Gwyn fell to her knees as soon as they reached the ground of the training ring, her body quaking with sobs. She clutched at the fabric over her chest, as if she could tear her heart from her rib cage.

Azriel. Azriel. The name echoed in her skull, a prayer and plea.

Nesta and Emerie were at her side in an instant, their hands smoothing down her back, their soft murmurs a balm. But it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough until—

Until he was home. Until she could see those golden eyes again, trace the scars along his hands. Until she could tell him—

Gwyn bit into her fist, choking on a scream. She couldn't lose him. Not after everything. Not after she'd finally let him in.

"We'll get him back," Cassian vowed from where he stood at the doorway. His eyes were hard as stone, his jaw clenched. "I swear it."

But Devlon had him, the gods only knew where. That malevolent bastard had Azriel, was probably torturing him, and she was too weak to stop it. Too weak, and too slow, and—

Another sob racked her body as Nesta and Emerie curled around her, a cocoon of warmth and comfort. But she couldn't relax into it. Wouldn't.

Not until Azriel was home.

She tore from their embrace and stumbled to her feet, wiping at her eyes. "We have to find him." Her voice broke on the last word. "We have to—"

"We will," Cassian promised again. His eyes softened. "But you need to rest first."

Gwyn shook her head wildly. "There's no time. You don't understand, he'll—" Her throat closed up. She couldn't say the words. Couldn't voice the horrific images flickering through her mind.

Azriel, broken and bleeding. Screaming in agony as his wings were shredded from his back.

A fresh wave of nausea rolled through her, and Gwyn barely made it to the nearest basin before sickness overtook her.

Nesta was instantly there, gathering back her hair. "Easy," she soothed. "Just breathe."

But Gwyn couldn't breathe. Wouldn't breathe until Azriel was back where he belonged.

With her.

"It's my fault," Gwyn choked out between sobs, her tears streaming down her cheeks like rivers of despair. "I shouldn’t have let him go. I should have listened to my instincts."

Cassian shook his head firmly, stepping closer. His warm hand enveloped hers. "You can't blame yourself, Gwyn. None of us saw this coming."

"Time is running out," she whispered, her voice trembling with urgency. "I can feel it, deep within my soul."

Rhys, who had appeared out of nowhere, placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "We'll find him, Gwyn. I promise you that. But we need to be smart about this."

If he repeated those words one more time...

"Easy for you to say," Gwyn snapped, her desperation bubbling to the surface. "Since it isn't your mate we're talking about!"

"Gwyn," Cassian interjected, his voice stern yet gentle. "We're all worried about Azriel, but tearing each other apart won't bring him back any faster."

She took a ragged breath, her eyes locking onto Cassian's unwavering gaze.

"Please, just tell me you have a plan," Gwyn implored, her voice breaking as she clung to the hope that Rhysand knew what the next step would look like.

"Amren," Rhys raked a hand through his hair, and she realized this was the most discomposed she had ever seen the High Lord. "She might know of detection spells or other methods we haven't considered yet. I'll speak to her immediately."

———

Gwyn woke as the first rays of dawn peeked through the towering windows of her room. For a moment, she simply stared at the pale light, unsure of how she had ended up here with Nesta and Emerie sleeping soundly on either side of her.

Then it all came rushing back— Azriel's disappearance, the confrontation with Beron, the emptiness in her chest, her breaking down, puking her guts out ...

She lurched upright, heart pounding.

Gwyn quietly slipped out of bed and changed into a clean tunic and leggings, taking care not to make any noise that would disturb the girls' slumber.

She did not bother to comb or braid her hair.

Silently, she made her way through the corridors of the House of Wind until she arrived at the dining room, where she could hear hushed voices.

Rhys and Cassian were hunched over a map of Prythian, deep in conversation.

At the sound of her entrance, they both looked up. Rhys's eyes were grave. "Gwyn," he said softly. "How are you feeling?"

She ignored the question, crossing the room in a few quick strides. "Did Amren discover anything that could help us track Azriel?"

Rhys and Cassian exchanged a glance. Rhys said, "She is still working on it. These spells take time, and—"

"We don't have time!" Gwyn shouted, fists clenching at her sides. "Every moment we waste is another moment he suffers. Tell me you have something, anything, that could lead us to him."

Rhys sighed. "Amren was able to determine that Azriel is still alive, though she could not pinpoint his exact location. He does not seem to be in Prythian anymore."

Cassian's face was grim. "He might be in the human lands."

"But why?" Gwyn asked again, tears filling her eyes.

Rhys's violet eyes were full of sympathy, when he told her that they did not know.

Gwyn buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

She had to find him. Had to bring him home. He had suffered enough pain already - she couldn't let him face more alone.

Looking up with blazing determination, she asked, "What can I do? How can I help?"

Rhys gave her a sad smile. "For now, we wait for Amren."

Cassian gripped her shoulder. "Az is tough. He'll hold on until we get there."

Gwyn wiped her tears, clinging to that hope.

———

Nesta's light snores filled the room. Emerie mumbled in her sleep, her arm draped over Gwyn's waist.

Gwyn lay stiff as a board, feigning sleep while her heart thundered. She waited until she was sure both of them were fast asleep, before she dared to move.

With slow, careful movements, she slid out from under Emerie's arm. Nesta snorted but didn't wake. Gwyn tiptoed across the floor, grabbing a cloak to ward off the nighttime chill.

The House of Wind was silent as Gwyn crept through its halls. Darkness lurked in every corner, as she descended down into the lower levels, but for once it didn't frighten her.

Not as the crushing, suffocating grip of terror fueled her as she imagined a life without him. Every other emotion simply dimmed in comparison.

At last she arrived at her destination - the wishing well.

The chamber was a mirror image of her previous visit, the waters pulsing with a supernatural luminescence that threw ghostly silhouettes against the stone walls. Yet, there was one significant difference - last time she had been here, she wasn’t alone.

Azriel.

So much had changed since then.

Gwyn's heart thudded against her ribcage, each beat threatening to burst out of her chest. She gripped the small coin tightly in her palm, the metal edges digging into her skin. With a deep breath, she stepped forward and approached the fountain, preparing to make her wish.

Her voice trembled slightly, but her resolve remained strong.

"Mother," Gwyn whispered. "I'm not sure how this works… if I can only wish once. But if that's the case... please, erase my first wish and count this one instead."

She paused for a moment, her eyes glistening with unshed tears as she continued, the words pouring from her soul.

"Azriel's life is more important. He is everything to me... and I need him to be safe. Please, ..."

Tears choked her voice as she spoke, her next words coming out in a broken sob, "just let me find him."

With a deep breath, she tossed the coin into the well, watching as it disappeared beneath the rippling surface. Her heart thrummed with hope, even as doubt gnawed at the edges of her mind. But as she stared into the depths of the enchanted waters, Gwyn felt the same rush of magic wash over her, as the last time she had been down here.

"Please," she whispered one final time, her voice barely audible above the gentle lapping of the water. "Bring him back to me."

"Gwyneth."

The unusual soft, melodic voice calling her name startled Gwyn out of her thoughts. Whirling around, she found herself face-to-face with Merrill.

"Merrill?" Gwyn gasped in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The white haired female offered her a smile as she drifted closer, but it did not seem sincere. It rather felt like the gesture of a hunter who was trying to coax its quarry into a deceptive safety.

"I've been searching for you." She paused, "I know where the Shadowsinger is."

"You do?" Gwyn's eyes went wide, hope and fear swirling within their teal depths.

Merrill nodded, coming to stand before her. "I do. And I can take you to him."

"How?" Gwyn asked incredulously.

"In this realm, magic takes countless forms," Merrill conveyed, her tone layered with cryptic undertones. "And I have dabbled in a significant number of them."

As though her statement was a satisfactory explanation, Merrill offered no additional details.

And really, a sense of foreboding should have stirred within Gwyn latest now, or at the absence of her usual biting retort, but her mind was consumed by thoughts of Azriel and the prospect of bringing him home.

"Ok." Gwyn nodded, nearly trembling with anticipation.

"Come quick then," Merrill urged, glancing anxiously over her shoulder into the dark tunnels. "We must leave at once."

Gwyn hesitated, biting her lip. Every instinct of hers now screamed that something was not right here.

"Shouldn't we tell the others? Nesta and Cassian and..."

"There's no time," Merrill interrupted, her melodic voice hardening ever so slightly. "Azriel's life hangs by a thread. We must go to him now."

The thought of Azriel, hurt or dying, made her push aside any doubts in an instant.

And as Merrill turned swiftly, beckoning for her to come along, Gwyn followed without looking back.

Chapter Text

Merrill had winnowed them to what seemed like a cave, using a combination of a transportation charm and an ancient spell.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and decay. Shadows swirled around her as Gwyn blinked, trying to adjust her eyesight to the gloom.

Stone walls pressed close, carved with strange symbols and sigils she couldn't decipher.

And then her gaze found him - Azriel.

He was chained against the far wall.

Bile rose in her throat. His face was a mess of bruises, one eye swollen shut. A jagged gash ran down his cheek. But it was his wing that made her stomach clench—one hung limp and twisted, parts hacked off.

Gwyn hurried over to him, taking quick steps. She ran her finger along his unblemished cheek and down to his neck, searching for a pulse. Though she could feel that he was alive, she needed the reassurance of a steady beat under her thumb. His shadows danced around them uncontrollably. "Azriel." Her voice cracked as she spoke his name. He remained still. She shook her head violently, tears streaming down her cheeks as she surveyed the damage again. His wing would likely need to be amputated once they returned to Velaris.

"It's me, Az," Gwyn breathed out, her voice trembling. "I'm here."

Azriel squinted as he felt the grip of consciousness pulling him back.

A searing ache throbbed behind his eyes, and his chest constricted with each shallow breath. He wasn't sure if he was dreaming or hallucinating.

The shadows twisted and swirled around him, growing more and more agitated, urging him to wake up.

Then … a flare of warmth brushed his cheek.

Azriel's eyes snapped open.

Gwyn.

Tears glistened on her lashes as she stood before him, her hands cupping his face.

Her scent hit him hard and comforting. But it wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be here. No, no.

Panic seized his heart in a vise of ice. No. Not her. Not here. This was a trap.

He rasped, "You need to go, Gwyn." Even those few words were agony on his raw throat. "Leave."

Gwyn shook her head, her eyes fierce. "I won't leave you." Her hands slid down to his shoulders, squeezing gently. "We're getting out of here together, or not at all."

Azriel bit back a groan at the flare of pain in his wing. He pleaded, "Please, Gwyn."

She reached up to stroke his swollen cheek. "I'm not leaving without you."

The panic he felt was so severe that Azriel found more strength to warn her. "Gwyn, you need to leave," desperation lacing each syllable. "This is a trap. You must go before he comes back."

"Who are you talking about?" she asked, her voice trembling. "Devlon?"

Azriel winced, quickly averting his gaze and scanning their surroundings. "No time to explain. You need to leave. Now."

Gwyn's heart pounded fiercely in her chest as she turned to Merrill, desperation lacing her voice.

"Come," Gwyn pleaded, tears streaming down her cheeks, as she began tugging on the invisibale chains that tied Azriel to the spot. "Help me free him."

But Merrill remained frozen, her eyes flickering with an unreadable emotion. It was then that a malicious dread washed over Gwyn, causing her blood to run cold and the hairs on her arms to stand.

"Merrill?" she stared at the priestess in front of her, while Azriel was practically shouting at her to run.

A sinister chuckle echoed through the space, but it wasn’t Merrill’s.

A tall, cloaked figure materialized from the cavern walls. Suddenly, torches illuminated the place with a dim light, and Gwyn came face to face with a skull-like visage, its only sign of life being the eerie blue flames flickering in its eyes.

"Please don't run," the figure pleaded, "I'm so eager to get to know you better, Gwyneth Berdara." His words were like a seductive purr.

And with a twist of his hands, red magic snapped around her, binding her as Azriel was bound to the opposite wall.

Azriel let out an ear-piercing scream, as if it were not just coming from his throat but from deep within his soul, as Gwyn shrieked in pain and fury, thrashing against her restraints.

Merrill looked slightly uncomfortable but then Koschei turned to her, gently stroking her cheek, "Well done."

And Merrill bowed.

"Let her go," Azriel growled, tugging on his own invisible bindings hard, ignoring the pain it caused.

He knew it was a lost case, but he needed to try anyway.

Koschei's smile was a twisted, ugly thing.

"And why would I do that, Shadowsinger? I thought I had explained how crucial she is to my plans."

"I'll never give you what you want," Gwyn spat at him, her eyes blazing with defiance.

Koschei's smile only widened into a sneer. "Oh, but you will," he taunted, taking a step closer to Azriel who flinched at the look on Koschei’s lifeless face.

"I have a knack for acquiring my heart's desires."

Then, an excruciating pain like none Azriel had ever experienced washed over him. It was as though his very marrow was being wrenched from his bones and he howled in torment.

"STOP!" Gwyn screamed. "STOP!"

Tears welled up in her eyes as she watched her mate suffer.

"Stop this," she begged again, sobbing properly now. "Please stop hurting him."

Merrill suddenly stepped forward, hesitation clouding her blue eyes. "You claimed you wouldn't hurt them."

Koschei whirled on her, ancient rage twisting his gaunt features. "I do not require your counsel any longer," he hissed. "You may take your leave."

Merrill's eyes widened, but she stood her ground. "This was not what we agreed on," she implored.

With a snarl, Koschei flung out a skeletal hand. Merrill cried out as she was forecfully sucked backwards out of the cave, as if caught in an undertow. Her screams echoed and then faded, leaving only silence.

Gwyneth stared after her in horror. Then her gaze found Azriel's, whose expression was strained with exertion and agony.

Koschei turned to them with an eager glint.

"Now then, where were we?"

Gwyn glared at the ancient creature in front of her, torn between fear and anger.

"What exactly is it you want from me?" she demanded, forcing steel into her voice.

Koschei tilted his head, regarding her curiously. "Want? My dear, it is not about what I want but rather what I need."

He glided closer, robes whispering along the damp stone floor. "I am a god of death, yet I have been cursed to dwell here, bound to this miserable lake."

Bitterness laced his words. "The one who claimed to love me did not understand my nature. I must take life, but she refused to allow it."

Koschei reached out, presenting his hand to Gwyn as if offering a courteous greeting. "Forgive my lack of manners. I am Koschei, perhaps you have heard of me?"

His lipless mouth curved in a gruesome approximation of a smile.

Gwyn’s eyes widenend as realization sank in.

"How thoughtless of me," he chortled, as if only now remembering that Gwyn was chained and couldn’t return the gesture.

Not that she would have even if she wasn't restrained.

"Fear not. I intend no malice, yet I am in dire need of both your and your mate's essence to liberate myself. He knows now, by the way."

A whirlwind of different emotions hit her at his words, but her initial instinct was to turn to Azriel.

His face was still contorted with pain, the dirt and dust on his cheeks smudged from where tears had fallen.

Judging by the way he looked at her, it must be true. He knew they were mates.

Yet she couldn't decipher how he felt about it, if it made him happy or if he was disappointed.

But now was certainly not the time to dwell on that.

"Essence?" she asked Koschei, tearing her eyes away from Azriel. "You mean to kill us?"

Koschei tilted his head, considering. "Not kill, no. Merely...drain you off your magic."

Gwyn narrowed her eyes. "What will likely destroy us."

"A risk I'm willing to take," Koschei said with a careless shrug.

Fury rose within Gwyn, and she welcomed it, letting it chase away her fear. She would not cower before this creature. Instead she let it rise and with it her power.

She could feel it simmering under her skin, but each time she reached for it, it slipped away.

"Come on," she gritted through clenched teeth. "Come on!"

The chains began to rattle as she pulled at her magic, willing it up and out. A soft glow emanated from her skin.

Just when it seemed she might break free, Koschei laughed, a cold and empty sound. "Futile effort, girl."

He made a twisting motion with his fingers and the chains grew painfully tight, cutting into Gwyn's wrists and ankles. She cried out as her magic was forced back down, the glow dying from her skin.

"Did you really think it would be so easy?" Koschei taunted. "I have had millenniums to hone my skills. No mere Fae, even one with your potential, can match my power."

Gwyneth slumped in her bonds, defeated. A sob caught in her throat as despair threatened to overwhelm her.

Then she felt Azriel's shadows curl around her, cool and comforting. She looked over at him and saw the silent encouragement in his eyes.

"Why us?" she demanded.

Koschei pondered out loud, "Why you?" He then explained,"My dear, it is nothing personal. It's just that the Mother has chosen to bless you with a spark of her own magical powers."

His hollow eye sockets remained fixed on Gwyn as he continued, revealing more information about their situation. "And you see, it was your goddess, the Mother, who bound me here."

Gwyn's thoughts raced as she tried to make sense of all this.

He prowled closer, caressing her cheek with a long, skeletal finger. Gwyneth recoiled from his touch, repressing a shudder.

"I have waited centuries for you," he purred.

Azriel snarled, straining against the bonds. "Don't touch her!"

Koschei's laughter echoed around the cave, a chilling, guttural sound. "Still so much fight left in you, Shadowsinger," he taunted. "I was under the impression I had sufficiently silenced your spirit."

Suddenly, he released his magical hold on Azriel and the Shadowsinger crashed to the floor with a thud and a groan of agony.

Gwyn’s own bonds disappeared. "Go to your mate," Koschei rasped, waving a dismissive hand at her.

Which she didn’t need to be told twice.

She rushed to Azriel's side, trying to help him into a more upright position.

However, every time she touched him, he let out sharp hisses of pain; his body clearly wrecked from all the torture.

Gwyn’s heart clenched at seeing him like this.

With great care, she held his head in her hands, gazing into his hazy eye.

"We are together," she whispered. "That is all that matters."

Azriel's lips twitched in a faint smile.

Koschei sighed happily, claiming nonchalantly that he could not wait to be free of this stench of decay and rotting moss. One would think that there were more important things to focus on once free after such a long imprisonment, but no. It was the constant damp and fungal odor that had annoyed him most about being bound here.

Then he turned his attention fully back on them, expression having turned deadly cold.

"Now, let us begin."

Koschei raised his arms, and dark power began swirling around the cave. Gwyn's hair whipped around her face as the energy built, a low thrumming filling the air. She clutched Azriel tighter, shielding his weakened body with her own.

The power coalesced into pulsing black tendrils that snaked towards them. Gwyn gritted her teeth as the first tendril met her skin. It was like being plunged into an icy lake, shocking and painfully cold.

More tendrils wrapped around her, siphoning away her magic and life force.

For a brief moment, it appeared as though Azriel's shadows were fighting against their attackers. However, eventually they started fading and then disappeared altogether.

Beside her, Azriel spasmed, the draining effects clearly worsening his injuries.

Gwyn held him close, tears pricking her eyes as she felt him trembling. She would give anything to spare him this agony.

The tendrils tightened, a terrible pressure building in her chest. Her vision blurred, and she realized with horror that her clothes were dissolving, leaving her naked and exposed. Azriel's pants had vanished too, his muscular golden skin now bare against her own.

With what little strength she had left, Gwyn lifted Azriel's head to meet his hooded gaze. His beautiful hazel eyes were already dimming, the light fading from them.

"I love you," she whispered through her tears, her heart breaking, knowing these were their last moments.

She leaned down and kissed his lips one final time, pouring all her unspoken feelings into it, wanting him to know how much he meant to her.

Azriel's mouth moved softly against hers, a barely-there caress, before his body went limp in her arms.

Gwyn clutched him to her chest, sobbing as Koschei's dark power continued draining them. She didn't fight it, didn't resist, as the cold emptiness seeped through her.

If this was to be their end, than at least they would find it together.

And what bliss that truly was. Knowing she wouldn’t have to exist without him.

Her arms wrapped around his cooling body tighter, holding him close as the light and magic drained from her eyes, from her body.

Darkness took her but she was at peace.

Until they were no more and Koschei was free.

Chapter Text

Gwyn's awareness crept back to her like a timid creature, shy and hesitant, as if emerging from a profound sleep.

Her eyes fluttered open, a groggy haze clouding her vision. The world around her seemed foreign and unfamiliar, like the lingering remnants of a half-forgotten dream.

As her senses gradually stirred back to life, she registered the chilling dampness of the floor underneath her, its jagged rocks digging into her flesh.

The air was thick with mustiness, slowly invading her nostrils. She inhaled a sharp breath and coughed at the dust coating her throat.

"What on earth is this place?" Gwyn whispered, her voice barely audible in the oppressive darkness. Panic bubbled up inside her chest, as recollections of Koschei's malevolent grin and the biting burn of his sorceryc danced at the edges of her consciousness.

She attempted to hoist herself upright, but her muscles quivered with exhaustion, her body stubbornly resisting her command.

Azriel. She had to find Azriel.

Summoning the last of her strength, Gwyn managed to hoist herself onto her knees, hands scrabbling over the hard ground.

"Azriel?" Her plea was barely more than a croak. She swallowed hard, fighting past the rawness in her throat. "Azriel!"

But only silence met her desperate call. Her heart thundered as she crawled forward, feeling around in the dark.

Why didn't her eyes adjust? The salty sting of tears threatened at the eye corners as she wrestled with the engulfing dread.

She had to find him. She had to know he was alive.

And then… right in front of her… there he was.

A strangled gasp escaped Gwyn's lips as her gaze fell upon Azriel's unmoving form.

Terror, like no other surged within her like a tempest, threatening to rip her soul apart as she stumbled towards him.

Her hands, shaking with fear and shock, reached out to touch him.

"No...no," she whimpered, the words barely more than a choked sob. "Azriel...you can't be...you must be alive. Please."

Yet Azriel remained unresponsive, lifeless. Her heart fractured into countless shards of despair. This was an unthinkable reality. Without him. This was the embodiment of her darkest fears. She had only surrendered to Koschei’s magic because she believed they would face whatever came next together - that she wouldn't have to face existence without him by her side.

"Please... you promised me forever." Tears streamed down her face, dripping onto his body, which wasn’t cold.

Her fingertips grazed his cheek and there ... there was definitely warmth radiating from his skin.

Gwyn's pulse quickened, her heart racing, as she desperately sought for any sign of life within him - a pulse, a heartbeat.

"Please, Az," she whispered again, her plea barely more than a broken echo in the cavernous darkness."You can’t leave me."

A faint groan rumbled in his chest and Gwyn's heart leaped into her throat.

She jerked back slightly, eyes wide with disbelief. “Azriel?”

His eyelids flickered before finally lifting to meet hers. For a brief moment, time seemed to suspend itself entirely. Relief surged through her so powerfully she almost vomited there on the spot.

"Gwyn," he rasped, looking up at her with eyes full of pain and wonder. His hand found hers, squeezing tightly.

She flung herself onto him, her arms instinctively winding around his broad shoulders. "You're alive," she wept into the crook of his neck. "You’re alive, you’re alive."

Azriel enfolded her to him, one hand threading through her hair as if anchoring himself to reality.

She pressed her face against his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of him – earthy and warm, mingled with the faintest hint of pine – and allowed herself to be enveloped by the feeling of his strong arms around her.

"Gods, Azriel," Gwyn gasped, her voice muffled against his skin as tears streamed down her cheeks, "I thought I had lost you forever."

"I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair. "I’m still here."

"What... what happened?" Azriel finally asked, voice raw with confusion. "I remember Koschei... and then... nothing."

Gwyn couldn't find the words, her throat thick with emotion. The horrifying image of Azriel's lifeless body still haunted her, lingering like a ghost refusing to pass on.

"Koschei," she managed to utter."He drained us of our magic."

"Rhys," Azriel murmured, alarm lacing his voice. "We need to warn him. If Koschei is free..."

"Shh," Gwyn interrupted gently, raising her head to meet Azriel's gaze. "One step at a time."

Her free hand slid to the back of his neck, pulling him closer until their foreheads touched.

"Only moments ago I thought you were..." She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. "I can't lose you. Not now, not ever."

Azriel leaned into her touch, eyes closing. "You won't," he promised softly. She felt his lips against her hair, her temple, her mouth. "I'm not going anywhere without you, Gwyn."

His words eased the vice around her heart, loosening the tight knot that had formed there ever so slightly. But as she held onto him for dear life, another realization hit her as hard as ice water.

Gwyn recoiled instantly, her gaze darting over his body. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"Your wings..." Gwyn choked out, her voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel's inhale faltered and he immediately turned his head to look at his back.

Where once there had been mighty Illyrian wings, now there was nothing – not even a scar or the faintest hint that they had ever existed. With a frantic urgency, he twisted as far as he could, trying to see for himself the emptiness where his wings once were.

As she studied him doing so, it wasn't just the absence of his wings that struck her; Azriel's entire being seemed altered.

His once rich golden-brown skin was now a few tones lighter. And the shadows that were always attached to him, an integral part of his very essence, were conspicuously absent. It was as if someone had taken an eraser and gently rubbed out the darkest parts of him, leaving behind a man both familiar and foreign all at once.

"Your shadows," Gwyn mumbled. "They've vanished too."

He clenched his fists, panic flitting across his face. "How can this be? What did Koschei do to us?"

Gwyn tried to find the right words, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts and fears. "I'm not sure... but we'll figure it out," she reassured him, reaching for his hand. As their fingers entwined, the familiar roughness of his scars was noticeably absent.

With shaking fingers, Gwyn lifted their linked hands into view. She stared at his unmarred skin in disbelief. "Your scars...," she murmured, voice trembling with shock and confusion. "They're gone as well."

Azriel raised his hands, examining them as if they were foreign objects attached to his wrists.

"What...?" he managed to stammer out, struggling to process the changes that had occurred.

"And your injuries... you've healed entirely," Gwyn continued softly, her gaze roaming over him as she took note of each alteration. “And there are no tattoos.”

A frown etched itself onto Azriel's face as he began to scrutinize Gwyn's form with growing concern as well. "You... you look different too," he stuttered, clearly disoriented by the transformation that had taken place.

"Your ears..." he finally murmured uncertainly.

Gwyn's hands flew up to touch her ears, fingertips brushing against the now rounded tips that once bore the delicate points indicative of her fae lineage. A gasp hitched in her throat as shock and disbelief surged through her like lightning.

Her heart hammered in her chest as she absorbed it all. What had Koschei done to them?

"Everything feels so... foreign," Gwyn admitted quietly as she attempted to articulate her feelings. "My vision, the scents around us… it's as if we've been stripped of something vital."

"Stripped," Azriel echoed, his eyes locked onto hers. "That's exactly how it feels."

Gwyn reached for his hands once more, gripping them tightly. "Az," she whispered softly. His fingers curled around hers as if she were the only thing tethering him to the earth. "I think... I think we've been made mortal. Human."

The word fell between them like a stone.

Human.

"I don't understand," he rasped out hoarsely. "How can that be?"

"I'm not sure." Gwyn stroked a thumb over his knuckles, willing her heartbeat to slow. "But we'll figure it out. Together."

Azriel swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing. His eyes lifted to hers, deep wells of emotion swirling in their golden depths. "Are you not scared?"

Gwyn shook her head slightly. "Of course I am. But only moments ago I thought you were dead… trust me when I say that nothing is more terrifying than that."

Azriel drew in a sharp breath, gaze softening as he pulled her into his arms, holding her close against the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

"We’ll find a way to undo this," he assured her.

She melted into his embrace, wrapping her arms tightly around him.

"As long as we're alive and together... whatever has happened to us, Azriel, we'll navigate through it," she said firmly.

He nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Let’s get out of this cave now," Gwyn suggested hastily, glancing down at their bare bodies with a blush coloring her cheeks. "And find something to wear."

Azriel's gaze followed hers before returning to meet her eyes again. "Alright," he agreed, his voice a soft whisper against her skin. "Clothes first. But then we need to head back to Velaris."

Chapter Text

The sun was already setting, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the sky as Azriel's mind wandered back to their earlier struggles. He had naively assumed that finding clothing and returning to Velaris would be easy once they had escaped from Koschei's cave. What he hadn't anticipated was the dense forest that surrounded them, leaving him disoriented and longing for his wings and shadows in return.

His body, once capable of going days without food or water when necessary, now demanded sustenance more frequently than he cared to admit. Gwyn seemed equally affected, their shared hunger and thirst driving them to stop far more often than he would have liked.

As they sat huddled together under a massive oak tree, Azriel's thoughts drifted to his past missions as a fae. How easily he had used to blend into his shadows, gathering information and slipping away unnoticed. Now, his human form made him feel vulnerable and exposed doing the simplest of tasks.

He got up and turned the skewered animal over the flames. "I just wish we could get back to Velaris already," he sighed, his frustration evident. "I feel like we're losing time."

"Losing time?" Gwyn asked, her eyes searching his face.

"Time to fix everything," he confessed, his voice barely more than a whisper. "Time to tell the others that Koschei is free."

Gwyn nodded in agreement and eagerly observed as he grilled their dinner. It wasn't much – just a small rabbit he'd managed to catch – but it was enough to fill their empty stomachs; finally.

They'd been fortunate earlier in the day when some passing travelers stumbled upon them in their ragged state. The kind strangers had taken pity on them, believing their story of being robbed, and gifted them some clothes and a knife for protection. The clothes were far from perfect: Azriel's shirt was too tight around his broad shoulders, its sleeves frayed and stained, while the oversized trousers barely stayed up on his hips, while his ankles and most of his calves were not covered at all. Gwyn fared no better in her own attire, with a threadbare blue dress that had seen better days, its hem tattered and muddy, and the neckline dipping lower than she would have liked

"Here, eat," Azriel urged, offering Gwyn a generous portion of the cooked rabbit. She accepted it gratefully, savoring each bite as if it might be her last.

"Tell me again how you caught this," Gwyn mused between mouthfuls, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Azriel smiled sheepishly as he recalled his clumsy attempts at hunting earlier that day. Being trapped in a human body had proven quite the adjustment when it came to skills he once excelled at.

"I stumbled through the forest for over an hour before I finally spotted a plump rabbit nibbling on some clover. Crouching down, I tried to sneak up on the critter as quietly as I could. But I stepped on a branch and it snapped loudly under my boot. The rabbit bolted, and I took off after it in a rather uncoordinated run."

Gwyn covered her mouth, stifling a laugh at the mental image.

"Yes, yes, you can laugh," Azriel said, rolling his eyes in amusement. "I must have looked like a fool, flailing my arms and crashing through the underbrush. But somehow I managed to corner the rabbit by a fallen log. I pounced, landing flat on my stomach in the dirt as the rabbit darted between my outstretched hands. It almost got away, but I grazed its furry tail with my fingertips and snatched it up by the hind legs."

He mimicked the motion, and Gwyn dissolved into giggles.

"So there you have it," Azriel concluded, grinning sheepishly. "The mighty Spymaster's first hunting lesson as a human."

He shook his head ruefully, then met Gwyn's gaze, his expression softening. Despite all the weariness in his heart, there was a flicker of something else tugging there, warming his chest. "It was all worth it, though … to hear your laugh."

The words tumbled out of his mouth, surprising even himself. But as soon as he said them, he knew they were true. For what seemed like an eternity, he had believed that he would never hear that sound again - the sound of his mate's joy.

It reverberated through Azriel's chest, dispelling every nightmare and worry in its path. With just a few notes, she chased away any darkness that plagued his mind.

They hadn't had a chance to talk about it … them being mates and Azriel couldn't help but wonder if their bond remained intact, now that they were … humans.

But as he felt the warmth spread through him, he realized it didn't matter. She was here, with him, and that was all that truly counted.

Gwyn's eyes held a tender glow as she reached out to touch his arm with a gentle yet determined hand. Her small smile was bittersweet, a mix of gratitude and sadness as she whispered her thanks.

"For the rabbit...and for making me smile when I needed it. I haven't had much reason to do so these past days."

Azriel's heart constricted as he thought about the pain he must have caused her involuntarily with his absence.

"You don't need to thank me," he said thickly. "I would do anything for you, Gwyn. Anything."

The flickering firelight cast a searing red hue on his chiseled features as he stared at her with an all-consuming love. With trembling fingers, she reached out to take his hand, struggling to contain the intensity of her emotions.

Azriel inhaled sharply at the contact, marveling at how perfectly her smaller hand fit within his. Everything felt familiar and foreign at the same time, even her touch.

They sat in silence for a long moment, the only sound the sporadic popping of the fire.

"We'll get through this," Gwyn finally whispered.

Azriel gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Yea, we will," he echoed solemnly.

Neither made any move to pull away as they continued holding hands, drawing strength and comfort from each other.

As they ate in companionable silence, Azriel couldn't help but think about their future, and how uncertain it seemed. They were stranded in the human lands, far from their home and their people, with no idea how to reverse what had been done to them.

But as he watched Gwyn take a bite and smile contentedly, Azriel couldn't help but feel grateful.

Despite their dire situation, being with her made everything a bit easier.

Gwyn's hushed voice snapped him back to reality, her warm breath tickling his ear. "Someone's coming."

His muscles tightened immediately as he reached for the knife they had been given earlier, fingers wrapping around the handle with practiced ease. He scanned their surroundings, heart pounding with adrenaline.

And then, in a blink of an eye, as if conjured from his own thoughts, Nesta and Rhys stepped out of the dense forest directly in front of them; their faces were grim.

Nesta's eyes widened in shock and relief as she spotted them.

"By the Cauldron," she shrieked, her voice trembling as she rushed towards Azriel and Gwyn, enveloping both of them in a fierce embrace. "You're alive."

"Thank the Mother," Rhysand joined, pulling them all into a tight embrace.

And for a brief moment, the world seemed to shift back into place. They were found, and now they could go home.

But then Rhysand pulled back abruptly and his initial feeling of relief openly morphed into something like dread as he gazed at Azriel. His brother, known for his deadly grace and fluid movements, stood completely still and rigid. What was even more unsettling was the fact that Azriel's usually magnificent wings were nowhere to be seen.

And his scars … Azriel's power, his very scent, it was all...human. Gwyn too.

"What happened?" Rhysand asked hoarsely.

Azriel let out a slow exhale, his gaze dropping to the ground as he began to recount the harrowing tale. He spoke of Devlon's betrayal, how he had been captured and subjected to unspeakable torture at the hands of the Illyrian general and Beron, all for the sake of acquiring information about the Dread Troves, which - of course - Azriel had not given. His voice was steady, but the strain of reliving those memories was evident in the tight set of his jaw and how his voice wavered every now and then.

Nesta let loose a string of violent curses, her fury a living thing.

Gwyn listened, her hand reaching for Azriel's, squeezing it gently as he continued. Eventually she took over.

"Koschei is free. He drained us of our magic until we became this ... mortal." Gwyn's voice trembled.

"Merrill appears to be under his control. She was the one who brought me to him... Have you seen her?"

Nesta shook her head, sadness etched on her face.

"No, she has disappeared."

Rhys rubbed a hand over his face, the weight of their predicament settling heavily on his shoulders.

"Amren tried to track you both down, but it took longer than expected. I guess the moment you were turned, we lost that connection completely," he explained, frustration evident in the tightness of his jaw. "But at least we had a vague idea where you must be. We searched the entire forest."

Rhys let out a long sigh, his hand trembling slightly as he rubbed it over his stubbled chin.

"Devlon invaded Velaris just days ago," Rhys continued. "He had a group of rebels at his side, trying to rally more supporters against me. As for Beron, he's armed himself with a group of men, no doubt provided by Koschei. Apparently he is preparing to declare war against the Night Court."

Azriel clenched his fists, nails digging into his palm until a bead of blood formed.

"Despite all this," Rhys continued, his gaze never straying from Azriel's, "I … we … couldn't give up hope of finding you alive and bringing you both home." Nesta stood beside him, her hand tightly gripping Gwyn's as she nodded resolutely.

His next words cut through the air like a knife. "This changes everything though ."

"Surely there is a way to reverse this transformation?" Nesta urged. "I was turned into a fae, so there must be a way to turn them too, right?"

Rhysand's expression twisted in anguish as he shook his head slowly. "I wish I knew," he admitted. "But if there's a way, we will figure it out."

"Alright. Let’s get them back to Velaris. We can -" Nesta began but Rhys interrupted.

"No. We can’t bring them back," his violet eyes full of regret. "As much as it pains me to say this, it would be too dangerous to bring them to Velaris like this. If word got out that my Spymaster was now a defenseless human in the midst of all this chaos...if Devlon found out..." He trailed off, but he didn't need to elaborate anyway; they all understood what he was trying to say.

Gwyn's eyes widened, her fingers instinctively tightening around Azriel's hand. And Nesta snapped.

"Rhysand, you can't be serious! You're just going to leave them here?"

"Listen to me," Rhys implored, his eyes darting between the incredulous faces of his friends. "We have to be rational about this. If Devlon finds out that Azriel is mortal and vulnerable, he'll kill him. We can't let that happen. It's best if you stay here in the human lands and try to go undercover, at least until I've dealt with Devlon and Beron."

Azriel tensed as Rhys's words sunk in, each one feeling like a physical weight bearing down on his shoulders. His heart raced and his palms started to sweat as he looked at his High Lord, wanting nothing more than to stand by his side in battle. But deep down, he understood the truth in Rhys's plea. As a powerful fae forced into a fragile human form, he was a liability - a weakness. And Rhys couldn’t bear putting him at risk.

"Rhys is right," Azriel murmured, his voice heavy with resignation. He gave Gwyn's hand a gentle squeeze. "We'll stay here and lay low. Until we hear any news."

"Listen," Rhys said, his voice low and steady. "I will send some money to help you both get settled in a nearby village. And as soon as things have calmed down, I will come and get you."

Nesta's voice cracked, her normally stoic expression crumbling as she stared at her friends.

"We can't just leave them," she pleaded, the desperation in her eyes mirrored by the trembling of her hands.

Rhys placed a firm hand on her shoulder, trying to quell her rising panic. "We have to be strategic about this, Nesta. It's only temporary," he reassured her.

Azriel watched the exchange with a heavy heart.

"I trust your decision," he declared, meeting his High Lord's gaze.

Relief flooded Rhys' face at his words. "Thank you, Az," he said gratefully. "I swear, I'll find a way to undo Koschei's magic and bring you both back home. We won't rest until we do."

However, there were currently more pressing matters that required his immediate focus.

As the time came for Nesta and Rhys to depart, the weight of their goodbyes hung heavy in the air – each embrace holding an unspoken fear and silent despair.

With one last lingering look at the two humans standing by the fire, their eyes filled with love and sorrow, Nesta and Rhys turned and disappeared into the dark, thick forest.

Behind them, Azriel and Gwyn remained, watching them leave with bittersweet sadness in their hearts.

Chapter Text

Gwyn and Azriel stumbled upon a charming village nestled at the southwestern border of the forest.

It was a hidden treasure tucked away within the towering trees.

Its cobblestone streets wound through the center, leading to picturesque thatched-roof houses that seemed to have sprung from the pages of a fairytale book.

Each one boasted unique architecture and whimsical details. The air was filled with the comforting scents of woodsmoke and freshly baked bread, adding to the idyllic atmosphere of this secret haven.

Despite its size, the village seemed to have everything one needed for daily life - a blacksmith's forge, bustling marketplace, and even a modest schoolhouse that caught Gwyn's eye as they made their way toward the town hall.

They requested assistance from the local authorities, explaining that they were in need of temporary lodging until their "family" could send them money, having been robbed on their journey here.

"Please," Gwyn had implored. "We don't ask for charity, we can work for our keep."

Azriel stood quietly beside her, his sun-kissed complexion and dark hair highlighting his still unnervingly beautiful features. Even without his Illyrian wings, he cut an imposing figure. Shoulders broad, back straight; there was no mistaking the honed strength in his muscular frame.

Yet it was his eyes that drew the most attention. Fathomless pools of hazel seemed to swirl with shadows despite their loss. Ancient, knowing, and perhaps a little haunted, they gazed out from beneath dark brows with an intensity that was difficult to meet for long.

As they had walked through the town, most people would avert their eyes when they caught sight of him, unsettled by his piercing stare. Which was why Gwyn had taken on the role of spokesperson - she was much less intimidating than he was.

The lady behind the desk assured them that they would be taken care of and directed them to the home of a kindly older couple who occasionally rented out their attic room to travelers.

On their way there, Azriel adjusted his posture, hating the weightlessness of his back. The absence of his wings made him feel exposed and off-balance. There was this constant urge to look behind him, as if to check for them, only to be met with empty space.

Gwyn registered the subtle tightening of his frame and the slight drooping of his shoulders each time he cast a backward glance. She understood that his wings had been an integral part of him, of his identity, and her heart clenched with empathy for the profound sense of loss he must be grappling with.

It was its own kind of cruelty to strip someone of that kind of freedom.

Wanting to offer some small comfort, she reached over and gently squeezed Azriel's hand. He started slightly at the contact, then turned his intense gaze on her. His eyes softened, and he squeezed her hand in return, a silent acknowledgement of gratitude.

Soon, they arrived at a modest but well-kept cottage on the edge of the village. Gwyn rapped gently on the weathered door.

A man with silver hair and a trimmed beard answered, his brown eyes crinkling as he curiously looked over the two strangers at his door. "Hello there. What can I do for you folks?"

Gwyn gave him a tentative smile. "Good day, sir. I am Gwyneth, and this is Azriel. We were told by the lady from the townhouse that you might rent out a room in your attic." She clasped her hands in front of her, the picture of polite supplication. "We find ourselves in need of lodging but have no money presently. However we would happily work in exchange for letting us stay."

Thomas rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hmm, the attic room, eh? Let me get the missus." He turned and called into the house, "Maggie! Come here, love, we've got guests."

A plump woman with graying hair pinned up in a bun appeared at the door, wiping floury hands on her apron. "Guests, at this hour?" Her eyes widened as she took in Azriel's imposing form and Gwyneth's delicate beauty. "Oh my, please come in dears."

She ushered them into the cozy kitchen, insisting they sit and have some tea.

"Thomas tells me you're looking for a place to stay," Margaret said, her voice laced with a slight hint of suspicion. "What brings you to our humble village?"

Gwyn glanced at Azriel. She could feel his thoughts churning, unsure of how much to reveal.

Gwyn cautiously explained that they had been traveling and were robbed in the forest. They were waiting for their family to send money and were willing to work for a place to stay.

Margaret's gaze softened, but her eyes still held a glint of curiosity. "You two didn't run away together, did you? It's just that I can't help but notice that neither of you wear rings."

Gwyn blinked, taken aback by the insinuation. In the fae realm, there was no need for such human customs as marriage. She glanced at Azriel, who seemed equally surprised by the question. His golden-brown skin flushed darker under the scrutiny, betraying his unease.

With a surge of protectiveness, Gwyn grasped Azriel's hand and held it close to her chest. Their fingers intertwined, and she fixed her gaze on Margaret, her voice unwavering. "You are mistaken. Azriel is my husband, and I am his wife. There were thieves in the forest who have taken everything from us on the way here, including our rings."

The forcefulness of Gwyn's words sent a tremor coursing through Azriel, leaving him gasping for air. It wasn't the first time Gwyn's words overwhelmed him, but this proclamation was an entirely different beast.

He had never held much regard for human traditions - they appeared so trivial in comparison to the everlasting ties created in the world of the fae.

Yet hearing Gwyn proclaim him her husband, loud and clear, stirred something deep within his soul.

A deep shade of red spread across his cheeks, and a fluttering feeling took over in his stomach.

When Margaret's inquiring eyes landed on him, he found himself unable to speak. Instead, he stared at Gwyn, struggling to hold back the moisture that had gathered in his eyes.

Indeed, there had been a thief; that much was true. Koschei had seized almost all he cared about.

Except for one thing - Gwyn.

This crucial certainty somehow softened the blow of losing his wings and shadows. And he found himself questioning if he could have beared it were the roles reversed.

Noticing that he had been silent for too long, he hastily nodded and stuttered out a confirmation of Gwyn's words.

"I see," Margaret said, a touch of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "I apologize for the misunderstanding."

"No. I understand," Gwyn replied, releasing Azriel's hand but not before giving it an affectionate pat.

"I know our tale must seem fantastical to you both. But we have suffered much. All we ask is for a shelter till will find a way back to our home, our family."

Her words flowed like honey, sweet and persuasive.

Margaret nodded, though she still looked puzzled.

"Well, you two are welcome to stay here as long as you need," Thomas said. "It's not much, just a small attic room, but it's yours for as long as it takes to get back on your feet."

"You are both too kind," Gwyn said sincerely. "We cannot thank you enough for your generosity."

Azriel nodded in agreement.

"You are not much of a talker, are you?" Thomas pointed at him.

Gwyn let out a small laugh, "No, he is not." Making Azriel blush even deeper. Gods, he was endearing like this.

Thomas flashed a grin. "I'm the carpenter in this town, and I could use an extra set of hands to help with cutting wood. You look like you can handle some rough work."

Azriel's eyes brightened with enthusiasm. "It would be my pleasure to assist," he replied eagerly.

"Excellent," Thomas nodded approvingly. "We'll start at first light, then." He stood, joints creaking. "Let me show you two up to the attic."

They followed him up the narrow stairs to a small but cozy room under the eaves. It was sparsely furnished, with a single bed pushed against one wall, a wash basin, and a bare table with two rickety chairs. Faded curtains hung from the window, allowing a sliver of light to filter into the dim room. A few wooden shelves held a collection of dusty books and knickknacks, and a worn chest sat at the foot of the bed, its surface marred by scratches and dents.

"I know it's not much..." Thomas said apologetically.

"It's perfect, truly. We cannot thank you enough for your kindness," Gwyn said warmly.

Thomas let them know that Maggie was going to bring them some food up later. Gwyn thanked him again profusely. After he left, Azriel let out a long breath and sank down on the edge of the bed.

"Well, this is quite the adventure we've found ourselves in," Gwyn said lightly, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Azriel just grunted in reply, not meeting her gaze. He was clearly frustrated with their situation, with having his powers stripped away and being forced into such humble circumstances.

Gwyn studied him for a moment. "I know this is very difficult for you," she said gently. "But remember. It's only temporary. Rhysand will find a solution."

Azriel remained silent, staring at the floor.

Gwyn stood by the small window, her fingers tracing the wooden frame as she watched the glow of the setting sun bathe the village in warm hues. The scent of freshly cut wood and the distant sound of laughter filled the air, a comforting reminder that peace persisted somewhere despite their harrowing journey.

"Still can't believe you agreed with that man," Azriel teased from behind her, his voice low and rich like dark chocolate. "Telling him I'm not much of a talker."

She turned to face him, a playful grin spreading across her lips. "Well, he wasn't entirely wrong, was he?" Gwyn's eyes sparkled with mischief as she reveled in their light-hearted banter.

Azriel snorted, shaking his head as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. "I'll have you know that my intellect is one of my most valued assets, and I discern precisely when to employ it and when to refrain."

"Really now?" Gwyn raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "I thought it was your brawn, not your brain, that got us into this arrangement."

"Careful, wife," he warned playfully, the word rolling off his tongue with a teasing lilt as he got up and slowly stalked toward her. "You might just find yourself on the receiving end of both."

Gwyn stilled at the unexpected use of the term, her heart skipping a beat, as she stared up at him.

She felt her cheeks flush as Azriel came closer, his imposing form looming over her.

There hadn't been much intimacy between them since they were turned human. They had been focused solely on survival and adjustment. Neither had they discussed the fact that they were mates.

But hearing him call her 'wife' stirred something deep within her.

Azriel seemed to sense the change as well. His golden-brown eyes darkened, flickering over her face and lingering on her lips. Gwyn's breath caught, heat pooling low in her belly at his focused stare.

Slowly, giving her time to move away, Azriel reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. His uncharacteristically even fingers trailed featherlight over her cheek. Gwyn shuddered at the contact, leaning into his palm.

"Az..." she breathed, the rest of his name dying on her lips as he ducked his head and captured her mouth with his.

Gwyn melted against him, her hands coming up to fist in his shirt. Azriel's lips were firm yet gentle as they moved over hers. She opened for him eagerly, deepening the kiss as she tasted him for the first time, what felt like ages. He groaned low in his throat, banding an arm around her waist and hauling her flush against him.

Gwyn dragged her nails down his chest, relishing the hardness of muscle under her touch. Azriel growled, nipping at her bottom lip in retaliation. Desire flooded her senses, blocking out everything but the feel and taste of him surrounding her. The gods only knew how much she needed the distraction.

But there was a persistent feeling tugging at the back of her mind.

"We probably shouldn't..." she murmured halfheartedly between fevered kisses along his jaw.

Gwyn knew they should stop, that this was not the right time or place with Margaret and Thomas downstairs, who had kindly opened their home to them.

"Probably not," he replied, voice hoarse, but didn't make any effort to halt his actions.

Instead, his hands slid up her thighs, rucking up the simple dress she wore. Gwyn gasped as his fingers found her wet and wanting, stroking her in that way he knew would undo her.

"Azriel..." she breathed, the rest of his name dying on her lips as he ducked his head and captured her mouth with his again.

"Shhh... you have to be quiet," he mumbled.

Gwyn's breath hitched as Azriel's fingers continued their sweet torture, stroking and circling her most sensitive areas.

Though now human, he retained all of his skills in that particular area.

He still played her body like his favorite instrument, expertly finding every note that made her sing.

"It's a shame I can't smell you the way I used to," he murmured, his warm breath caressing her ear as he nuzzled into her neck.

"Azriel," she gasped, biting her lip to prevent herself from crying out. She had to remain silent, though Azriel seemed intent on undoing her completely.

"I wonder if you taste different," he growled against her throat, nipping at the tender skin there.

Before she could respond, he sank to his knees, pushing her dress up to bare her to him. Gwyn's eyes widened, her cheeks flushing as he spread her legs further. She knew they shouldn't, but the sight of him kneeling before her, gazing at her with such hungry longing, erased any protest from her mind.

Azriel's warm breath ghosted over her slick folds, and she shuddered, hands coming down to tangle in his hair. When his mouth finally met her heated flesh, her back arched sharply, white-hot pleasure spiking through her core, making her writhe and whimper.

"Quiet now," he rasped, the vibration of his deep voice against her slick flesh, making Gwyn's knees buckle.

"Can't have the whole house knowing I'm ravishing you."

Azriel grabbed Gwyn's hips roughly, holding her in place as he devoured her, his tongue swirling circles around her swollen nub before dipping lower to lap at her entrance.

Gwyn bit her lip, muffling a cry as two long fingers slid inside her, crooking just right. She was soaked, inner muscles clenching desperately around the steady thrust of his hand.

Azriel's eyes blazed up at her, feral and hungry, before his mouth descended once more. He sucked her nub between his lips, and Gwyn came undone, her climax rolling through her in waves as she shook and shuddered. Still, Azriel did not stop, intent on wringing every last tremor from her body.

Only when she was limp and spent did he slow his ministrations, licking her clean with long, languid strokes. Gwyn whimpered, oversensitive, and Azriel chuckled darkly against her thigh.

Gwyn's breaths came in short gasps as Azriel rose to his feet, his eyes burning with desire. She felt her cheeks flush even deeper at the intimate act they'd just shared, knowing full well they shouldn't have taken such a risk.

Yet Azriel's passion had overwhelmed her senses, making her forget propriety. Now, seeing the evidence of her pleasure glistening on his lips, Gwyn felt a coil of fresh need unfurl within her.

"You are still exquisite," he grinned, his voice a husky rumble. "I could feast on you for eternity and never tire of your sweetness."

Gwyn's blush deepened at his words. There was a roughness to Azriel's tone that hinted at barely leashed desire.

"Who's not much of a talker now, wife?" He brushed his thumb along her lower lip, touch impossibly gentle despite the need simmering between them.

Where the term had previously ignited a heat inside her, it now made her stiffen.

She was not his wife, not really. But she was his mate. And it was finally time for someone to acknowledge it.

She confidently locked eyes with him and boldly corrected him: "Mate."

Azriel's hand stilled. Mate. The word seemed to echo in the small attic room, amplified by the significance it had held for him; still did.

Though his body was now mortal, his soul still recognized her as the missing piece of himself. His equal, his partner, his perfect complement in every way.

For so long, he had suppressed their connection, dismissed it, trivialized its significance. Yet now, the memory of their initial encounter came flooding back in excruciating clarity. He had convinced himself that it had been mere chance he had found her in time. But it was far from a coincidence. Upon his arrival in Sangravah, he had felt an irresistible draw towards the kitchen—towards her. Witnessing the atrocities being committed against her by those males had sparked rage within him like none he had ever felt before. Because they had dared to lay hands on, had dared to harm the one person he was destined to shield. His mate. And gods had he been ashamed — for arriving that late, for failing even more miserably than he had anticipated, for not being there in time. She was worthy of so much more. So he had buried that knowledge deep down, into the depths of his mind, where he would never dare to revisit.

But then Gwyn had slowly melted his defenses with her warmth and compassion. She saw his darkness and embraced it, helped to guide him back to the light. And in the end, she was the one that had saved him.

Gwyn held his gaze, chin lifted in challenge, daring him to deny it. But he would not do such a thing.

Not ever again.

Azriel's hand continued moving, caressing her cheek.

"My mate," he spoke the words like they were a confirmation and a vow equally. "My beautiful mate," his voice rough and strained.

Gwyn's eyes misted, a brilliant smile lighting up her face.

But then, anger and self-blame flooded back in, causing him to shut his eyes tightly against the tide of memories.

Gwyn noticed the change in his demeanor immediately. Reaching up, she tenderly wiped away a tear that was making it's way down his cheek.

"Azriel," she whispered with such care, "what's wrong?"

He opened his eyes to meet her compassionate gaze. More tears threatened to spill over as the weight of everything they had endured pressed down on him.

"I'm so sorry," he rasped, his voice thick with emotion. "For all the pain I have caused you, for my inability to accept things. Because I am a fucking coward."

He howled. "You deserve so much better."

Gwyn tightly held onto his hands. "Don't you dare…" she said fiercely.

Azriel shook his head, more tears spilling down his cheeks as he sank to his knees before her.

"I failed you," he choked out. "I should have been there for you. Not where I was, waiting for Mor. I should have been there. I was not strong enough, I'm not worthy-"

His words dissolved into heart-wrenching sobs that shook his broad shoulders. Gwyneth felt her own eyes fill with tears at the sight of her brave, unflappable Azriel so utterly broken.

She knelt and wrapped her arms around him, pressing his head to her chest as she stroked his hair. He clung to her like a drowning man, great heaving sobs muffled against her body. She made soothing sounds, rocking him gently as months of fear, rage, and grief poured out of him.

"Shhh, it's alright," she murmured. "We're together now, we survived. That's all that matters."

When his weeping finally subsided into hiccups, Gwyneth gently urged Azriel to his feet and guided him to the small bed in the corner of the room. She lay down first, opening her arms to him. He practically collapsed into her embrace, spent and exhausted. She cradled him close, combing her fingers through his hair as his breathing evened out into sleep.

A short while later, Margaret knocked softly on the door.  Gwyn quietly invited her in. Her gaze immediately found Azriel curled in Gwyn's arms, face tucked against her neck as he slept, exhausted from the emotional release.

A knowing smile tugged at her lips, which Gwyn returned.  She mouthed a silent "thank you" as the older woman set down the tray of bread, cheese, and dried fruit on the small table and then left.

Gwyn's stomach rumbled, reminding her neither of them had eaten since yesterday. But she didn't have the heart to wake Azriel just yet. He looked so peaceful.

There would be time for food later. She matched her breathing to his, letting the steady rise and fall of his chest soothe her into tranquility.

Though her own eyelids were heavy, Gwyneth remained awake for some time, watching over Azriel as he slumbered in her arms. She pressed a featherlight kiss to his forehead, filled with tenderness for this complicated, vulnerable male she had come to love so deeply.

"I've got you," she whispered into the setting darkness. "Always."

Chapter Text

The past few mornings had been the same.

Azriel would awaken in a strange place, struggling to piece together his surroundings and how he had ended up there.

The line between his nightmares and reality blurred, making it difficult to distinguish which one was which.

This morning, he at least woke up not on the hard ground but on a soft surface, next to someone equally as soft.

He carefully extracted himself from Gwyn's embrace, taking care not to disturb her rest.

Though he yearned to stay with her, he had to fulfill a promise.

Thomas expected him before the first light.

The floorboards creaked under his bare feet as he moved through the attic room in the pre-dawn stillness. He paused for a moment, gazing down at Gwyn's sleeping form. Her coppery hair fanned across the pillow, lips slightly parted as she breathed evenly. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful. His heart ached, as he recalled crying into her arms the previous night until exhaustion finally overtook him.

He forced himself to turn away, donning his boots, which he was sure she had removed for him.

The food Margaret had left was a welcome sight. Azriel ate quickly, washing it down with cool water from the pitcher.

Simultaneously, his thoughts whirled in tumultuous chaos, wrestling with their situation.

The realization that he was too powerless to aid his family, his people in their battle against Devlon and Beron ate at Azriel's spirit. He was accustomed to being one of the strongest, deadliest Illyrian warriors. Now, in this state, he suspected that even the simple task of cutting wood would prove a challenge. His shadows were gone, Siphons useless. He felt exposed, vulnerable. Weak.

These bitter ruminations accompanied Azriel down the stairs and out into the crisp morning air where Thomas waited.

The old carpenter handed Azriel an axe and gestured towards the woods.

"Ready?"

The weight felt odd in his human hands, so different from the Illyrian blades he was accustomed to wielding with ease.

He gave Thomas a tight smile. "Let's go."

Together, they trudged off into the shadowy woods as the sky began to lighten. Azriel focused on the repetitive thwack of axe on wood, the growing pile of logs next to him, Thomas's quiet companionship - an allowed himself to be lured into a state of calmness.

Most of all, he tried not to look at the shadows in the forest, which remained silent, unresponsive, cut off from him - and how much it hurt.

—

Gwyn awoke to morning light streaming through the small attic window. After dressing, she made her way downstairs, following the smell of freshly baked bread.

In the kitchen, she found Margaret kneading dough at the table. The elderly woman looked up with a smile.

"Good morning, dear. I hope you slept alright."

Gwyn nodded, returning the smile. "I did, thank you. That attic room is so cozy."

Margaret gestured to the loaf rising near the fire. "Help yourself to some bread and jam. The preserves are in that cupboard there."

As Gwyn prepared her breakfast, she studied the woman's stooped posture, her gnarled hands struggling with the stiff dough.

"Please, allow me to help with that," Gwyn offered gently.

Margaret waved her away. "Oh nonsense, you just rest. Your husband's already out helping Thomas."

"I insist," she said, moving to take over kneading. "It's the least I can do after your generosity."

Margaret hesitated, then relinquished the dough with a grateful sigh.

They worked in comfortable silence, Gwyn's strong fingers working the dough while Margaret chopped apples nearby.

Gwyn observed her for a while and noticed the familiar look of profound sorrow in her rheumy blue eyes, which she understood all too well.

On impulse, she began humming a cheerful melody, hoping to brighten the woman's spirit.

Margaret looked at her in surprise, then delight. Soon, she tuned in.

Together, they sang snatches of songs as the pie baked, filling the cozy kitchen with warmth and the sweetness of their voices.

As they finished tidying up the room a while later, Margaret turned her attention to Gwyn. "You know, dear, I think it's time we get you both some fresh clothes. I won't have my guests looking like vagabonds."

Gwyn's teal eyes widened, her hands coming up in protest. "Oh, no, Margaret, you've already done so much for us. Please, you needn't—"

Margaret waved off Gwyn's concerns with a firm shake of her head. "Nonsense, child. It's no trouble at all. Besides, it'll be nice to see someone else wearing my daughter's old clothes. They've been gathering dust for far too long."

Margaret disappeared into the depths of a cluttered wardrobe, her fingers trailing over the fabrics as she searched for the garments.

"Ah, here we are," Margaret announced, emerging victoriously with a simple linen dress and apron folded neatly in her arms. She handed them to Gwyn, who marveled at the delicate embroidery along the edges.

The thought of wearing something other than the grime-covered dress provided by the travelers lifted her spirits; she couldn't wait to change.

"I'm afraid I don't have anything that will fit Azriel just yet, but I might be able to sew something together later."

Gwyn stared at the woman who had taken them in, feeding and sheltering two strangers without question. She had known kindness. But never like this. Never so selfless and bright.

Gwyn threw her arms around Margaret, hugging her close. "Thank you," she whispered. "You truly have a heart of gold."

Margaret's arms came around her, a comforting warmth. She patted Gwyn's back gently like one would a child.

"There now, it's all right." Margaret's voice was soft and soothing. "Really."

Gwyn drew a shaky breath, and for the first time since waking in this strange mortal world, she somewhat felt at ease.

"Where is your daughter now?" Gwyn asked curiously.

A wistful smile curved Margaret's lips as she ran a hand over the dress in Gwyn's arms. "She married a farmer from a village a few days' ride from here. I haven't seen her in years, though she writes when she can."

Gwyn's heart ached at the longing in Margaret's voice. To be separated from one's child... She couldn't imagine it. Reaching out, she placed a hand over Margaret's, where it rested on the fabric.

"I'm sorry," she said, voice gentle. "It must be difficult, having her so far away."

Margaret blinked rapidly, then gave Gwyn's hand a quick squeeze. "Yes, well. That's how it goes, isn't it? Children grow up and make lives of their own." She cleared her throat, eyes bright, and handed Gwyn the dress. "Now go and try it on."

Gwyn nodded, blinking back her own emotions as she headed into her room to change. This woman's kindness was a gift she would never forget.

As evening fell, the men returned from their labor, their bodies coated in sweat and dirt. Exhaustion clung to their every movement, evident in the slump of their shoulders and slow drag of their feet.

Azriel's black shirt was rolled up at the sleeves, showing off his muscular forearms. And the collar open to cool him down. The smudge of dirt on his cheek only added to the appeal of his rugged look. His typical stoic expression was softened by the vulnerability of his fatigue. And it actually really suited him, this casual state of disarray.

A tingling feeling fluttered in her stomach, and for a moment Gwyn was expecting his nostrils to flare and his intense gaze to lock onto her. But they never did.

"Tired?" she asked, her voice betraying a hint of desire.

"Very," Azriel replied with a slight grin, the exhaustion evident on his face. However, as he took in her presence, the weariness seemed to fade away. "You look...," he paused, noticing her new outfit and playing with the fabric of her apron between his fingers. "Pretty."

"Ah, it smells delicious in here," Thomas announced from behind them, cutting through the charged atmosphere that was building between them, reminding them they were not alone.

Margaret beamed at her husband's praise, her cheeks flushing a rosy pink. "I had some excellent help," she replied, nodding towards Gwyn, who returned her smile appreciatively.

Thomas chuckled, shifting his gaze towards Azriel. "I can say the same for my day out there. You're quite the hard worker, boy." Azriel's lips tugged upward, a hint of pride flickering in his dark eyes.

As Gwyn and Margaret hurried to finish setting the table, Thomas crossed the room to fetch two bottles of beer from the cabinet. He handed one to Azriel, clapping him on the back as he said, "Here, you earned it."

"Thank you," Azriel replied, his voice deep and sincere. Gwyn couldn't help but steal a glance at him, the way his long fingers wrapped around the bottle, the faint gleam of sweat still clinging to his exposed collarbone.

The men eagerly took their seats as Margaret and Gwyn filled their bowls.

"Thank you both for preparing such a delicious meal," Thomas said, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

"Indeed," Azriel added. "It's very appreciated."

Margaret looked at Thomas with a gentle chide, her eyes shining with amusement. "You should have cleaned up before coming to the dinner table, dear," she scolded. "Did you forget your manners?" She reached over and wiped the smudge from his face with a tut.

Thomas grinned. "When you are this hungry, manners go out the window." She shook her head at her husband, who looked sheepish but unrepentant. Azriel watched the exchange with a hint of bemusement.

After the meal, Margaret shooed the men off to bathe while she and Gwyn cleaned up.

"I've left clothes for you on the chair," Margaret said casually, and Azriel turned to face her.

"You are an angel," he responded gratefully.

He lingered in the doorway a moment longer, catching Gwyn's gaze in silent question. She gave him a slight nod and smile, hoping to reassure him that she was alright. Seemingly satisfied, Azriel followed Thomas down the hall.

Eventually, Azriel and Gwyn retreated to their private room. Gwyn sighed, letting the weight of the day slip from her shoulders. "I can't believe how sweet they are," she murmured.

"I know," Azriel agreed, his eyes softening as he watched her.

Gwyn turned to face him, her fingers playing absently with the hem of her dress. "Do you think we'll ever be able to repay them for all of that?"

"Perhaps not in the way we'd like," Azriel admitted. "But I believe that helping them around the house and being good company is a start."

Gwyn nodded and watched as Azriel sunk down onto the edge of the bed.

She went to him, gently brushing the damp hair from his eyes.

"You look worn out," she said softly.

"I am," he admitted with a small, wry smile. "Being human is... tiring. The axe I used today felt heavier than any weapon I've held before." He shook his head, chuckling slightly. "I don't think I'll struggle with insomnia tonight."

Gwyn's eyes softened with sympathy as she regarded him. Though he tried to make light of it, she could tell the day's labor had truly exhausted him in both body and spirit.

"Lay down," she instructed gently. Azriel glanced at her in surprise but didn't argue as he settled onto his back across the small bed. Gwyn scanned the room for a moment before selecting a book from the worn shelf on the wall.

"Scoot over a bit," she said, nudging Azriel's hip until there was room for her to sit beside him. She leaned against the headboard, crossing her legs in front of her.

"Come here," she beckoned, patting her thigh. Azriel hesitated only a second before resting his head in her lap, the tension in his body already easing.

Gwyn opened the book, the pages crackling softly. "I'm going to read to you for a bit. I think we could both use some distraction," she explained.

She cleared her throat softly and began to read, her voice like a gentle lullaby that carried Azriel away from his troubles and into the world woven by the words on the page.

"Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there stood a magnificent castle perched high upon a cliff overlooking an azure sea…"

As she read, Gwyn's fingers slowly carded through his dark locks. Her other hand held the book, the pages rustling softly each time she turned them.

Azriel couldn't take his eyes off Gwyn as she read to him, her expressions shifting with each word. He was mesmerized by the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the slight quirk of her lips when a character did something amusing, and the sparkle in her eyes as she delved deeper into the story. Everything else faded away as he lay in her lap, entirely captivated by her.

His eyelids grew heavy with each passing moment, the weariness of his body finally catching up with his mind.

Yet he fought against the pull of sleep, unwilling to let go just yet.

"Tell me," he whispered, his voice barely audible, "why do you think the princess ran away to the woods instead of confronting her father about not wanting to marry the prince?"

Gwyn paused her reading, glancing down at Azriel with a soft smile. "I think she was scared. Even though she was brave, standing up to the king must have felt impossible for her."

She let out a small sigh. "Sometimes it's easier to run away than face the truth, especially when you feel powerless."

Azriel nodded slowly, processing her words. "Do you think she'll find the courage to go back?"

"I hope so," Gwyn said. "The story seems to be leading her on a journey to discover her own strength. She just needs to realize she had it in her all along."

Gwyn paused, then stated, "She is her own hero."

Azriel's lips curled into a faint smile. "Just like you."

Gwyn's breath caught in her throat at Azriel's words. She glanced down to meet his tender gaze, his eyes glimmering like honey in the lamp light.

"Me?" she whispered.

Azriel reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Yes, you. I've never known anyone as brave and resilient as you, Gwyn. After everything you endured at Sangravah, you still have so much hope and compassion in your heart." His fingers trailed along her jawline, touch feather-light. "You inspire me every day. Your inner strength is what gives me the courage to face my own demons."

Gwyn felt her cheeks flush, unused to such sincere praise. But looking into Azriel's eyes, she could see the truth of his words.

"Thank you," she murmured. "I'm still learning to have faith in myself. But knowing you believe in me helps more than you know."

Azriel smiled and snuggled against her once more.

"Would you like me to continue?" Gwyn asked, her fingertips resuming their gentle ministrations.

"Please," he murmured. As she read on, Azriel felt the last remnants of his exhaustion and anxiety slip away.

And as sleep finally claimed him, cradled in the warmth of her presence, he knew that even though his shadows were gone, he would not feel alone. Because he had her.

And somehow that was enough.

Chapter Text

The days passed by in a familiar pattern, with Azriel working alongside Thomas in the woods and Gwyn helping Margaret with household tasks.
And no update from Rhysand. Yet.

One evening, when they were already lying in bed, muffled shouts drifted up from downstairs.

Azriel's eyes snapped open, and Gwyn stirred beside him, her breath catching. They exchanged a worried glance, hands finding each other beneath the sheets.
"What is going on?" Gwyn whispered. Her fingers tightened around Azriel's, pulse racing.

Azriel didn't want to wait to find out. He was already on his feet, surging forward to fling the door open. "Stay here," he murmured. But Gwyn ignored him, grabbing her shawl and following close behind. Together they crept down the narrow stairs, bare feet making no sound on the worn wood. At the base, Azriel pressed a finger to his lips before peering around the corner.

In the kitchen, a large man loomed over Thomas, spit flying from his lips as he screamed in the carpenter's face. Thomas cowered against the wall, eyes glassy with terror, hands raised in supplication.

"Please, I just need more time," Thomas pleaded, eyes wide.

"I'm done waiting," the man growled. "You owe me, old man! I'll burn this place to the ground and your wife along with it if you don't pay up!" His gaze slid to Margaret cowering in the corner, greedy and cruel.

Azriel stepped into the room, rage simmering beneath his now-burning skin. Gwyn hovered behind him, hands balled into fists.

"What is the meaning of this?" Azriel demanded, voice like gravel. The man whirled and jerked back at the sight of him, eyes wide in surprise. "Let Thomas go," Azriel commanded, low.

"This ain't your concern, boy," the stranger sneered, although he loosened his grip on Thomas.

"It is now," Azriel said. His eyes gleamed like sharpened steel.

"Thomas owes me money for a job I did. I'm here to collect what's mine." Thomas nodded weakly from behind the man. "It's true. I needed help finishing a project, but...there was an attack. These winged fae came and destroyed... I can't pay you… I just can't. I need more time."

Azriel frowned as he took in his words. Taking a deep breath, he turned to the other man again. "I understand you are owed payment, but surely we can come to an agreement."

The man scoffed. "I'm done playing nice. The old fool owes me, and I aim to get what I'm due." His eyes drifted over Azriel's shoulder, zeroing in on Gwyn. "Though perhaps we could strike a different bargain."

Azriel felt his blood turn to ice in his veins as the implication hit him. He moved to block Gwyn from the man's view, darkness swirling violently in his eyes despite his lack of power.
"You will not lay a finger on her," Azriel said, his voice deathly quiet, "or anyone else in this household for that matter."

The man laughed. "Going to stop me, boy?"

Azriel surged forward, but Gwyn was quick enough to grab his arm before he could strike. "Azriel, don't!" And he halted his advances, though his body remained taut as a bowstring.

Then the stranger dared to laugh.

"You should listen to your woman, boy," the man sneered. "Wouldn't want anything to happen to that pretty face of yours."

Azriel's eyes flashed dangerously. "Oh, she is not worried about my face. 'This woman' just saved your miserable life," he whispered lowly. "Because there is another way this could end tonight, and she very well knows it. With your body buried deep in the woods."

The man paled at the lethal promise in Azriel's voice. He knew without a doubt that this was no empty threat. Stumbling back a step, the man weighed his options, as Azriel continued, "But contrary to me, Thomas is an honorable man. Give him two weeks, and he will get you the money."

The man just continued staring at him.

"Two weeks," Azriel repeated. "I give you my word the debt will be repaid by then."

The man straightened his tunic, face reddening. "And if it's not?"

Azriel's eyes darkened. "It will be."

The man searched Azriel's face, then glanced back at Gwyn. Something unreadable passed over his features.

"Two weeks," he conceded. With a final glare at Thomas, he turned and left.

The four of them sat down at the table.

"How much does he claim you owe?" Azriel asked, tugging the hair from his eyes.

Thomas swallowed, dropping his gaze. "More coin than I can repay in two weeks. At my age, I can't take on many projects anymore, and I can't afford to hire any help."

Azriel studied the old man. After a moment, he grasped Thomas's shoulder. "Do not worry. You've got me now. I will help you, if you let me."

Thomas's eyes snapped up, wide with disbelief. "I couldn't possibly ask that of you."

"You are not asking," Azriel said gently. "I am offering." He leaned forward. "Now, please tell me about this attack."

Thomas let out a long breath and nodded slowly. He went on how a group of winged fae had descended from the sky weeks ago, shattering the doors and furniture he'd crafted for a wealthy client.

"I'd never seen anything like them before, with black bat wings stretching from their backs. They stormed through, demanding to know the way to some cursed lake. I told them I knew nothing of it, but they didn't believe me."

Thomas shook his head sadly. "They destroyed my shop, ruined weeks of work I'd done for the magistrate. Now I've got no wares to sell, and I'm deep in debt."

Azriel tensed as he listened, hands clenching into fists under the table. Illyrians. The description was unmistakable.
Devlon's war bands must have passed through here on their way to find Koschei after they had discarded them at Ramiel. The thought of his own people laying waste to this innocent man's livelihood made his blood boil.

"They had wings, you said?" he asked quietly. "Like bats?"

Thomas nodded, not noticing the tightness in Azriel's jaw. "Aye, great dark wings. Vicious, violent creatures. I'll not soon forget the sight." He shuddered.

Azriel's heart ached. It pained him to think the villagers now probably saw all fae as monsters to be hated and feared.

"Did they hurt you or Margaret?" He asked. And to his surprise Thomas shook his head.

"Just roughed us up a bit when we couldn't tell them about any lake. They seemed crazed, desperate to find it for some reason. Kept going on about a prisoner, someone called Ko-shame or something like that."

Azriel closed his eyes, willing his fury to abate. When he opened them again, he met Gwyn's gaze, seeing his own unease mirrored in her eyes.

"I will help you repay your debt. You have my word." Azriel said. "And we will build your shop up again."

The old man's face softened with gratitude. "You're a good lad, Azriel. But this is not your fault. I could never repay you."

But it was his fault, somehow, wasn’t it? He should have killed that bastard when he had the chance …

Azriel shook his head. "You don’t have to."

With a graceful movement, he rose and bid Thomas and Margaret, who had been eerily quiet, a good night.

----

"Illyrians..." He growled. "Of course, it had to be Illyrians."

Gwyn wrapped her arms around herself. "I know. It's awful."

Azriel paced the small room, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. "It must have been Devlon. When I get my hands on him," his voice was low and dangerous. "I will…"

"You will what?" Gwyn interrupted him. "You can't forever meet violence with more violence. Especially like this. Do I truly need to remind you that you are in no state to take on a fae, let alone the kind that was made purely for war and destruction ?"

Azriel stopped pacing, his body going rigid. He turned to Gwyn, eyes narrowed.

"Thank you for reminding me," he bit out, "as if it wasn't hard enough already. Is that how you see me - saw me? Made for war and destruction?"

Gwyn flinched at his tone but held her ground. "No, Azriel," he vigorously shook his head, refusing to listen to her words. Slowly she approached him, her hands held up in a gesture of peace. "I didn't mean it like that."

Azriel's eyes flashed as he glared at Gwyn. "Then what did you mean?" he demanded through gritted teeth.

Gwyn met his gaze steadily. "I only mean that your upbringing makes you more prone to using violence to solve problems. Especially when you are under stress."

"I'm not under stress," Azriel growled.

"No?" Gwyn raised an eyebrow."Don’t you think I haven’t seen the way you've retreated into yourself the past couple of days. I thought to give you time… but then this downstairs. You were just waiting for a situation like this… so you could snap."

Azriel threw up his hands in exasperation. "I can't believe you're lecturing me about non-violence. I was just trying to protect you! YOU!"

"By killing a man?" Gwyn shot back. "We're supposed to be laying low, remember?"

"I did not lay a finger on him!" He encountered, to which Gwyn retorted: "Because I stopped you!" "So, you think I was looking for a fight," Azriel said calmly. But it wasn’t a comfortable calmness. "That I jumped at the chance to unleash my...brutish Illyrian instincts." His voice dripped bitterness.

Uh, he had it all wrong and this time it was Gwyn, who was shaking her head. Azriel took a step towards her, but he did it in a way that suddenly reminded her that he used to torture people for a living. "My instincts… You think you know anything about my instincts or what I'm going through?" He was nearly shouting now.

Gwyn didn't back down. "I know enough to see the darkness you still carry. The rage. You think it's your only resort, but it isn't. It just hurts you and everyone around you. You gave me a promise, remember? To try. To share that burden. But you are not sharing !!!" Fine, if he wanted anger, she would give him just that.

Azriel blinked, the fire in his eyes dimming. Her words struck deep, touching on the fears and insecurities he tried so hard to bury. His shoulders slumped, and he turned away, suddenly so exhausted, he had to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Gwyn slowly approached and knelt before him, gently taking his hands in hers. "Azriel..." she began softly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled back. I know you're trying."

Azriel sighed, his own anger dissipating as quickly as it had flared. He looked down, unable to meet Gwyn's gaze. "No, you were right. I let the darkness take over again. After everything..." his voice broke, and he took a shuddering breath. "I have been keeping it all in. I'm sorry Gwyn."

He sighed. "But it's only because I didn't want you to have to deal with my shit on top of everything else."

He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "You know... some days it feels like my wings are still there like ghost limbs. I can feel them fluttering and stretching. And sometimes, I send out thoughts or intentions to my shadows, forgetting they're not there anymore. Waiting for them to come back with information." Azriel's face twisted in anguish. "And when they don't respond, it's like I've lost part of myself all over again. Those shadows were a part of me for over five hundred years. Their absence is a constant, gnawing pain."

He looked at Gwyn beseechingly. "I'm not saying any of that is an excuse. I shouldn't have threatened to kill that man, especially not in front of everyone. And I most certainly shouldn't have gotten angry at you. I'll find a better way next time, I promise."

Azriel tentatively reached for Gwyn's hand. "I'm sorry I shut you out when I was struggling. You didn't deserve that. But please know it wasn't because I don't trust or need you." His voice grew thick with emotion. "You are the only thing that keeps me going right now."

Gwyn felt a pang in her heart as she absorbed Azriel's words. In an attempt to comfort him, she wrapped her arms tightly around him and held on. He hesitated only a moment before hugging her back just as fiercely. Not long after, warm tears fell onto her neck, as Azriel finally allowed himself to release some of the pain he had been holding back.

"I'm so sorry," Gwyn murmured, rubbing a hand up and down his back. "You are right. I can't imagine what you're going through. I did not have wings or shadows. Although I miss yours deeply, too. But I'm here for you, Az. You don't have to hide your pain from me. You should know that by now."

Her own eyes well up as she held him. And she realized that he had not been the only one, that had held back.

She desperately missed her friends—Nesta and Emerie, who had become like sisters to her. She missed Cassian's booming laugh and fierce loyalty. And so she told him.

At the mention of Cassian's name, Azriel let out a broken sob, his body shaking. "Cass...," he choked out. "Will we ever see them again?"

Gwyn's heart shattered. She knew how much his brother meant to him. How much they all meant to each other. "We have to believe we will," Gwyn said, though her voice wavered with uncertainty. "Rhysand will find a way to bring us home. He won't stop until he does." That's at least what he had said. And she believed him.

Azriel pulled back, wiping at his eyes. "I just... I'm scared for them. For the war ... while we are trapped here ... in the mortal lands."

Gwyn smoothed back a lock of Azriel's hair, her fingers lingering on his cheek. "I'm scared, too." Azriel covered her hand with his own, turning his head to press a kiss to her palm. The tender gesture made Gwyn's breath catch. How did he always do that?

She gently brushed her thumb over his cheekbone. "We'll get through this," she whispered. And his eyes fluttered closed at her soft touch. When they opened again, they were darker than before.

She leaned in slowly, giving him time to move away if he wished. But Azriel met her halfway, their lips connecting in a soft, tentative kiss.

Gwyn's hand drifted from Azriel's cheek to the nape of his neck as their kiss slowly grew deeper. Azriel's arms encircled her waist, pulling her closer until she was practically in his lap. His mouth moved insistently against hers, all the fear and tension melting away as they lost themselves in each other.

Gwyn sighed softly when Azriel's tongue met hers, the kiss turning hungry and urgent. Her fingers threaded through his hair while his hands roamed her back, tracing intricate patterns that made her shiver. She could feel the hard muscle of his chest pressed against her, the strength coiled within him even in this mortal form.

When they finally broke apart, panting, Azriel rested his forehead against Gwyn's. His eyes were molten gold, burning with need.

"Gwyn," he rasped, "I want...can I..." He seemed unable to form the words, but she knew what he was asking. And she wanted it too.

Gwyn slid her hands under his shirt, fingers dancing over the hard muscles of his stomach. Azriel shuddered.

"Yes," Gwyn whispered. "I want you too. But we have to be quiet."

Azriel's nod held a touch of vulnerability, giving him an almost boyish expression if it weren't for the stubble that had grown along his jawline over the last few days.

With deft fingers, he began unlacing her dress, his hands skimming over each inch of newly exposed skin. Gwyn's breath hitched, desire flooding her body. She returned the favor, tugging Azriel's shirt over his head to reveal the sculpted planes of his chest.

Their clothes fell away piece by piece until nothing remained between them. Azriel lifted Gwyn and laid her back on the bed, the old wood frame creaking slightly under their combined weight. He hovered over her, drinking in the sight of her bare body bathed in moonlight.

"You are just as breathtakingly beautiful as a human, you know that," he murmured.

Gwyn let out a soft laugh, her eyes sparkling with mirth. "You have to say that," she teased, "since I'm your wife."

Azriel chuckled, leaning down to brush his nose against hers. "Perhaps," he said, "but it doesn't make it any less true." He kissed her then, deep and slow, settling between her thighs. Gwyn moaned into the kiss, wrapping her legs around Azriel's waist. His arousal, pressed hard and hot against her inner thigh.

Azriel broke the kiss to trail his lips down Gwyn's neck, along her collarbone, finally taking one peaked nipple into his mouth. She arched into him, raking her fingers through his inky hair. The other hand, she had to clamp over her mouth to muffle her little cries of pleasure.

Azriel lavished attention on her breasts before continuing his path lower, over her quivering stomach and between her legs. When his tongue found her slick heat, Gwyn thought she might come undone right then.

"Azriel..." she gasped, fisting the sheets. He knew just how to touch her, when to ease up, and when she needed more. Her climax hit her like a crashing wave, rippling through every fiber of her being.

Azriel kissed his way back up her body as she caught her breath. Gwyn pulled him down for a searing kiss, tasting herself on his lips and tongue.

"I need you," she whispered against his mouth.

Azriel brushed his lips against her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Need me? But you just had me, my love."

Gwyn huffed in frustration, though a smile teased her lips. "You know very well what I mean, you infuriating male."

"I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific," he purred, trailing kisses along her jaw.

Gwyn rolled her eyes, even as she tilted her head to give him better access. "Fine. I need your cock inside me right now. Is that clear enough for you?"

Azriel groaned deep in his throat and positioned himself at her entrance. "Well, when you put it that way..."

With one smooth motion, he entered her. They both gasped and stilled. Relishing the feeling of being connected so profoundly for the first time since their transformation. Azriel gave her another moment to adjust before he started to move with a steady rhythm.

"You feel so good," Gwyn breathed, as he nuzzled her neck with his warm breath.

She lifted her hips to meet his powerful thrusts, urging him on wordlessly. Azriel quickened his pace, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot inside her that made her see stars. The ancient bed creaked in protest beneath them, which made Gwyn chuckle. But her laugh was morphed into a breathy moan as Azriel's thrust hit the right spot again ... and again ... and again.

"We need to be quiet," she managed to gasp out between moans.

Azriel just smirked and thrust harder, making the bed frame creak loudly beneath them. "I'm sure Margaret and Thomas know exactly what a husband and wife get up to in their bedroom," he murmured in her ear.

His deep voice sent thrills through her body. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. The sound of slapping skin and muffled moans filled the room.

"Azriel..." she whimpered, clutching at his back. She was getting close now, that familiar pressure building low in her core. Sensing how close she was, Azriel slipped a hand between them and stroked that sensitive nub, determined to tip her over the edge.

Gwyn came with a choked cry, her inner walls clenching down on him. Azriel gritted his teeth, fighting his own release until she finished shuddering beneath him. When she finally went limp, he let himself go, emptying himself inside her with a low groan.

They lay there panting for a few moments, bodies slick with sweat and utterly spent. Azriel rolled them onto their sides, tucking her into his chest. He tenderly brushed Gwyn's hair back from her face.

"I meant what I said earlier," he murmured. "You're the only thing keeping me going right now. I don't know what I'd do without you, Gwyn."

She snuggled closer to him, planting a gentle kiss on his lips.

"You won't have to find out. I'm not going anywhere."

Chapter Text

One evening the following week, Margreth eagerly greeted Azriel and Thomas at the door as they returned from work.
"Azriel, you have a visitor," she announced, her eyes brimming with excitement.

Intrigued, he entered the cozy, softly illuminated living area and discovered Mor seated at the dinner table with Gwyn. His heart stuttered.

Instantly, she was on her feet and striding toward him with open arms. He stood still as a statue as she enveloped him in a tight hug, but soon, his hesitation melted away, and he wrapped an arm around her, too.

"By the Cauldron, Azriel, I'm so happy to see you!" Mor exclaimed, pressing her face into his chest, her voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt.

Meanwhile, Margreth gently tugged at Thomas' sleeve, asking to give them some privacy.

Once the elderly couple was gone, Mor pulled back from him, her fingers brushing against his chest as if she couldn't bear to let him go completely.

"I can't believe you're mortal now," her voice caught in her throat as her eyes roamed over his roughened appearance, the smudges of dirt on his face, and the startling absence of his beautiful wings and shadows.

Azriel looked down at himself, painfully aware of the changes his body had undergone.

He nodded in silence, directing all his attention to the woman standing before him, studying her intently. She wore a glamour, he realized, to look equally human and hide her heritage in a place where fae weren't welcome. It was a sobering reminder of how precarious their situation had become.

The glamour was well-crafted, though, disguising the sharp edges of her ears and removing the glow of her skin, but he could still glimpse traces of the warrior princess he had known for centuries.

Memories of a time when he craved this closeness to her flooded his mind. When he had craved her to acknowledge him like she did now—with a soft sentiment in her eyes. The deep yearning that had once consumed him had now faded entirely, giving him a new perspective on the past.

She was never supposed to be his, and neither was he supposed to be hers. Did he actually know anything about Mor? Had his misplaced affection towards her hindered any chance at a genuine friendship. Had they ever penetrated the surface of the other's character, or were they simply two people sharing the same circle of friends?

A deep sense of shame and embarrassment filled him, leaving a bitter, metallic taste in his mouth. Especially when his eyes drifted to Gwyn sitting patiently at the table. His mate. His love.

He knew it was finally time to address this, or they never would.

His expression was solemn yet receptive, as he looked down at Mor. "I'm sorry it took me so long to realize that you and I were never meant to be more. I should have accepted that truth centuries ago instead of clinging to false hope." He let out a deep sigh." I was unfair to you and to myself. I hope you can forgive me. "

Azriel's eyes flickered to Gwyn, who sat watching them with quiet understanding.

Mor raised her gaze to meet his. "There's nothing to forgive. What matters is we both found our way in the end. And I'm really grateful you are still alive."

With a nod, he finally let go of the last remnants of his past desires. A liberating feeling washed over him, tugging him towards the solitary figure perched at the table as he offered Mor a small, fond smile. "Shall we sit?"

Mor accepted and followed him to the table, taking a seat across from Gwyn.

Azriel's eyes remained fixed on his mate as he approached, bending down to plant a tender kiss on the crown of her head in greeting. "Hi," he whispered.

Gwyneth tilted her face upwards, her eyes lighting up. "Hi," she murmured softly, leaning into him. Azriel ran his fingers through her hair, enjoying the sensation of the soft locks before settling into the chair next to her.

Mor watched their interaction, a strange, soft look in her eyes. "You two are sickeningly sweet, you realize that?"

Azriel's brows rose, a small smile playing on his lips. "I haven't got the faintest idea what you mean."

Mor grinned at the pair, unable to hide her joy. "Truly, I am so relieved," she said. "After everything you've been through, it does my heart good to see you together like this."

Azriel's expression softened as he gazed at Gwyn. "I am...very grateful to have her by my side; I don't know how I would get through otherwise," he admitted. Reaching for her hand, he threaded their fingers together. "She's my light… my rock."

Mor's smile turned melancholy as she watched them. "I'm glad you have each other, truly," she said quietly. "Especially with everything happening back home."

At the mention of home, Azriel's contented expression faded. He straightened, his shoulders tensing as he turned his attention back to Mor.

"What news do you bring?" he asked.

She sighed, glancing down at her hands. "It's...not good," she admitted. "My father, Keir... has thrown his support behind Devlon. Rhys is still trying to convince the other High Lords to join our cause, but so far, only Helion has agreed."

She shook her head angrily. "After everything Rhys has done for Prythian, all he's sacrificed, and still they plot against him. I don't understand it."

Azriel's jaw tightened, "We knew some would seek to take advantage of the unrest after the war. Rhys has always had enemies eager to see him fall." His voice hardened. "They never supported the change he brought."

Mor nodded. "Cassian has been training new legions night and day. Preparing for war." Her voice quieted on the last words.

His heart sank, weighed down by the knowledge that his family was struggling and he couldn't be there to support them.

"Rhys misses you on all fronts," she continued, her eyes filled with empathy, "but it's best if you remain here until this is over."

"I guess there hasn't been any time to look into reversing what happened to Gwyn and me?" Azriel asked with a hint of resignation.

Mor sighed and shook her head. "I'm afraid not. Things have been too chaotic."

Azriel nodded, worry lines creasing his forehead. He looked over at Gwyn, wondering if she was as troubled by their predicament as he was.

"How are Feyre and Rhys handling everything?" he inquired.

"As well as can be expected," Mor replied with a weary smile. "Feyre has her hands full with the baby, though she's still finding ways to help Rhys however she can. And Rhys..." She trailed off, brows furrowing. "You know how he gets in times like these. Spread thin trying to hold everything together."

Azriel's chest tightened again. He wished more than anything he could be there to support his High Lord instead of being stuck here, unable to access his powers.

"We'll figure this out eventually," Mor said gently as if reading his thoughts. "For now, just focus on staying alive." Her golden eyes were intent on his.

Azriel nodded, swallowing down the knot of emotions in his throat.

Mor turned to Gwyn with a gentle expression.
"You're deeply missed, too. Nesta gave me this." She handed Gwyn an enchanted letter, explaining that it would find its way back to Nesta once Gwyn had written her response.

"Thank you," Gwyn's voice trembled, nearly shaking as much as her fingers clutching the letter to her chest.

"Also..." Mor's determination shone in her eyes as she rummaged through her satchel. "Rhys wanted me to give you this," she said, pulling out a leather bag that jingled with coins. "So you can provide for yourselves until he can come to pick you up."

Azriel took the bag, feeling the cool metal through the worn leather, and frowned. He opened it to reveal an abundance of gold. Unbidden, a huff escaped his lips, typical of his brother to be so generous. "Does he not realize how conspicuous a sum like this will make us?"

"You know, Rhys." Mor grinned. "Subtlety was never his strong suit."

"Tell him we appreciate his kindness," he said carefully, "but we'll return what's left once this conflict has ended."

Mor's answering smile turned sharp. "I'll pass along the message."

She moved to stand, brushing the nonexistent dust from her breeches.

"I should get going before the glamour wears off," she said. "I must also visit Vassa and Jurian before returning to Velaris."

Azriel inclined his head. "Thank you for coming, Mor."

"Of course." She moved forward to give him a tight hug. Then she turned towards Gwyn.

"I know it's a lot to take in but try not to worry too much. We can fend for ourselves, and your sisters will be fine." She gave Gwyn's arm a reassuring squeeze. "We'll come for you soon. Just stay strong a while longer."

Gwyn blinked back, the wetness pooling in her eyes, and nodded. "Thank you, Mor. Please tell them how much I love them."

Mor embraced her tightly, gently running her fingers through Gwyn's coppery locks. "I will, I swear."
She whispered before pulling away and looking between Gwyn and Azriel one last time.

"Look after each other," she said softly. "And don't let him brood too much." She jerked her chin in Azriel's direction.

"I'll do my best," Gwyn promised, wiping away a tear as she spoke.

With a final wave, Mor strode out of the cottage, the door closing softly behind her. Silence fell in the wake.

Gwyn stared down at the letter in her hands, her fingers tracing over the familiar handwriting. It was as if just holding it brought her closer to Nesta.

So soft touch of a hand brought her back to the moment. She looked up and saw Azriel standing closer than before, watching her with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked softly.

Gwyn bit her lip. There was so much she wanted to say. But the words lodged in her throat. So she just nodded and managed a small smile. But Azriel saw right through it and pulled her flush. Feeling his familiar warmth and strength enveloping her, she allowed herself to release the tears that had been building.

With each sob, the ache in her heart grew more assertive. "I wish I could do more than just hide," she finally admitted with a trembling voice, burying her face into his neck. "It's unbearable knowing they're facing danger without us."

"I know," he murmured into her hair, feeling her fingers trace patterns on his chest. "But in our current form, we wouldn't be much use."

Gwyn let out a long sigh, trying to compose herself. "At least I can write to Nesta now."

Azriel inclined his head in quiet agreement, wishing he could take away the worry that clouded her lovely features. "Please send her and Cassian my regards."

As they embraced each other tightly, a sudden clarity hit him. While they couldn't aid their family back in Prythian, they could still assist those who had kindly offered them a safe haven.

And at last, he could do justice to Gwyn... if only in some way.

Chapter Text

Azriel took in the half-finished chair frame in front of him. Thomas had been teaching him carpentry, patiently guiding his hands in how to measure, cut, and assemble the pieces of wood. It was calming work, even meditative at times. The repetitive motions and the feel of the grain beneath his fingers soothed his restless mind.

He flexed his hands, still in awe at the freedom of movement he now possessed. The vicious scars that had marred his skin were gone, the remnants of a violent past erased. He had not realized how they had restricted him until now - even simple tasks like holding a pen or buttoning a shirt had been agonizing before. But now his hands moved swift and sure as he planed the wood for the chair. The ache that had permeated his joints for centuries was absent. He no longer had to pause and stretch his fingers to alleviate the pain that came with any lengthy work.

It was one of many changes since his transition to a mortal; but one he actually didn’t mind.

Azriel glanced over at Thomas, who was carving the back of another chair nearby. He wanted to properly thank him for his kindness, and he knew just how.

"It's looking good," Azriel said.

Thomas glanced up with a smile. "Should fetch a decent price at the market." After a brief pause, he added with a tinge of sadness, "But it won't make much of a dent in the debt I owe."

"Actually," Azriel began, reaching into his pocket, "I thought about that." He pulled 3 gold coins out and set them on the workbench. "My family was able to send us some money. More than our necessities demand," he clarified. "I wish to settle your debt." Particularly because it had been his own kind that had brought this upon Thomas in the first place.

The old man's eyes went wide, his weathered hands stilling on the wood. "Son, that's too generous. I couldn't possibly-"

Son.

A title that had never been bestowed upon him most certainly not by his own father.

Azriel held up a hand. "Please, I insist. You took us in when we had nothing. You gave us food, shelter, purpose." His voice grew thick with emotion. "Let me do this for you."

The carpenter lowered his gaze, eyes fluttering quickly as if trying to blink back the unexpected. "You've already compensated me with your aid around here," he protested weakly.

But Azriel insisted. "Please, take it," he urged. "It would mean a lot to me and to Gwyn, knowing we could contribute in that way."

Thomas was rendered speechless once more, caught off guard by the sincerity of the gesture. After an extended silence, he lifted his eyes to meet Azriel's earnest ones and gave a solemn nod. "Thank you," he managed to utter in a choked voice. "Your presence has been nothing short of a blessing to our family. We shan't forget it."

Azriel ducked his head, fighting a blush, before turning back to the chair he was working on. A contented silence fell between them again as they sanded and carved.

As his hands moved over the wood, making it smooth, he thought over the past few weeks here. Though he missed his family in Prythian deeply, he did not miss being a Spymaster at all.

Here, there was no need to torture and interrogate, no bloody battles to plan and execute. Just him, Thomas, and the honest work of their hands. Instead of writing pages-long reports late into the night, he now spent his evenings quietly reading by the fire, Gwyn's feet tucked under his leg.

He had found a peace here that had eluded him all his life.

Once again he glanced over to the old man, who was meticulously carving an floral pattern into the chair's backrest. Azriel had come to care deeply for him. Thomas had taken him under his wing, patiently teaching him woodworking secrets passed down through generations of carpenters. He treated Azriel like a real son, his quiet, solid presence providing the acceptance and belonging Azriel had always craved but never found, not even among his found family.

It was a wound; a wound that had been buried deep within, festering for centuries, now demanded to be acknowledged.

The pain of never having had a father, of growing up without the love and comfort of a happy childhood; now it screamed for closure.

"I could use your assistance with something," Azriel coughed, nervously scatching the back of his neck.

Thomas immediately turned to face him. "Sure," he replied. "What do you need?"

"Is there a smith in the vicinity?"

———

"Where are we going?" Gwyn queried, her words punctuated by gasps as she tripped over another tree root. Azriel was pulling her further and further into the forest's heart,the afternoon sun filtering through the canopy above.

He had been acting strangely for the past few days - quieter than usual, lost in thought, yet he consistently evaded any discussion about it.

And now this.

"Azriel?" she asked again when he didn't respond. "Is everything alright?"

"Hmm?" He glanced back at her, as if just realizing she was there. "Oh, yes fine." But the furrow between his brows said otherwise.

She halted him then and there. "Az, what's going on? You've been acting strange."

Azriel pivoted to face her. "I’m sorry, Gwyn. I just...I wanted to show you something." He gestured vaguely towards the dense trees ahead. "There's said to be a waterfall here somewhere. I thought you might appreciate it."

Gwyn studied him for a moment. Despite his typically impassive features, she detected an undercurrent of nervous energy about him.

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. "Lead the way then. I'm sure it's lovely."

Azriel's shoulders relaxed slightly and he continued guiding her along the wooded path. And soon enough the sound of rushing water grew louder.

They pushed past a final barrier of branches and emerged into a small, secluded glen. Ahead of them, crystal clear water cascaded over mossy boulders into a deep pool that glittered in the dappled sunlight. The grassy banks were dotted with wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze. It was utterly idyllic.

Gwyn's eyes widened, enraptured by the tranquil beauty before her. He watched her closely, gauging her reaction.

"It's wonderful!" She turned to him with a radiant smile. "It feels as if we've stepped right into the pages of an enchanting fable," she whispered in awe.

Azriel lifted her hand and brushed a soft kiss to her knuckles. "I'm glad you like it."

Gwyn pulled him eagerly closer to the water, her skirts swishing through the grass. Azriel followed willingly, a hint of a smile playing on his lips, too.

When she let go of his hand and began untying the laces of her boots, he froze.

"Whaat… what are you doing?" he stammered, as she started to remove her stockings next.

She looked at him blankly. "I'm undressing to go swimming, of course. That's why we came here, right?"

"I-I didn't… yea sure… we can do that later" Azriel trailed off, flustered. He took a steadying breath. "Gwyn. Can you come here a moment."

She paused, stockings dangling from her fingers, as she took him in - hands shaking and jaw clenched so tight his pulse was visbly throbbing in his neck. What was going on?

Gwyn set her stockings down and walked over to him. "Az, what's wrong?" she asked gently.

He shuffled his feet, not meeting her gaze. "Nothing's wrong, exactly. I just...there's something I wanted to ask you." He began stuttering, tripping over his words. "You didn't really have a choice in all this..."

Gwyn frowned, tilting her head in confusion. "A choice in what?"

Azriel swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "In being tied to me...in being my mate." He trailed off, raking a hand through his hair in frustration.

"I don't understand," Gwyn said slowly. "Are you saying you regret being my mate?" Hurt flashed in her eyes.

"No!" Azriel said forcefully, taking her hands in his. "No, that's not it at all." He took a deep breath. "What I'm trying to say is that you have suffered a lot because of me. You have made all this decisions, because-"

"I love you! Mating bond or not" she interrupted him."You didn't get to choose to be taken by Devlon either. We were both dealt an unexpected hand."

"I know, but..." Azriel trailed off, gathering his words. "… just let me get this out." He took a deep breath before continuing. "I know our relationship has progressed quicker than I initially intended and now we are thrown together by forces outside of our control." Azriel paused, his golden eyes meeting hers. "I’m really sorry for that. But I wanted you to have this choice."

Gwyn tilted her head, her coppery hair spilling over one shoulder. "What choice?"

He did not answer in words, but sank down before her onto one knee.

And all Gwyn could do was stare, as he gingerly withdrew a petite box, lined with plush velvet, from his pocket.Lifting the lid, it unveiled a scintillating silver band cradling a gemstone of striking teal at its heart - an uncanny reflection of her own irises.

"I don't care about fate or mating bonds or any of that anymore. All I know is that I am hopelessly, desperately in love with you. The mere thought of existing without you is unbearable. So … Gwyneth Berdara, will you do me the honor of properly becoming my wife?"

A gasp escaped Gwyn's lips, her hands instinctively covering her mouth as a surge of tears threatened to spill over. Her gaze locked with Azriel's, who was looking up at her with an unguarded openness, it made her heart clench.

She lowered herself until their gazes were aligned, her hand enveloping his in a tender grip.

"Yes, you wonderful male, yes! A thousand times over!" She cried joyfully. Azriel's face broke into the most radiant smile she had ever seen, as he slid the ring onto her finger where it nestled perfectly.

With a strong sweep of his arms, he lifted her off the ground and twirled her around in the sun-dappled clearing. Their joyous laughter echoed through the trees as they spun faster and faster until they collapsed in a heap, still giggling like children.

Gwyn stroked the rogue locks that fell across Azriel's eyes as they lay sprawled on the grass, still breathing heavily from laughter and exertion.

"Never in my wildest imaginations did I envision I meet someone like you," Gwyn murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "especially after Sangravah." The light in Azriel's eyes dimmed at the mention of that horrible place where he had found her, broken and bleeding. "I never thought I could reclaim such joy."

With a gentle motion, he lifted his hand, tucking a stray coppery curl back behind her ear."You make my heart so full, Gwyn," Azriel confessed. Her eyes sparkled as she looked down at him, her smile radiant with unadulterated happiness.

His hand found its way to the nape of her neck, drawing her closer and sealing their lips together in a kiss that made it seem like she was his sole connection to this reality. His kiss was tender yet insistent, eliciting a soft sound of pleasure from Gwyn as her fingers clenched tightly onto his shirt.

A wave of heat surged through her, pooling low in the pit of her stomach, like it always did, when he kissed her this way. And in response she pressed closer, craving more of the feeling of his body against hers.

Azriel broke the kiss only to trail his lips along her jaw and down her neck and Gwyn tilted her head to give him better access. Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of Azriel's shirt, her touch eager and desperate as she exposes his bare chest.

She pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, tongue flicking out to taste his skin. Azriel growled, a purely male sound that went straight to her core.

His hands tightened in her hair. "Gwyn," he rasped, voice rough with desire.

And then he claimed her mouth again in a kiss that stole her breath.

She shifted her position, sliding over to straddle him fully, her body molding perfectly against his. Gwyn could fell the undeniable hardness beneath her, separated only by the thin fabric of their clothes.

Azriel hissed as she rocked against him, the friction a sweet torture.

His hands fumbled with the laces of her dress, cursing the intricate knots. Gwyn laughed softly, the sound turning into a moan as Azriel abandoned the laces to palm her breasts. He pulled the top of her dress down just enough to expose her, then dipped his head to take a tight bud into his mouth.

Gwyn cried, her back arching as Azriel's tongue swirled around her nipple. He drew her in deeper, sucking hard, as if he couldn't get enough of her. Her hands dug into his dark hair, holding on for dear life.

His other hand traveled down her stomach, pushing up her skirt higher and higher, until he reached the damp slit through her panties. Gwyn whimpered when he ran a single finger along her folds, teasing her entrance before returning to circle her clit.

She gasped, rocking her hips against his touch and Azriel growled in response; hooking his fingers into her panties, yanking them down.

The sexual tension was becoming suffocating, unbearable. They desperately needed to be one.

Gwyn's fingers fumbled with the laces of Azriel's pants, finally succeeding in freeing him from his tight confinement.

Meanwhile, Azriel kept on stroking her bare lower lips, eliciting a rush of wetness to pool between her thighs.

She dragged a thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the bead of precome that had gathered there. His growl deepened. "Don't tease."

A coy smile curled her lips as she continued her ministrations, tracing the ridge of his cock with feather-light touches.

He tightly grasped her hips, unsure if he wanted to slow her down or encourage her to keep going.

He couldn’t think straight at this point. All he knew was her name and how badly he needed to be inside her.

When he couldn't take it any longer, Azriel grasped himself and positioned his cock at her entrance. Gwyn's eyes darkened, her breath catching. Slowly, inch by inch, she sank down onto him.

Azriel's head fell back with a groan, pleasure and relief warring within him. Nothing could compare to being sheathed inside Gwyn's warmth. She paused, adjusting to his size, her inner walls fluttering around him. Azriel grit his teeth, fighting for control. When she began to move, undulating her hips, he met her thrust for thrust.

Their harsh breaths and the slap of flesh echoed through the area. Gwyn clenched around him and Azriel snarled, flipping them over so she was beneath him, never breaking their connection. He drove into her, hard and fast, chasing their release.

Gwyn cried his name, nails digging into his back. Azriel growled into her neck, teeth grazing over her skin, as he found his own peak. His release tore through him, light and shadows exploding behind his eyes.

Gently, he eased out of her, groaning in the process. Once he had shifted onto his back, he promptly gathered Gwyn into his arms. She nestled against him, her head finding its place over his heart, absorbing its steady beat. They remained in that position for an extended period, reveling in the residual warmth of their shared intimacy and the simple comfort of each other's company. The sounds of the forest drifted over them, a soothing lullaby.

Home. This was home.

And it didn’t matter where they were as long as they had each other.

Eventually Gwyn stretched up, leaning over his face to kiss him deeply and sweet. By the time they parted, desire had reignited in his eyes. She grinned, a teasing challenge, and rolled to her feet.

"Last one at the waterfall is a rotten egg!" she laughed, sprinting for the pool before Azriel knew what was happening.

His competitive nature roared to life."Prepare to lose, Berdara," he called after her, scrambling to his feet. Her infectious laughter echoed through the forest as she ran ahead.

"In your dreams. I'm not the one who's still fully dressed," She teased, effortlessly pulling down her dress that Azriel had already loosened during their love making.

Growling under his breath, Azriel yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it aside, not caring that it snagged on a bramble bush. He managed to kick off his boots but only succeeded in tangling himself further in his pants in his haste to be fully rid of them.

"Having some trouble back there?" she called out impishly.

Azriel grunted in reply, finally managing to wrestle his trousers off, while Gwyn had already reached the water. "See you at the waterfall, slowpoke!" she shouted.

"Oh you wait!" he called after her.

Gwyn quickly tried to get out of the shallow water, squeaking when she saw him nearing. She finally reached the deeper levels and began to swim, but Azriel was fast, even in human form.

With only a few more powerful steps, he entered the pool, pushing off after her, muscles burning pleasantly as he swam.

Gwyn was deceptively fast in the water, but Azriel caught up with her in a few strokes.

When she glanced back and saw how near he was, she squealed; tried to swim faster, but soon a pair of muscular arms wrapped around her waist.

"Caught you," he purred in her ear, after he had pulled her backwards, flush against him.

Gwyn squirmed in his grip, though her smile was audible in her voice. "You cheated."

Azriel laughed, the sound rumbling through his chest and into her back. "How so?"

She tried to think of an excuse, but her mind went blank as she became distracted by his strong arms wrapped tightly around her naked form.

The hard planes of his chest against her back, his warm breath tickling her ear.

"I, um..." she stammered, grasping for the right words.

Azriel chuckled again, the sound sending another pleasurable tremor through her.

"I'm waiting," he purred.

Gwyn huffed out a breath, knowing she had already lost this little battle. There was no way she could concentrate properly with Azriel holding her so possessively against him. Not that she really wanted to get away.

"Fine, you win," she conceded.

Azriel made a satisfied noise, as his mouth found the cord of her neck, lips and teeth teasing the sensitive skin. A moan slipped free as heat blossomed low in her belly again.

His hands slid up to cup her breasts, thumbs lazily circling her nipples. They had just made love, but she wanted him again. Wanted to drown in the pleasure only he could give her.

"Az," she breathed, reaching back to sink her fingers into his hair. He growled again, the vibration setting her blood on fire.

One of his hands left her breast, gliding down her stomach. Lower. Parting her folds to find the aching bud within.

Gwyn cried out softly at the contact, canting her hips in silent plea for more. Azriel obliged, stroking and circling in a rhythm that made her dizzy with need.

"Please," she whispered. There was no shame in begging for this. For him.

"What is it you want, Gwyn?" his voice a husky whisper. "Tell me, and it's yours."

Gwyn shuddered, desire burning hotter than any fire. "You," she breathed. "I want you, Az."

And he found immense delight in providing her exactly that.

Positioning himself at her entrance from behind, Azriel nudged forward in a slow, torturous slide. Something akin to a cry escaped Gwyn's lips at being thoroughly filled again, her fingernails biting into his arms.

"Yes," she growled, as he gripped her hips to still her squirming. "Just like that."

He pulled back slowly, until just the tip remained, before pushing back in with more force. Gwyn gasped, stars bursting behind her eyelids. Azriel set a brutal pace, pounding into her with deep, powerful strokes.

The water sloshed around them, tiny waves lapping at Gwyn's breasts in time with his thrusts. She bowed her back, writhing against him as he hit that spot deep inside.

"Azriel," she moaned, clenching around him. "I'm so close."

He slid one hand down to find the apex of her thighs, circling the sensitive nub of flesh with his thumb and Gwyn shattered around him, her inner walls fluttering and gripping.

Azriel gritted his teeth against the onslaught of sensation, hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge. He spilled himself inside her with a groan, clutching her close.

Gwyn hummed in contentment, tilting her head up to brush her lips over his jaw. "I love you so much," she whispered.

Azriel's heart swelled. "And I love you, Gwyneth Berdara. Now and forever."

Chapter Text

Gwyn's fingers traced the shimmering words etched on the enchanted parchment, a fragile connection to Nesta in faraway Prythian. She had shared with Nesta the joyous news of Azriel's proposal and their plans to wed following human customs. In response, Nesta's heartfelt words conveyed her longing to be with them, her love for Gwyn and Azriel, and Cassian's ache for his brother's company.

The letter slipped from Gwyn's fingers as Nesta's elegant script blurred before her eyes, the pain in her chest sharp as a knife. She knew it wasn't their fault, knew Prythian needed them far more than she ever could, but still. The hollow place inside her remained, vast and echoing.

Azriel'shands slid around her waist, his chin hooking over her shoulder.

"Do not cry, my love," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the curve of her neck. "We will see them again."

She twisted in his arms, gazing up at his handsome face. His eyes were twin amber flames, soft with understanding. "I know," she said, wiping at her eyes. "I just wish--"

He kissed her then, slow and deep, stealing the words from her lips. His hands slid under her shirt, tracing the curve of her spine, the shape of her ribs. A shiver ran down her back at the touch, heat pooling low in her belly. By the time he pulled away, her tears had dried--replaced by an ache of an entirely different sort.

"There is a gift waiting for you," he said, eyes gleaming, "if you're interested."

A flush crept over her cheeks as she arched a brow. "What gift?"

He grinned, tugging her downstairs. "Come and see."

Gwyn's breath caught as she descended the stairs. At the bottom waited Margareth, a vision of white fabric draped over her arm.

"My dear," she said, "this is for you." She held up a gown .

It was simple yet so beautiful - ivory lace and silk that shimmered softly in the lantern light. The long sleeves were embroidered with ornaments, the neckline just revealing enough to be alluring. Gwyn reached out to touch it, marveling at the care Margareth had put into this gift.

"Oh, it's lovely," Gwyn breathed, meeting Margareth's warm gaze. "You made this...for me?"

Margareth smiled, her weathered face creasing. "I wanted you to feel like a real bride tomorrow."

Azriel had confided in them, that their previous wedding had been lacking in all customary traditions and how much he longed to rectify that mistake and give Gwyn the proper wedding she deserved.

Gwyn's eyes misted. This woman's kindness meant more than she could express. "Thank you so much," she whispered.

And so it was in this dress that Azriel first laid eyes on his bride the next morning.

His heart properly skipped a few beats as she entered the small sanctuary.

The morning light filtering through stained glass and set her aflame in color. Her copper hair shone like embers, twisted back in braids woven with baby's breath. The gauzy veil did little to obscure her beauty, instead enhancing it, softening her features into a vision straight from an artist's dream.

When their eyes met, the rest of the world fell away.

Those clear teal eyes that shone like jewels and saw straight through to his soul. In them there was so much joy, love, trust...emotions he never dreamed would be meant for him. Yet here she was, radiant and smiling, ready to pledge herself to him in front of these kind villagers who knew nothing of them besides that they were deeply in love.

Azriel had to blink back tears as Gwyn reached the front and took his hands in hers. He wanted to fall to his knees right then and there, overcome with gratitude that this remarkable woman had chosen him. That after everything she had suffered, after everything he had endured, they had found each other eventually; finally.

The ceremony began, intimate and beautiful in its simplicity. The priest led them through the rite, eventually asking them to take their vows.

"I herewith take you, Azriel Berdara, as my husband," Gwyn declared, her voice strong and clear despite the tremble that betrayed her nerves. She smiled at him warmly, love and devotion shining in her gaze.

Something within Azriel cracked open, tears spilling over, leaving hot paths down his cheeks. It was a sensation foreign to him, to cry so openly in front of others but he welcomed it. It was somehow a testament to how much he had changed, since he had met this incredible woman standing before him.

"And I, Azriel Berdara, take you, Gwyneth Berdara, as my wife," he declared, his voice thick with emotion. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in his throat. "I swear to cherish you, to protect you and support you for as long as I live."

Gwyn's smile grew even wider at his words and she reached out to squeeze his hands tightly.

"Drink from this cup," the priest instructed, presenting them with a chalice filled with wine. "As you share in its contents, so too shall you share in each other's joys and sorrows."

Gwyn's lips brushed against the rim of the chalice, her eyes locked with Azriel's as she drank deeply. The taste of the wine was rich and heady.

As she passed the cup, Azriel couldn't help but think that he had never felt more alive than he did right then, despite his mortality - or perhaps because of it.

"Let this cord bind not only your hands but your hearts as well," the priest intoned, looping the silken material around their joined hands. "From this day forth, you are one - united in love, trust, and devotion."

As the ceremony concluded and they shared a tender but soul-stirring kiss, he knew that whatever trials life had in store for them, they would manage.

Because they had each other – a love that defied all odds.

As they exited the sanctuary into the bright daylight, hand in hand, Azriel and Gwyn were greeted by the beaming faces of Margareth and Thomas.

"Oh, my dears!" Margareth cried, rushing forward to embrace them both. Her wrinkled hands cupped Gwyneth's face as tears of joy shone in her eyes. "You make such a beautiful bride."

Thomas strode up to Azriel and pulled him into a hearty hug, pounding his back. "Congratulations, son," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. And somehow Azriel’s heart expanded even more.

"Thank you, for everything," he said sincerely to both of them.

"Nonsense, you're like family now," Margareth tutted, linking her arm through Gwyn's. "Now come, we have a little wedding feast prepared back at the house!"

Azriel and Gwyneth exchanged delighted looks. They had not expected anything further from their new mortal friends.

The elderly couple led them down the tree-lined path towards their home, chattering excitedly about the food and decorations they had spent all night preparing just for them.

Back at the cozy cottage, Margareth and Thomas had set up a table overflowing with mouthwatering food - roasted meats, warm bread, cheeses, fruits and sweets.

It was simply decorated, with wildflowers in mason jars lining the table and windowsills. Vines of ivy were draped along the mantle and intertwined with white candles.

Despite the modest surroundings, it was the most beautiful feast Gwyneth could have imagined. The care and intimacy radiating from it was worth more than any lavish ballroom or ornate centerpieces.

As they sat down to eat, Gwyneth was touched to see Thomas had carved small wooden figurines for them - a male and female, crafted with so much skill. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood, marveling at the thoughtful gift.

"These are for your future children," Thomas explained with a smile, causing Gwyn's cheeks to flush pink.

She ducked her head, glancing shyly at Azriel through her lashes.

Children.

They had never discussed it, not once in all their time together. The future had always felt so uncertain, their lives too fractured by war and loss to imagine something so normal as having a family.

Azriel's eyes had gone wide, surprise flickering across his normally stoic face. Gwyneth wondered if he had ever envisioned himself as a father. If the idea filled him with the same mingled joy and trepidation coursing through her now.

She cleared her throat, fingers curling tightly around the wooden figurine in her palm.

"We, um...we haven't really talked about that," she stammered. Her cheeks reddened further.

Azriel nodded, looking as flustered as she felt. His voice was gruff when he replied.

"No, we haven't." He paused, gazing at her with an unreadable expression.

He then reached for her hand, running his thumb over her knuckles soothingly.

When Thomas was out of hearing range, Azriel leaned in closer to Gwyn.

"I never thought I would have this. A mate, a wife..." Once more, his fingers gently glided over the back of her hand. "Children were beyond my wildest dreams. But with you..."
He exhaled slowly. "I can imagine that future, Gwyn. I can imagine it all with you."

Gwyn's hand trembled as she reached out to hold his, their intertwined fingers fitting perfectly together. She struggled to choke back sobs as she whispered, "I feel the same way."

After the hearty meal, during which they laughed and shared stories over goblets of wine, Thomas brought out a fiddle. The spritely music filled the home, and Azriel whirled Gwyneth around the room in an exuberant dance.

As the final crumbs of their savory feast were cleared, they settled into the living area.

With a twinkle in his eyes, Thomas brought out his fiddle and began playing a lively tune. Azriel stood up and bowed dramatically before Gwyn, holding out his hand.

"May I have this dance, wife?" he asked, a playful grin on his face.

She laughed but accepted. "You may, my dear husband."

Azriel swept her into his arms and they began dancing around the room, twirling and stepping in time to the music. Thomas played with enthusiasm, stomping his foot to keep the beat while Margareth clapped along.

Azriel spun Gwyn around and dipped her low before pulling her back up. Their eyes locked and Gwyn saw pure joy reflected there. Her own heart felt so full it could burst.

The music eventually slowed to a soft, sweet melody. Gwyn rested her head on Azriel's shoulder as they swayed together and breathed in his scent - cedar and rain; something uniquely him.

Even though she longed for her family back in Prythian, this day had been perfect and Gwyn knew it would be a cherished memory forever.

-

Azriel awoke as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the window. For a moment he simply gazed at Gwyn's sleeping form beside him, hair fanned across the pillow and lips curved in a soft smile. His wife. The word still felt new and unfamiliar on his tongue, and yet it settled in his chest with a warmth and rightness he'd never known.

He brushed a kiss to her forehead, unable to stop himself from smiling at the way she nestled closer with a contented sigh. "Time to wake, my love."

Gwyn's eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep. Then they widened, scanning the room until they found the wedding dress across the chair, and her gaze snapped back to Azriel. A blush crept over her freckled cheeks. "So it wasn't a dream."

"No," he said, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "You're well and truly stuck with me now."

Her blush deepened, but her smile was radiant. "Never stuck. Always chosen."

Chapter Text

Gwyn paced anxiously along the edge of the forest clearing, her fingers worrying at the hem of her dress.

It had been three long months in the human lands.
Three long months since that fateful day when Koschei stole their power, their immortal lives.

Three long months since their lives had irrevocably changed.

At first, she thought it would be a temporary exile until Rhysand and the others could find a way to reverse what had happened. But as the weeks turned into months with no word or sign of rescue, Gwyn came to understand that they might be stuck here for far longer than they originally intended.

She and Azriel had been fortunate to find sanctuary with the kindly human couple, Thomas and Margareth. But with each passing day, Gwyn felt increasingly out of place in this world. She missed Velaris, missed her friends, and missed having access to her Fae abilities. Missed feeling like she belonged.

And now there was something else…

Something that filled her with equal parts exhilaration and dread.

She hadn't even considered the possibility at first. Didn't make much of it that she hadn't bled once since becoming human. After all, cycles came once or twice a year as fae.

But then the subtle changes started adding up: the lingering fatigue no matter how much she rested, the queasiness that seemed to strike at odd times, even when she hadn't eaten anything unusual.

And then two mornings ago, when she'd gone to wash up at the basin... she'd noticed her breasts were unusually tender. Almost painfully so. And as she'd glanced down, it was impossible to miss - the slight but unmistakable swell of her belly.

She counted back in her mind to when she and Azriel had first lain together in this form, overwhelmed by new sensations and feelings. It must have happened then.

She was pregnant. Carrying Azriel's child.

Gwyn wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry at the absurdity of it all. That is why she had written to Nesta, desperate for guidance from the one person she needed now more than anyone else.

Her heart began racing as she glimpsed a familiar figure approaching through the thick forest, sunlight dappling the path.

Nesta.

Her eyes stung as she picked up her skirts and broke into a run. Nesta rushed forward, arms outstretched, her face crumpling.

They collided in a tangle of limbs and tears, clinging to each other as if they'd never let go. Gwyn buried her face in Nesta's neck, inhaling the familiar lavender scent of her, a piece of home.

"I missed you so much," Gwyn whisper-cried.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry it took me so long." Nesta's voice broke. "I came as soon as I could."

Gwyn pulled back to look into her eyes. "You came. That's all that matters."

Nesta wiped a tear from Gwyn's cheek. "Of course, I came. I will always come for you."

Gwyn sniffed, a watery smile curving her lips. "Just like I will always come for you."

Nesta gave a wet chuckle. "I see nothing has changed."

Gwyn squeezed her eyes shut against the fresh wave of tears. "Well… that is not quite true."

She hesitated for a moment, her heart thundering in her chest as she looked back to her chosen sister.
"Do you... do you smell or hear anything?"

Nesta's brow furrowed as she concentrated. The world seemed to hold its breath, waiting for her answer.

"Yes," Nesta whispered after a few moments, her eyes widening in surprise. She leaned closer to Gwyn, her expression a mix of concern and astonishment. "You are definitely pregnant. But…"

Gwyn's heart clenched in her chest, her hands suddenly clammy with anxiety. "What but?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

Nesta reached out to touch Gwyn's shoulder, her fingers trembling slightly. "I can... I can hear three heartbeats. Yours and then two quieter ones." Her words hung heavy in the air like the scent of impending rain.

Gwyn felt as if the ground had given way beneath her feet, leaving her spinning in a whirlwind of shock and disbelief. "Two?" she choked out, her hands instinctively moving to rest on her abdomen.

Nesta nodded solemnly, her own eyes filling with tears. "Yes, it appears you are carrying twins."

Twins. The word echoed through Gwyn's head like the tolling of a distant bell. She had never thought she would be a mother, not of one, let alone two.

Gwyn's mind automatically drifted back to memories of her and Cathrin as young children, playing and laughing together in the gardens of Sangravah. She remembered Cathrin's mischievous grin as she would sneak extra desserts from the kitchens, hiding the evidence in the folds of her dress. She could almost hear Cathrin's delighted squeals as they chased each other through the hedge mazes, getting hopelessly lost for hours.

Gwyn's heart ached as she thought of her twin sister, gone too soon. Though they had their differences growing up, there was an unbreakable bond between them, a connection that not even death could sever. Gwyn stroked over the swollen flesh of her belly, taking in that it contained two new lives, two beings who would share that same sacred twin bond.

But did Azriel want this? They had briefly discussed it on their wedding day but have yet to consider the implications of having them as humans. Not to mention what it would mean to their plans and hopes to return to Velaris one day.

And yet, here it was – a reality that threatened to shake the very foundations of her being.

"Gods, Nesta," she breathed, tears spilling over as the weight of it all threatened to crush her. "What do I do?"

Nesta pulled Gwyn into her arms, holding her tight against her chest. "Shhhhh. We'll figure it out."

Gwyn collapsed into Nesta's embrace, her body convulsing with violent sobs. Nesta cradled her trembling form, whispering soothing words as she ran her fingers through Gwyn's hair. Tears streamed down both of their faces.

"I'm so scared," Gwyn choked out. "I don't know if I'm ready for this. What if Rhys finds a way to undo what Koschei did?"

She trembled as she considered it. If Rhys found a way to return their Fae forms, what would become of the babies?

Gwyn pictured them blinking up at her with their father's golden eyes, one with darker hair and one with coppery brown like hers. The thought twisted her heart.

She clutched Nesta tighter, her tears soaking into Nesta's tunic. "The babies... they'll stay human if we're turned back," she whispered. "I cannot watch them grow old and die."

Nesta cupped her face gently." I don't know what will happen, sweetheart. This is uncharted territory."

"I'm not ready for this." Gwyn let out a shuddering breath. "I want to come home."

"I know. But is one ever ready for children? And believe me, I want you home too." Her voice broke on the last words. "Whatever you decide, I am here for you. All of you." She hesitated before she added. "There are ways though, if you … if you do not wish to continue the pregnancy-"

"No," Gwyn cut in, "No, I...I couldn't… I do … I want them." The words tumbled out unbidden, surprising her. But she knew as she said them it was true.

She was terrified, uncertain of what the future held, but she could not bear the thought of harming them.

Her children. They were a part of Azriel, after all. How could she not love them already?

Nesta smiled and brushed a tear from Gwyn's cheek. "Then that's all that matters. And the rest we will figure out. Step by step."

Gwyn nodded, fresh tears welling in her eyes. "Az doesn't know yet."

"Then you need to tell him," Nesta said gently. "No matter how difficult it is, he deserves to know."

Gwyn dropped her gaze. "I know. I'm just... I'm scared of how he'll react."

Nesta took her hands in her own. "Azriel loves you, Gwyn. Anyone with eyes can see that. This may come as a shock, but I'm sure he will support you no matter what."

Gwyn nodded, some of the tightness in her chest easing. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Nesta said with a soft smile. "That male would move mountains for you if you asked it of him."

Despite her nerves, Gwyn couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. The image of Azriel literally moving mountains at her command was both absurd and so true to character.

After a long embrace and a promise to give her love to Emerie and Cassian, Nesta left and went back into the woods, leaving Gwyn alone with her thoughts.

She had no idea how to break the news to him.

They had grown so close over the last years, their relationship shifting from mentor and student to friends and confidants and eventually to that of lovers.

Now, they were on the precipice of yet another transformation - that of becoming parents.

Even with their mating bond, this pregnancy would change everything between them.

Gwyn prayed the Mother would give her courage and began her way back to the cottage.

Because Nesta was right.

It was time. Time to tell Azriel he was going to be a Father.

Chapter Text

As the men returned from work, the village was already bathed in the setting sun's warm, golden glow.

Azriel dragged his exhausted body through the front door of the cottage, his muscles aching from the long day of chopping and hauling lumber. All he wanted was to clean off the grime and collapse into bed next to Gwyn.

As he entered, Azriel glanced around, hoping to see Gwyn's bright smile, expecting her to tease him about the sawdust that no doubt clung to his hair.

At this hour, she was usually in the kitchen with Margareth, chatting amiably as they prepared the evening meal.

Brow furrowing, Azriel made his way through the cozy rooms in search of her.

The kitchen was filled with the gentle sounds of Margareth kneading dough and the crackle of fire.

"Hello Margareth, have you seen Gwyn?" he asked.

The older woman looked up from her task, concern in her warm brown eyes. "She hasn't been feeling well today, poor dear. She went up to rest about an hour ago."

Azriel's hand instinctively went to his chest as he felt his heart pounding faster and harder.

Gwyn had seemed perfectly fine last night. Or had she?
If he was being truthful, he had been so worn out that he had fallen asleep right after dinner. And when he left for work this morning, she was still in deep slumber.

After washing his hands and arms quickly, Azriel hurried up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

His heart was beating like a frenzied drumbeat by the time he reached the door.

He gently pushed it open.

Gwyn sat at the windowsill, her fingers absently twisting a strand of her fiery hair.

She seemed lost in thought, her gaze fixed upon the distant horizon as if searching for some kind of answer in the vast expanse of the sky.

The sight of her in her white nightgown, bathed in the soft light but clearly tensed shoulders, was both breathtaking and gut-wrenching.

"Love," he murmured softly," What's wrong?"

Gwyn turned to look at him, her eyes swimming with unshed tears. "Azriel I... I need to tell you something."

Anxiety squeezed his heart like a vice grip as he considered the implications of what that could mean.

Was she ill?

Had something happened back home?

Was one of his brothers dead? Nesta? Emmerie?

He approached her slowly like one might with a skittish animal. He stopped before her, reaching out to take her hands in his own, marveling at how perfectly they fit together.

Her eyes met his, and his heart nearly shattered at the vulnerability he found there.

"Tell me what it is, Gwyn," Azriel urged gently, his grip on her hands tightening in silent reassurance.

"Please, don't be angry," she whispered, her lower lip quivering.

"Never."

"It's just...I don't know how to say this. I'm scared."

"I'm here, love," he murmured, keeping his voice calm and composed, although he felt quite like the opposite on the inside. "Whatever it is, I'm here. You're not alone."

Gwyn's eyes brimmed with tears. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words came out jumbled and broken, like a fragile porcelain doll shattering on the floor.

"Az, we... we've messed up so badly," she stammered, her voice trembling with emotion. "I can't, I just can't..."

"What do you mean?" he urged gently, drawing her hands to his lips, pressing reassuring kisses against her knuckles.

Gwyn took a shuddering breath, and then the words began to come faster. Broken sentences spilling forth like dammed water finally released.
"I can't kill them, Az. I can't. I already love them, but –" her sobs interrupted her. "But we won't ever be able to return home now."

Panic surged through Azriel's veins, his mind racing as he attempted to decipher her fragmented confessions.

Who was she talking about?

Margareth and Thomas?

Gwyn's sobs grew more intense, her body shaking with the force of her tears. Azriel's heart clenched as he tried to calm her down. The sight of her so distraught was unbearable.

"Hey, hey," he murmured, brushing away her tears with his thumbs. "Please, Gwyn, slow down for me. I don't understand what you're saying." His voice was drenched with worry.

"Kill... Kill who?" he asked softly, trying to piece together the fragments of information she had given him. He needed to know what was causing her such pain so he could fix it.

Gwyn hiccuped, her eyes swimming in anguish as she struggled to find the words to explain the truth that weighed so heavily on her.

"Tell me. Please," he implored, his own voice cracking now. "I can't bear to see you like this."

"I'm... I'm pregnant," Gwyn finally stammered. "With twins."

Azriel's heart seemed to stop in his chest, the words echoing through his mind like a thunderclap. Pregnant? Twins? He stared at Gwyn, uncomprehending, as she continued to speak, her voice barely audible.

"We didn't use any contraceptive... since we were turned," she whispered, tears still streaming down her cheeks. "I'm almost three months along, Azriel."

"Are you sure?" Azriel choked out, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

His thoughts were in a frenzy, attempting to comprehend the significance of what she had just revealed. The idea of becoming a father - of bringing new life into this world with the woman he loved more than anything - he had never dared to dream of such a reality.

Gwyn nodded, her sobs subsiding as she clung to Azriel's hands for support. "I met with Nesta earlier today. She could hear their heartbeats, Az. Two tiny, perfect heartbeats."

Azriel's heart swelled with a love so immense it threatened to shatter all the walls he had built around himself. He was going to be a father - to twins, no less - and the thought of it filled him with a sense of purpose he had never experienced before.

"I couldn't... I couldn't bring myself to even consider ending their lives, for they are a part of us, of you, of me. But now, we can never return to Prythian if they find a way to turn us back." Gwyn said.

He understood her fear, the conflict that tore at her heart. Even if Rhys found a way to undo what Koschei had done to them, returning to Prythian would endanger their children.

It would mean accepting to watch them age and die, accepting they would forever be outsiders.

No, they could not let that happen.

"Or at least one of us can't, " she added.

He felt as if the world stopped spinning momentarily as he processed her words.

One of us can't.

Did she believe he could leave her - them?

Overwhelmed by all of these emotions, Azriel did not realize he was crying too, till the drops violently hit the floor.

He sank to his knees before Gwyn. The weight of it all, the love for her and their unborn children bringing him low.

Gazing up at her, he reached out to cradle her belly with trembling hands.

"I swear to you, Gwyn," he vowed, his voice breaking with the force of his devotion. "Over my dead body will anyone harm our children. We will protect them, no matter the cost. And I will be by your side no matter what."

Sensing the depth of his resolve, Gwyn's fingers threaded through his dark hair. "Thank you," she cried. "Thank you for loving us."

"Always," he sobbed. "Until the stars turn to dust and the world falls away, I will love the three of you with all that I am."

Chapter Text

"Where are you taking me?" Gwyn demanded, her brows furrowing in frustration as she struggled to keep up with Azriel's long strides.

Her now heavily pregnant belly made it increasingly difficult for her to navigate the uneven terrain of the forest her husband currently dragged her over.

"Patience," Azriel murmured, his deep voice laced with amusement. "I know it's not one of your many qualities. But I promise it will be worth the walk."

Azriel came to an abrupt stop as Gwyn's hand tightened around his, causing him to stumble. He turned to her and saw the shock written all over her face, her eyes wide and mouth slightly open. It was almost comical, and he had to suppress a laugh.

"You did not just call me impatient."

"Sure did," he retorted.

"I'll have you know I am the absolute epitome of patience. How else could I be married to you."

He openly laughed at that, the sound rich and warm. "I recall a certain incident last week involving you, a batch of fresh cookies, and a very hot oven."

"That was one time!" Gwyn protested, swatting his arm playfully.

Azriel's eyes danced with mirth. "One of many."

"You're one to talk."

Azriel glanced back at her, golden-brown eyes glinting, while he set them into motion again, "I haven't the faintest idea what you mean."

"Is this your version of patience, dragging me along like this? We could have just taken a leisurely walk around the village. Personally, I would have preferred that option."

He threw a roguish grin over his shoulder. "And miss out on watching you waddle after me? Not a chance."

Gwyn's eyes flashed with indignation. "Waddle?! I'll have you know I'm -"

"Lumbering?" Azriel supplied innocently. "Tottering? Ah, I've got it - galumphing!"

"Galumphing?!" Gwyn practically shrieked, her cheeks flushing an alarming shade of scarlet. Azriel took one look at her outraged expression and burst out laughing, a full-throated sound of pure mirth that echoed through the trees.

And gods, was she magnificent when she was angry.

Gwyn only glowered at his back. "Enjoy that laugh, husband," she warned. "It'll be your last. Now tell me where you are taking me. "

But Azriel had stopped, pointing through a gap in the foliage. "Look there." Warily, Gwyn stepped up beside him and followed his gaze. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught. There, nestled in a small clearing, was the skeletal frame of a cottage. Sturdy beams of honey-colored wood formed the bones, while piles of thatch and river stone lay ready to become the roof and walls. It was rough, unfinished... but utterly charming.

"Oh," Gwyn breathed, her earlier irritation forgotten. "Did you... is this...?"

"Ours," Azriel confirmed softly as he led her nearer, "Yours, mine, and the little ones. "

"I know it's not much yet," he said, a hint of uncertainty now in his voice, "but Thomas and I have been working on it for weeks. "His hazel eyes searched her face, gauging her reaction. "I wanted to surprise you."

Gwyn could only stare. "Az," she murmured, her voice catching on a sob, "it's perfect."

His shoulders relaxed, a soft smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "It's not finished," he reminded her, ever the pragmatist, "but it will be soon." He tugged her closer. "I wanted to make sure it was close enough to the village but far enough away that our family can visit without being seen."

Gwyn leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder as she imagined it - Nesta and Cassian, Rhys and Emerie, all of them together, laughing and talking and doting on the twins. It was a beautiful dream, made all the more precious by the knowledge that it could be a reality.

"You thought of everything," she murmured, turning her head to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "Thank you. I truly don't know what else to say."

He captured her chin with gentle fingers, tilting her face up to his. "You never have to thank me, Gwyn." His eyes were solemn, the gold flecks in them glinting in the fading light. "You and these babies... you're my world. My everything. There's nothing I wouldn't do for you."

Unable to find the words to express the depth of her feelings, she simply stretched up and kissed him, winding her arms around his neck and pouring every ounce of her love into the caress. He responded in kind.

"How did I get so lucky?" she wondered aloud, thumbs brushing the short hairs at his nape.

Azriel's hands settled on her belly. "I ask myself the same thing every day," he murmured, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. "I never thought I'd have this. You, a family of my own..." He swallowed thickly. "I'm the lucky one, Gwyn."

She made a sound caught between a laugh and a sob, pulling him impossibly closer. "We're both lucky, then. And you are going to be an amazing father, Az."

"I don't know about that. I just..." He swallowed hard, his expression turning vulnerable. "I just want to give them everything I never had."

"You will. These babies... they're going to grow up so loved. So cherished. "

Tears glimmered in Azriel's eyes as he cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "I love you," he whispered fiercely. "I love you so damn much, Gwyn."

"And I love you, Az. "

———

After what seemed like an eternity, Gwyn finally reached the front porch. Her husband had called for her, but at nearly nine months pregnant with twins, even the simplest tasks like walking down the stairs had become a challenge.

"We've got visitors!" he declared.

Shading her eyes against the bright sun, she watched as her husband brought four figures forward. Her heart leaped when the glare shifted, and she recognized who it was.

"Gwyn!"

She could hardly believe it when Nesta and Emerie rushed towards her, arms open wide. She had missed her friends so much over the past several months, and seeing them now… she was overwhelmed with joy.

Nesta reached her first, throwing her arms around Gwyn's neck and squeezing tight. Gwyn laughed as she hugged her back.

Emerie was next, practically knocking them over with the force.

"We've missed you so much!" Emerie said, wiping at her eyes.

"Oh, Em and I have missed you!" Gwyn answered.

They pulled back, and Nesta cooed over Gwyn's belly, her gentle hands lovingly caressing the swell.

"You are so big!" Nesta exclaimed, to which Gwyn's face twisted uncontrollably.

Before she could respond, Cassian lifted her up into his arms and embraced her gently. "You are glowing," he said.

Gwyn squealed in surprise, "Put me down!"

But Cassian only laughed and spun her around. "Come now, Gwynnie, let me dote on you."

She smacked his shoulder urgently. "I mean it, you oaf! I'm going to pee myself!"

And when Cassian gently lowered her back onto her feet, she let out a sigh of relief. "I feel like a beached whale."

"Don't be silly; you're still as light as a feather." He flashed her a grin, and Gwyn couldn't help but return it, loving how he looked at her with such adoration.

"Smooth talker. But I'll take it, especially since all I ever get from your brother is insults."

"That's so not true," Azriel objected. "I tell you how beautiful you look all the time."

"Oh really?" Gwyn challenged. "When exactly? This morning when you called me a slug?"

Azriel's cheeks flushed as everyone laughed. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Alright, maybe not a slug per se. More like a graceful snail?"

"Uh-huh."

Stepping around Azriel, Rhysand came into view, grinning widely at them. "You look absolutely radiant, Gwyn," he exclaimed.

And Gwyn smiled.

She intertwined her arm with Cassian's and reached for Emerie's hand.

"I can't believe you are really here!" she managed to say before she choked back another sob.
"Come inside, I'll make some tea, and we can catch up."

After following Gwyn's instructions and catching up on the current political situation in Prythian, Azriel took Cassian and Rhys on a tour around the cottage.

He pointed out the various rooms and features he had added. Though modest in size, it was clear he had poured his heart into making it a home for him and Gwyn.

"And this," he said, pushing open a door at the end of the hallway, "will be the nursery."

The room was awash in soft, golden light, filtering through gauzy curtains that fluttered in the gentle breeze. A beautifully crafted crib stood against one wall, its wood polished to a warm sheen. Beside it, a rocking chair waited, a soft blanket draped invitingly across its back.

Rhys admired the intricate woodwork along the walls and ceiling. "This is remarkable, Az. You've become quite the carpenter."

Cassian joined. "Yeah, that's incredible. And you did that all by yourself?" Cassian joined.

Azriel ducked his head. "I had help from Thomas, the man who took us in."

He ran a hand along the smooth wood of the crib, his eyes distant. "I never thought I could have this, you know? But now…" His voice caught, and he swallowed hard. "Now, I can't imagine my life any differently anymore."

Cassian clapped a hand on Azriel's shoulder. "She's been good for you, brother. Despite all the things that have happened. I haven't seen you this happy...well, ever."

Azriel nodded, his face softening. "She's the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Just then, as if knowing they were talking about her, Gwyn appeared in the doorway. "Are you boys done with the tour? We have prepared dinner."

Cassian beamed, striding over and slinging an arm around her shoulders. "We sure are! Lead the way."

Azriel made to follow after them but paused when he noticed Rhys lingering behind, an odd look on his face.

"Can I have a moment?" the High Lord finally asked.

"What is it?"

Rhysand studied him intently. "Az, are you sure this is what you want?"

Azriel's brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"Choose this mortal life," Rhys implored. "I could still find a way to make you immortal and bring you back to Velaris."

"And what about the twins?"

"You can have all the children you both want once you are fae again…"

Understanding dawned on what Rhys was implying, and Azriel's expression hardened as he stared at him incredulously. "You want me to give up my children? Or kill them?" he growled in disbelief.

Rhys held up his hands defensively. "Az, that's not what I'm saying. I just can't stand the thought ... you are my brother."

"And you are mine," Azriel retorted. "Yet you made your bargain with Feyre without considering what Cassian and I would do when your lives end. Now, you stand here and ask me to sacrifice my own flesh and blood for your comfort?"

Rhys' violet eyes glistened with emotion. "You're right," he conceded softly. "It was selfish of me, and I am thinking of myself again now." He sighed deeply. "Forgive me, Az. I want nothing more than your happiness, whatever form it takes."

Azriel's stance softened. "Look, I came to the realization that this is a gift and not a curse. A chance to have the life I never thought possible." He exhaled hard.

"Don't get me wrong, I miss you all very much. And it pains me to not witness Nyx growing up." His voice was rough, thick with feeling. "But not having to worry for the next war, working with my own hands," he lifted his unscarred palms into their shared vision, "an honest job, no torturing, no suffering. Coming home to Gwyn and soon holding my own children..." Azriel's lips curved into a soft, reverent smile. "Rhys, I AM HAPPY."

Their conversation came to a halt as his words sunk in.

Rhysand's gaze swept over him, taking in the sight of his wingless brother - the proud Illyrian warrior reduced to a mortal man. Azriel's hands, now smooth and unblemished. The shadows vanished. Instead, his face was etched with wrinkles that had not been there before, and grey streaks ran through his dark hair. It tore at Rhysand's heart. What struck him most, though, was the light in Azriel's eyes, which seemed to emanate from within. The darkness that had always so easily encircled his brother was now gone, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment.

A sound of bittersweet acceptance emerged from his lips as he reached out and clasped his shoulder in a firm grip. "I know," Rhys murmured, feeling tears prick his eyes. I can see it in every part of you."

A moment passed, and the weight of it all settled over them. Rhys's throat bobbed as he swallowed, his following words a hoarse whisper. "It will be hard, watching you age and eventually..." He couldn't bring himself to say it; the mere thought was like a dagger to his heart.

Azriel's hand came up to cover Rhys's, silently acknowledging the pain they both felt. "I know," he echoed softly, his eyes full of understanding. "But this is my choice, my chance to live a peaceful life. Just...come visit once in a while, okay?"

Rhys nodded, a single tear escaping to roll down his cheek. "Of course." He knew, deep in his soul, that Azriel deserved this happiness more than anyone. After a lifetime of suffering and sacrifice, his brother had found his heart's deepest desire.

How could Rhys begrudge him that?

"I'm proud of you," he said. "I'm so damn proud of the man you've become."

He pulled Azriel into a rough embrace, eyes burning.

Az held him just as tightly. "Thank you," he whispered, the words holding a wealth of meaning. "For everything."

———

Azriel's voice, rough yet soft as velvet, rose and fell in the darkness. An old lullaby his mother once sang to him drifted over Gwyn's swollen belly.

Her fingers combed through his hair, stroking and soothing as the twins kicked inside her. His head rested on her thigh, a warm and welcome weight.

Gwyn shifted uncomfortably on the bed, trying to find a position to soothe her throbbing back.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently.

"What's wrong?" Gwyn huffed. "I'm the size of a barn, and nothing fits me anymore. I feel gross and clumsy, and my back is killing me."

Azriel chuckled softly as he moved further up beside her on the bed.

"You're not gross; you're glowing. And you're carrying our children; that's a beautiful thing."

He began massaging her lower back, and she groaned in pained pleasure.

"I don't feel beautiful; I feel like a mess," she complained. "And you haven't touched me in weeks."

Azriel laughed louder now. "Am I not touching you right now?"

"Y-you know what I mean…" she stammered.

Azriel paused, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I wanted to give you space," he admitted. "I didn't want to bother you when you were already dealing with so much. But believe me, I still want you desperately."

Gwyn turned to Azriel and asked through watery eyes. "You still want me? Even like this?" She gestured helplessly at herself.

Azriel cupped her face in his hands. "I'll always want you. Especially like this."

He brought his lips to hers in a searing kiss that stole her breath.

"Every time I see you walk around, full with our children, it makes me so damn proud... and ... hard," he whispered between kisses, his voice deep and husky.

Gwyn melted into his touch, her earlier irritability vanishing.

Azriel's breath warmed the nape of Gwyn's neck as he continued to press tender kisses along her skin, his hands caressing her swollen belly. "You know," he murmured, "there's this instinct I've been fighting. I'm not sure if it's Illyrian, or maybe all creatures have it, but if I could have it my way, I wouldn't let you leave the bed." He paused, his lips brushing against her earlobe. "I would keep you pregnant forever if I could."

Gwyn shivered, "Don't you dare." But she couldn't deny the rush of wetness that pooled between her thighs at his words.

Azriel's hands roamed over her body, caressing every swollen curve. When his fingers brushed over her sensitive nipples, she gasped.

"Azriel..." she breathed. "I don't need space."

"What do you need then, Gwyn," he rasped.

"You. I need you."

And at her request, he tugged her closer, fitting her back against him, back to front.

"I'm here," he breathed against her skin. "I'm right here."

His hand drifted lower, skimming over the taut skin of her belly before slipping between her thighs. Gwyn's breath hitched as his fingers brushed against her center, finding her slick and wanting. "Azriel," she whimpered, her hips canting into his touch.

"I love you like this," he murmured, slowly circling her clit. "All needy and desperate for me." He dipped one long finger inside her, pumping lazily. "Never doubt how much I want you, Gwyn," he continued. "You are everything to me."

As he continued to tease and pleasure her, Gwyn felt herself growing desperate for the connection she knew they both craved.

"Please, Az," she moaned, her voice thick with need as she arched her back. "I need you inside me."

He groaned in response, pressing his arousal against her backside as if to assure her he was just as eager.

As if he could ever deny her.

He stopped stroking her, pulling away to remove his own clothes with swift, practiced movements.
Once he was bare, Azriel carefully lifted her nightgown over her head, taking care not to disturb the round swell of her belly.

"Come here," he beckoned, gently guiding her so she straddled him.

"Are you ready?" Azriel finally asked, watching her intently.

"Y-yes," Gwyn stammered as she slowly began to lower herself onto him, biting her lip as she felt his length pressing against her entrance.

A gasp escaped them both as she eased down onto him fully, and for the first time in weeks, Gwyn felt whole again.

Azriel's breathing grew heavy, each exhale shaking with the effort it took for him not to come right then and there. Had she always been this wet and warm?

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice low and strained. "You feel so incredible."

Her cheeks flushed at the praise while her own body hummed with the pleasure of being filled so entirely by Azriel's cock and their unborn children.

Gwyn's hips slowly began to move, initiating a sensual rhythm as she circled them before lifting them up and down.

She glanced down, catching sight of Azriel's strong hands cradling her swollen belly, his fingers splayed wide.

"Ah, Gwyn," he groaned, closing his eyes tightly as if to ward off the overpowering pleasure surging through him. His breath hitched with every movement of her body atop him.

"Are you alright, love?" Gwyn asked, concern lacing her voice as she noticed the strain on his face.

"Maybe a bit too alight," he replied in a husky whisper as he focused on holding back the tidal wave of pleasure that ran through him. "I'm super close."

"Then come," Gwyn urged. "Don't hold back."

Her hips rolled in another desperate motion, and a guttural moan escaped from deep within his chest.

His body trembled beneath her grasp as he held her firmly in place on top of him, releasing himself into her.

Gwyn felt each pulse of him, each spurt of his warm creamy cum.

"Sorry," Azriel panted, his golden-brown eyes filled with embarrassment as he gazed up at her.

"Shh," Gwyn murmured against his lips as she leaned down to kiss him, her heavy breasts brushing against his chest. "It's alright. I wanted you to let go."

As she began to ease off of him, Azriel's hands tightened on her hips, pulling her back down with surprising force.
Gwyn gasped at the sudden movement, her eyes widening as she felt his cock hardening inside her again.

"Again?" she breathed.

"I'm not done with you yet," he growled.

Azriel cupped Gwyn's face and kissed her deeply, his tongue teasing hers. His hands roamed down her body, caressing her full breasts and grasping her hips firmly as he began guiding her up and down his hard length.

He broke the kiss only to take one of her nipples into his mouth and suck hard, making Gwyn cry out. He lavished her breasts with attention, kneading them as he thrust up into her.

"Azriel," Gwyn gasped.

But he did not continue with this spoiling. Instead, he gently lifted Gwyn off of him; his cock was glistening with their combined juices.

He guided her to kneel on all fours on the bed beneath them, positioning a pillow under her swollen belly for support.

"Fuck," Azriel murmured as his hands caressed her ample backside. "I think this is the best sight of you. Pregnant and dripping with my cum..."

Gwyn wanted to laugh, but when she glanced over her shoulder, there was no mistaking the primal, honest desire etched across his face. It was a raw, unfiltered expression that she had never seen on Azriel before – one that made her heart swell and her core clench around the emptiness that begged to be filled.

She did not have to wait long, though. Azriel grabbed his cock and began stroking her lush folds with the tip of it.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmured, his voice gravelly with need. At her eager nod, he grasped her hips and slowly buried himself inside her once more.

Gwyn's loud moan echoed through the room as she pushed back against him eagerly.
Azriel groaned in response, his hands gripping her hips as he gave a few experimental thrusts before settling into a steady rhythm.

His movements were strong and controlled but also tender and considerate of her current state.

Gwyn grasped the sheets beneath her, moaning as Azriel gradually increased his pace. His powerful body flexed as he drove into her again and again. One hand caressed her lower back while the other teased her swollen breasts.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he rasped. "Taking all of me while our children grow inside you. What did I do to deserve you?"

"Azriel," she gasped, "I'm so close..."

Reaching around, he found the sensitive nub at the apex of her thighs, circling it with firm strokes of his fingers.

And soon enough, Gwyn was crying out loud, inner muscles clenching around him.

A few more thrusts and Azriel came again, spilling himself deep within her with a guttural groan.

They stayed joined like this for a while longer, panting and spent. Finally, Azriel withdrew slowly and gathered Gwyn in his arms. She nestled against his chest, his seed trickling down her thighs, their hearts full.

"Once the babies are here," Azriel whispered huskily against her ear, "I'm going to get you pregnant again and again and again."

Gwyn stilled in his arms, her eyes widening. She turned her head slightly to look at him, searching for any sign that he was joking. But the intensity in his gaze, the way his lips quirked into a small, wicked smile, told her he was anything but insincere.

"Surely you're not serious," she managed to say.

"Deadly serious," Azriel replied, laughing softly at her stunned expression.

Gwyn playfully raised her hand to slap him, but Azriel easily caught her wrist, grinning mischievously. "Still too slow," he teased.

A flush crept up Gwyn's neck, her heart racing at the thought of what he'd said.

"Would you really want that?" she asked hesitantly.

Azriel's gaze softened, and he brushed a stray strand of hair from her face before tenderly kissing her forehead. "Only if you want that too, Gwyn," he murmured sincerely.

She contemplated his offer of having more children with him, and a smile crept onto her face. The thought of having another person who would carry both their genes, who would be a part of them both, was simply wonderful. "Well, I don't know about 'again and again,' but...maybe one more wouldn't hurt," she teased, winking at him.

His golden eyes sparkled with happiness as he brushed his lips against hers. "One more? I'll take it."

Chapter Text

Azriel stood over the crib, his heart swelling with unimaginable love and awe as he gazed down at the two perfect bundles sleeping peacefully before him—his newborn twins, Ilir and Cathrin.

The morning light streamed through the window, bathing the nursery in a soft golden glow. It danced across their porcelain skin and downy hair—hers a rich chestnut, his inky black like Azriel's own. Their rosebud lips quivered slightly as they dreamed, and tiny hands curled into fists by their round cheeks.

Azriel's eyes traced every detail, committing each one to memory. The slope of a button nose, the gentle curve of a brow. He could see glimpses of himself and Gwyn reflected back in the twins - two halves made whole. His heart clenched almost painfully in his chest, overcome by the purity of this moment.

It stole his breath. Never had Azriel known such joy, such completeness. All the years of loneliness and sorrow fell away, eclipsed by the brilliant light of his children. His family.

Tears blurred his vision, but he blinked them back, unwilling to look away even for a second. Too scared they might vanish.

To think that he had helped create these perfect little beings, that he could be deserving of such overwhelming happiness...it didn't seem possible. And yet, here they were. Azriel released a shaky exhale, marveling at how his entire world had shifted on its axis, realigning to orbit around these two tiny wonders.

The scent of milk and lavender, powder, and new life permeated the air. It seeped into his lungs, into his very soul. He wanted to bottle it up and carry it with him always.

A tentative touch ghosted up his arm, the sensation as light as a whisper. Azriel didn't need to look to know it was Gwyn - he would recognize the brush of her fingers anywhere. That simple gesture conveyed comfort, understanding, and an unspoken promise of forever. She came to stand beside him, their shoulders brushing.

"I didn't know it was possible to feel so...full. Like my heart might burst from it all," he murmured.

He turned to face her then, his eyes roaming over her with reverence. Tracing the delicate lines of her face, the auburn waves tumbling over her shoulders.

Though she had just endured the monumental feat of childbirth, she held herself with a quiet strength and grace that stunned him.

She was absolutely breathtaking, both in appearance and in spirit.

He was in awe of her power, her endurance. To him Gwyn was a goddess in mortal flesh.

"Thank you," he breathed, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind her ear. "For them. For loving me. For...everything."

The words felt insufficient, too small to encompass the depths of his gratitude, but Azriel knew Gwyn would understand. She always did. Her hand came up to cover his where it rested against her cheek, and she leaned into the touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

"I was all worth it in the end." Gwyn's voice was a gentle caress, wrapping around him like a warm embrace. "To be here now."

He nodded slowly, his thumb tracing the delicate line of her jaw. "You saved me."

Gwyn smiled, pressing a hand to his heart. "We saved each other."

Azriel leaned down and kissed her tenderly, his lips moving softly against hers. Afterward, he tucked her head under his chin, holding her close as they both looked down at their sleeping children once more.

They stayed that way for several long moments, wrapped in each other's arms, their hearts full to bursting.

Finally, Gwyn tilted her head up, "Come, let's leave them to sleep. We should rest while we can."

Azriel chuckled, allowing himself to be led from the room.

Neither noticed the little dark tendrils emerging from the corners as the door closed behind them.

They drifted over the crib, swirling gently, protectively around the sleeping babes.

Little Ilir stirred, his face scrunching. A bold shadow swooped down, twisting playfully before him until he settled back into a deep slumber.

Though the children and their parents were mortal now, the Mother had not stopped watching. Quite the opposite, she would look after them forever, her blessings woven into their very souls. For they were her children too - the meeting of light and dark. And she had promised to guard in every life.