Heya, I will accept fic requests, but no promises that I will write them all. https://emilia3546.tumblr.com/post/633046501471436800/masterlist - Masterlist https://emilia3546.tumblr.com/ask - ask page
Nesta had never been this nervous for a first date, but Cassian, every part of him seemed right for her, right down to the filthy discussions they'd had to make sure they were a match.
If you’re still here, Anon, I finally got round to writing your request, hope you like it!! Xx
*****
She really shouldn't be this nervous. This was like starting on the fifth date, she already knew a lot about him, the weeks of messaging and calling each other to gauge compatibility had been necessary of course, but it did feel like they were much more committed than a first date ought to be. Nesta glanced once more in the mirror before grabbing her purse and keys, she hadn't overdone it, mostly thanks to the restaurant's dress code but that was a moot point. She'd opted for a crimson dress, short enough for a tease but not enough to upset the posh restaurant's management, a neckline that dipped down just enough to leave her ruby necklace space to shine. She'd paired the dress with a pair of jet-black heels, the heel itself shaped to form a thorny vine, cast in beautiful gold metal, the only flowers blooming where the metal met the black suede of the shoes. She'd pinned half of her hair back, the pins matching the flowers on her shoes, knowing damn well the attention to detail might have Cassian wanting to forget the 'no sex on the first date' rule they'd instated, she was going to enjoy watching him squirm tonight.
No sooner had she finished the thought that the doorbell rang. Nesta leaned against the doorframe as she opened it, smirking at the way Cassian's eyes ran down then back up her body before he too grinned,
"Should have known you'd find a way to stop my heart in seconds, Sweetheart," He teased as he offered her a hand to guide her down the steps, and if her gaze lingered on his fingers a heartbeat too long, she couldn't be blamed, every part of him was magnificent. Still, his easy manner and the familiarity of his voice couldn't banish the nervousness, or the rush of attraction she felt in the way he was automatically looking after her, from that hand down the steps, to opening the car door and again offering a hand out. She'd never been to this restaurant before, but Cassian, it seemed, had more than done his homework. He'd arranged for a quiet table tucked into a corner, close enough to enjoy the live music, but not too close that it was too loud. He pulled out her chair and she smiled, his easy manner putting her at ease. "You do drink wine, right?" Nesta blinked in surprise at the question, too busy staring at his hands as he flicked through the drinks menu to register the question for a second,
"Yeah, of course, but I'm really more a white wine person than red,"
"That'll work well then, so am I, any particular favorites?" Nesta hummed as she thought,
"Sancere," she admitted, "But I'm a little wary of the price tag, especially at places like this."
"Good taste," Cassian grinned as he spoke, "My brother owns this place, I get a serious wine discount, so don't worry about that."
"Your brother? I though you didn't have any?"
"Brother of sorts, he and I grew up together pretty much, whether we're related by blood or not stopped mattering a long time ago, Rhys' Mom had a habit of picking up strays, so instead of one son, she got three."
"That must have made her life so much easier," Nesta laughed,dreading the thought of one day having to look after one teenage boy, let alone three, "I couldn't do it."
"She was," he hesitated a moment, and Nesta instinctively reached out to grab his hand,
"You don't have to,"
"It's okay, she was the best Mom we could have asked for, even more so when she offered to officially adopt me when my foster parents couldn't cope any more. She gave me the first stable home I've ever had, any my brothers," his smile was not sad exactly, just filled with memories, all those emotions coming back to the surface. She hadn't expected him to open up like this, she'd known his biological Mom had died when he was small and his Dad was never around, but she didn't think she'd have been able to tell him so soon if their roles had been reversed. She squeezed his hand, not really knowing how to respond, she'd never been the best at emotions after all. "Speak of the devil," he muttered, "Hello Rhysie." Nesta stifled a laugh at the attempt to feign annoyance that broke into a grin within a few seconds,
"Cass," Cassian's brother's voice sounded like liquid night, smooth and refined, "Here to practically steal more of my wine?"
"Obviously," Cassian leaned back in his chair a little, "What was it you liked, Nesta?" Nesta raised an eyebrow and turned to face the man now stood by the table,
"I take you had the displeasure of growing up with this one? Rhys was it?" Rhys chuckled,
"You'll get along like a house on fire, he needs someone to knock him down a peg or two, I think you might be able to do it, Nesta." If only he knew what they'd really been discussing in the lead up to this date. Cassian shot her a covert wink from across the table, and Nesta cursed herself as she found her cheeks heating at the idea that he'd known the direction her thoughts had gone in.
"Oh the wine," she remembered, "I'm rather partial to a Sancere, and I'm informed that you're rather good to him as far as price tags go."
"Too good." Rhys muttered, then grinned, "It's good to see you, Cass, and nice to meet you, Nesta, I'll let them know about the wine," he shot Cassian a look Nesta couldn't decipher over his shoulder, but it had Cassian chuckling to himself, so she assumed it was good.
"Your brother, huh?"
"Cheeky bastard showing up when I'm on a date. Should've known and warned you."
"Warned me?"
"I'll just say it's a good job you're as snarky as he is, else he'd have left you far behind." Nesta snorted a laugh, then tried to cover it with a cough, failing miserably, her face heating with mortification. Ten minutes, that had to be a new shitty record for her. Cassian grinned, and then broke into a laugh of his own, "Don't pretend," he chuckled, "It's a cute laugh,"
"No, it's not," Nesta hissed, "Don't lie to me,"
"Maybe cute is the wrong word, but the sentiment stands," Nesta narrowed her eyes for a moment before deciding he was serious, and he wasn't just laughing at her lack of dignity. She was, however, grateful when Cassian breezed past it, moving on to ask her to him more about her dance studio. She found herself relaxing as she spoke, with each comment or question he added the tension lingering in her muscles eased, until the put-together front that she'd put up cracked, and she allowed Cassian a glance at the woman beneath it, a glimpse of the softer part of her heart, beneath the hard exterior.
She found herself grinning when he kissed her goodbye at her door, along with a promise to stop by the following evening for a less fancy date. She had this insistent desire to test his thoughts on her favorite movie, of course it had a sappy, romantic core, but there was more to it, it was a commentary on life really, well, what it could be at least. it was practically a Friday night tradition of hers by now to order a pizza and watch the movie. She grinned to herself at the thought of curling up against Cassian this week.
*****
The fucker showed up in grey sweatpants. Because of course he did, and, based on the smirk he flashed her as he sidled past to drop the pizza boxes on her kitchen counter, he fucking knew. 1-0. She'd have to even that score tonight. She followed him inside, and smacked his hand away from the pizza,
"Plate." Cassian rolled his eyes but did as he was told, at least he did after opening every other cabinet than the one with the plates. Nesta stifled a laugh as she got a bottle of coke out of the fridge. She knew how to have pizza properly even if her sisters were total heathens about the coke. Cassian it seemed, was not nearly as posh as last night had suggested, grinning as she placed the bottle down,
"Good girl. Proper pizza night." Thankfully he'd turned to load up two plates and missed the heat flooding her face at those words. It was fifty-fifty whether it was a deliberate choice, maybe not, given he'd not pushed it any more. She cursed internally and scooped up a plate, leaving Cassian to follow her to her living room where she'd got the movie set up, and if she swayed her hips a little, okay a lot, more than usual, it was hardly her fault. He'd started it.
At some point Cassian had slung an arm over the back of the couch, leaving Nesta the opportunity she'd been waiting for. She sighed and allowed herself to slowly slip sideways and she leaned back until the back of her head brushed against his arm. He stiffened almost imperceptibly, almost. 1-1. She smiled internally, but had to admit, it was far too easy to keep going and let her head fall onto his shoulder. Part of her was nervous about his reaction, but she hadn't needed to be, his hand dropped off the back of the couch to fall over her shoulder, tucking her closer into his side. They remained in comfortable silence, Cassian's fingers absentmindedly playing with Nesta's hair. It had been a long time since she'd been able to let her guard down with someone, and the feeling was intoxicating. She found herself pressing closer into him, searching for more contact. She sighed as the heroine of the movie finally took it upon herself to act, the kiss she shared with the hero, the emotion of the moment bringing her close to tears, as it did every time. She would find that, someday, she would find that trust, respect, adoration. She would find that pure, undiluted love.
Nesta didn't realize that Cassian was holding her tighter until the credits were rolling across the screen,
"Well?" She prompted,
"Not what I'd usually go for, but I might have to start." Nesta twisted to look up at him, his hand slipping to her waist as she did so. She narrowed her eyes, trying to determine the truth in that statement or if he was just being nice. The was no equivocation in those gorgeous hazel eyes though, none at all. There was, however, a moment of hesitation before he reached up with his other hand to run a thumb across her cheek. She leaned into the touch, both hands coming up to rest on his chest as he cupped her cheek. Her breathing had sped up just a little at the way he'd gently tugged on her waist, an invitation, nothing more, but one she was only too glad to accept. She moved with him, not quite knowing exactly what she was doing, but somehow she ended up in his lap. No, not in his lap, straddling his lap. Cassian slipped his hand away from her waist, only to wrap a whole arm around her, the touch grounding in the face of the intimacy. She hadn't decided what she was supposed to do when Cassian brushed his thumb across her cheek again, "Can I kiss you?" He breathed, his face and hers so close that they were practically sharing breath already. Nesta nodded, but that wasn't enough, "Use your words, sweetheart,"
"Yes please," she managed, her eyes automatically closing as Cassian lifted his head to meet her lips with his own. He pulled away after a moment and Nesta found herself chasing his movement, her body melting into him.
"Tell me what you want."
"Kiss me again. Properly," it was supposed to be a demand, but came out sounding more like a plea. Gods, but did he. Nesta opened at the first brush of his tongue against her lips, her sigh muffled as he slid a hand into her hair, his arm around her waist tugging her into him so that not an inch of space was left between them. He guided her head to the side with a gentle tug that she was all too willing to obey, the kiss deepening. Nesta moaned softly into his mouth when his grip on her hair tightened just enough to test the waters. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tight as kissed her like it was his last night on Earth. When he pulled back the second time, she leaned forward to snuggle into his chest, sighing in contentment at the way his arms came around her, one holding her close, the other gently stroking her hair.
"Good girl," he breathed, his breathing slowly matching hers as they both caught their breath. He was good pillow, but the fire he'd ignited in her blood was not going to die down on its own.
"Bedroom," she demanded, climbing off him to lead him up her staircase, somehow managing not to fall despite walking backwards the whole way to avoid having to take her eyes off him.
He was on her the moment the door clicked closed behind them, both hands on her waist, pressing her into the door as he kissed along her jaw, paying particular attention to the spot below her ear that made her gasp and grip his shoulders tighter. She tried to push herself to her feet, to shove him back towards the bed, but his hold on her waist was stronger than she'd realized,
"Don't rush me," he nipped at the skin of her neck, catching her head as it dropped backwards, so that she wouldn't hit it on the hard wood of the door. "God, you're so beautiful, sweetheart, so perfect for me." Nesta keened at the praise, this was something she'd suspected, but no one had ever managed to make her feel that way with just their voice and words, she bit down on her lower lip to hold in a moan. Cassian grinned against her skin, noting the reaction, and his next words were almost enough to have her coming untouched, his voice having dropped to a lower pitch, "Let me hear you, I want to hear every noise you make, I want you to let me know exactly how I'm making you feel,"
"Please," she panted, tugging at his t-shirt to pull it over his head. He chuckled as he obliged, pressing a kiss to that spot below her ear again as he whispered,
"Jump." She did so, wrapping her legs around his waist as he held her tight against him, turning them round so he could set her down gently on the bed. Her legs fell apart instinctively, and Cassian took the opportunity to slip between them, kneeling on the floor at the foot of her bed, "Tell me you want this."
"I want this. I want you. Please, I need you."
"Oh, good girl, you beg so prettily." Nesta made to reach for him, but Cassian beat her to it, pulling her grey sweater over her head, and raised an eyebrow at the lack of a shirt underneath it, "Oh, someone's a bit dirtier than she let on, I like it," he fucking winked as she struggled for words, the need disappearing at the first brush of his lips across her collarbone, then lower and lower, slowly working his way down, "I think this," he said, running a finger along the band of her bra, "Needs to come off, lovely as it is." And it was, nothing fancy, but with a zip at the front for easier removal, and red really was her color. She nodded breathlessly, but Cassian did not move,
"Yes," she panted, "Take it off, please." She lifted her hands out of the straps when Cassian slid them down her arms, her arousal surging to new heights when he shot her a burning look and dropped his head to unzip it, both of his hands still holding her waist as the garment fell away in moments, his tongue brushing against the newly revealed skin immediately.
"Lie back, sweetheart," Cassian kissed his way down her stomach, before hooking his thumbs into the waist band of her leggings, and panties together. She breathed another permission and he slid them off, guiding her to lift her hips when needed, leaving her totally bare before him.
When Nesta looked down to find where he'd gone, she found him still between her spread legs, eyes dark with lust as he rubbed her hips gently. She hadn't realized that she'd been trembling until he offered that small comfort,
"Okay?"
"Yes. Just a little, um,"
"Nervous?" She nodded, "You have no need to be nervous, not with all the ways I plan to worship you tonight, sweetheart." Nesta opened her mouth to respond, but only managed a long moan as Cassian licked a stripe up her center, gazing up at her with a shit-eating grin on his face. "Not sure I'll ever get enough of that taste," he murmured. Nesta silently reached a hand towards him, her eyes flickering shut when he laced his fingers through hers as he nipped at the inside of her thigh.
"Cass," she moaned, "Please," she broke off with a gasp when he sucked her clit into his mouth, the sensation spiraling up into her belly and making her see stars. Cassian held her hand the whole time, still rubbing her hip as he worked her closer and closer to the edge of pleasure, every swipe of his tongue, every brush of his breath against her breaking down wall after wall, she wanted to be his, wanted to let him help her let go of the control she clung to in her daily life. God, she wanted to be his.
She hadn't realized that she'd been squirming underneath him until he lifted his head, chuckling softly,
"Feeling needy, sweetheart?"
"I- uh," Cassian grinned at her attempt at words,
"Try and stay still for me, or I might have to help you," help her? Oh. The two sides of her immediately started warring for control, the urge to be good for him fighting against the urge to push him to take that control, to pin her down as he made her feel good. Naturally, the latter won, but she waited until he gently eased one finger inside her to shit her hips, getting him to brush against a spot inside her that had her blood boiling with the heat coursing through her, "Nesta," Cassian warned, but she pretended to be lost in him, moaning as she squirmed. "Don't play dumb, sweetheart," she had her eyes squeezed shut, but she could hear the smile in his voice, oh yes, he was enjoying this game. "Alright, you need me to help you then, is that it?" Nesta hummed a noncommittal response. Still, she whined when he folded a forearm across her hips , pinning her completely motionless from the waist down. She tried to shift her hips again, to find that feeling from a moment ago, but no luck. "You take what I give you, sweetheart, and if you're good I might just give you what you want, alright?" Nesta allowed herself to fall still, but nothing came, she whined in frustration before realizing that he was waiting for an answer,
"Yes," she breathed, "Alright,"
"Yes what?" She had options here, and a split-second decision had her going all-in.
"Yes, Sir," Cassian grinned at her, reaching up to brush a thumb across her cheek,
"That's my good girl," she keened at the praise again, gripping the bedsheets hard as Cassian slipped a finger back into her, then another. She kept repeating his name along with various pleas for more as he slowly pumped his fingers in and out of her, she knew she was trembling again, but for a wholly different reason this time. She cried out, almost sobbing when he withdrew his fingers,
"Cass, please, please, Sir, I need,"
"I know, Sweetheart, I know, I've got you, you're safe here with me." Nesta locked eyes with him as he stood to kick off those damned sweatpants. She reached for him as he climbed back onto the bed with her, wrapping her arms around his neck as he leaned down over her, one hand tangling in the loose curls at the base of his skull, she tugged, hard. Cassian let out a sound that must have been half-growl, half-moan, he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his body pressing down into hers. Nesta tucked her face into his shoulder, holding him against her, savoring the feel of every inch of skin touching hers. When Cassian lifted his head to crush his lips against hers, she broke. She broke in the best way, in a way she never had before, she had never felt this safe with someone, let alone during a scene, but lying here, in his arms, his lips on hers, she'd died and gone to heaven. She tugged his head back, panting for breath, the look in his eyes almost breaking her heart as she pressed her forehead against his, the desire, sure, but more than that, he'd laid his heart out before her with that look, the silent admission that this could be it for them, that he'd be here by her side, ready to watch her conquer the world, but to shield her form it when she needed it. She'd deny the look in the morning for sure, but in the moment, her cracked, still-healing heart opened for him, and she silently admitted to herself that maybe, just maybe, he would be it for her.
"Cass," she breathed,
"Hi, Nes," she let out a huff of laughter at his grin,
"More," she demanded, "Want you,"
"You want me how? Words, remember?"
"In me, please, fuck me,"
"Why didn't you say so? All you had to do was ask," Cassian cupped her face with one hand, bracing on his other forearm beside her head as he shifted his hips back, brushing against her. She clung to his shoulders as he slowly, too slowly, eased into her. "Fuck. Nesta,"
"Cassian," she repeated his name again until he looked up at her, and threaded her hands through his hair, she brushed her hands across his face, and nodded, she was ready for him. He drew out and pushed back in, gently, taking his sweet, sweet time with her. She moaned his name when he canted his hips to ensure his pelvis brushed against her clit with each thrust. She was drowning in him, in his eyes, his breath, his fingers carefully brushing the hair out of her face, his cock, drawing delightful pleasure from her. She held on to him, the feel of him grounding her as the tension coiling tight again built and built, "Cass," she panted,
"Go ahead, I'm right behind you," she needed no more encouragement, and squealed his name as her muscles spasmed, her body going limp in his arms as he followed her with a low moan of her name. He collapsed onto his forearms above her, forehead pressed against her own, their breath mingling as they both spooled themselves back together.
Nesta's head was still spinning when Cassian rolled off her, disappearing into the bathroom for a few moments before reappearing with a glass of water and a cloth, the sound of running water revealing that he'd got a bath running.
"Do you want one of those bath bombs I saw on the side?" He murmured as he ran the cloth over her, she blinked, the question not quite registering at first. He waited for her to process, her hand resting in his as he swept his thumb up and down the back of her hand.
"Yes please," she squeezed his hand when her head cleared enough for her to properly process the world around her again,
"You gotta preference for which?"
"You pick one." She sighed contentedly as he lifted her bridal-style into his arms, curling into his chest. She mumbled a complaint as he moved her away, only to sigh again as he lowered her into the warm water, a lavender scent reaching her as he opened a bath bomb, coincidentally one of her favorites.
She sighed yet again when he poured water over her hair,
"Can I, um," she glanced up at the hesitation, reaching up to cup his cheek,
"Cass, tell me, what do you need?"
"Can I wash your hair?"
"If you let me wash yours," she raised an eyebrow and grinned at him. He let out a huff, and grinned back, reaching for the shampoo bottle behind her. God, she might just be falling for him.
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*
First, an apology. I have been all over the place since before the last chapter was published, and haven't had any time to write. So, thank you all for waiting, and enjoy the last chapter. Here's to the first day off in two months!
*****
She'd kissed him a hundred times before, but nothing could compare to this. The moment he'd pulled the last hairpin out and her hair had tumbled down her back had been the last moment of silence, stillness. One heartbeat to stare at each other, to take in the reality, married, they were married now. Gwyn reached up to run her fingers across Azriel's jaw, and the touch snapped some tether on both of them. They'd moved at the same time, lips colliding as they tumbled onto the bed. It was an explosion of every emotion she felt around him, erupting in one blissful moment. She chuckled at the sight that met her as she broke the kiss, she'd ended up on top of Azriel, his wings flared beneath him to cushion the impact, hair falling across his eyes, a rare, beautiful grin on his face. She slid a hand into his hair, longer than usual, the demands of the Court following the war giving him no chance to bother with trivial things like haircuts, but Gwyn liked it, not too long, just a little more unruly now, and all the better for tugging on. Azriel groaned as she did just that, his hands coming up to grip her hips as she traced the lines of his jaw, his neck, his chest with her mouth.
"Gwyn," he breathed, her name a prayer on his lips as he chanted her name over and over. She rose for a moment to meet his gaze as she lifted her hips and breathed his name. Still, he held her hips, forcing her to remain motionless above him,
"Azzy," she panted, "Please,"
"Please what, love?"
"I - I want you,"
"How do you want me, wife?" Cauldron, his voice, the sultry tones he found with her and only with her, like this, it sent fire raging through her blood, but his words, she loved him, loved doing all manner of unspeakable things with him, but saying the words was still new. New and exciting.
"I," she faltered as he lifted his hips just enough to rub against her, and all words disappeared from her mind, "I want you inside me," she gasped once he again fell still. Azriel grinned at the words,
"We are getting bolder," he chuckled, "Well done, love," Gwyn practically keened at the praise, especially coming from Azriel, someone who knew exactly what it meant that she could now say things like that. She kept her gaze fixed on his as he loosened his grip on her hips, allowing her to guide herself down onto him. Her breath caught as Azriel shifted his hips, pleasure scorching through her veins at the sensation of him moving inside her. Azriel. Her Azriel. She grinned and rolled her hips, slowly, and laughed to herself at Azriel's groan of pleasure and frustration at the slow speed of her movements. "Gwyn," he panted, hands still resting on her hips, resting but not holding, still leaving her to control the pace for this moment, "Gwyn." There had never been a more beautiful sound than her name on his lips, and Gwyn responded with a cry of her own, a soft moan of Azriel's name that had his control fraying as a sense of desire flooded down that barely-there mating bond. Oh she wanted it, wanted it so badly. She could barely imagine what an active bond between them would feel like, being surrounded by magic all her life had not prepared her for the faint feelings she was getting from him, and she could never be truly ready, but she wanted it, she knew that much. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.
Gwyn must have said the last thought out loud, because Azriel slid a hand up her side to cup the back of her head and pulled her down for a kiss, their breath mingling together when they broke for air. Gwyn lost all sense of control at the feeling of him inside her, his breath in her lungs, his skin against hers. She collapsed onto his chest, murmuring a quick 'yes' at his moment of hesitation. The moment the word passed her lips, Azriel wasted no time in rolling her onto her back, his lips trailing along her jaw, her neck, her collarbone, her breasts, all while his hips kept moving against hers. She gripped his hair tightly, tugging on it when he struck the spot inside her that made pleasure spark anew again and again. Azriel groaned each time, his kisses returning with renewed vigor to make Gwyn squeal his name over and over and over again.
At this rate, she'd have no voice left, but she couldn't bring herself to care, not when she had her Azriel, not when he was making her feel incredible in the one way she had never expected to, not when he was here. The tension that had been building in her belly coiled tighter with each kiss, each thrust, each muttered word from him. Azriel lifted his head to meet Gwyn's gaze again and she shattered harder than ever before. She dimly recognized Azriel's moan as he followed her into the bliss of release. His weight atop her was the prefect shield from the rest of the world as his light touch, caressing her skin, his light kisses across her face pulled her back, he kept her safe as she pulled herself back together. She grinned lazily up at him once she'd managed to regain control of her body,
"Do that again." She demanded, the breathiness to her voice making Azriel chuckle deeply before he said,
"How would you have me, love?"
She had him atop her again once, then rolled onto her stomach, her moans muffled by the pillow in front of her as Azriel drew another orgasm from her with his fingers and tongue and then his cock, all from behind, the different angle finding new waves of pleasure that she hadn't felt before. When he sat on the edge of the bed, all but worn out, she'd climbed into his lap, and they'd both groaned as she sank down onto his cock. He'd shouted her name louder than ever before when she touched his wings, and louder again when she leaned over his shoulder to kiss one, then swept her tongue along the ridge, towards what she'd discovered to be the most sensitive spot. He'd flipped them over and returned the favor, kissing his way across her body's most sensitive spots, clearly enjoying her cries of ecstasy at his every touch.
Bathing should have been a calm affair, but Gwyn had lost all sense of decorum, and had found her pleasure once more in Azriel's arms amid the many-scented soaps and bath salts. She'd drifted off to sleep before making it out of the bath, and hadn't woken until the next morning.
When she finally did wake, it was to the sensation of Azriel tying tiny braids into her hair, only to undo them and start again. She twisted to kiss him sleepily, and even that slight movement betrayed the wonderful soreness throughout her body.
"I want to cook breakfast," she mumbled,
"You can cook your own breakfast, love, but I think you're forgetting something,"
"The bond? I'm not forgetting anything."
"Oh?" Cauldron, the low, husky tones of his voice in the morning were enough to make Gwyn almost forget what she was saying in favor of more scandalous fun. Still, she forced herself to speak,
"I want it. To accept it. Now. Or, maybe when we get to," she paused, "Where are we going on Honeymoon?"
"There's a lovely place in the Summer Court that Tarquin's given us as a wedding present, a beautiful little beach house, private beach, but not too far from Adriata. The waters there are supposed to be the clearest in Prythian." Gwyn made no effort to halt the grin that was spreading across her face with each moment,
"Breakfast there then,"
"Breakfast there." Azriel agreed, and kissed her soundly, packing becoming delayed by another hour as he explored her body all over again until she was trembling in his arms.
By the time they made it to Summer it was almost midday, but Gwyn found all she needed for a quick brunch already in the beach house. Azriel didn't take his eyes off her the whole time they were eating, and when he took her hand, swiping a thumb over the back of it, she felt it. A tug towards him, the love and joy that almost overwhelmed her wasn't just her own, not any more. It was song, it was light, it was shadow, it was everything they were, and it was theirs, and theirs alone. The feeling only intensified as Azriel kissed her deeply and carried her into the house. It was a feeling that would never be broken. The mating bond.
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*****
Gwyn lost track of their friends and family, forgot that anyone except Azriel had ever existed as he broke the kiss and cupped her face in both his hands, tears glimmering in his eyes. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his, they'd always been beautiful, but there was something about the shine from the tears, the sheer elation written across all of his face and crystal-clear in those eyes. It was, it was captivating, and Gwyn kissed him again as he swept her up into his arms, she kissed Azriel, her love, her life, her damn husband. She let out a nervous giggle as she tucked her head into his shoulder against the brightness of the starlights filling the garden outside the temple. Spelled to capture the light of the stars themselves, there was an ethereal sort of beauty in them as Gwyn looked around the space, it was perfect. There was no other word, perfect, that was what it was.
Slowly, their guests filed out of the doors behind them, but still Azriel refused to put her down, waiting until everyone had joined them gently placing her down, but kept holding her hands, lifting her left to his mouth, even as the ribbon bound her right to his left.
"Would you do me the honor, wife?" Gwyn smiled broadly at his bow, and dipped her head in response,
"I would be delighted, husband."
Azriel didn't stop smiling the whole of the dance, his gaze on Gwyn's the whole time, her heart pounding at the intensity and adoration practically radiating off him. There were many, many things she wanted, no, needed to do, but first, it was time to celebrate.
The first dance ended, and Azriel immediately swept her into another, other couples starting to join them one after another, Feyre and Rhysand, then Nesta and Cassian, looking rather like he was merely trying to keep up with her, her grace more than making up for his lack of it. Gwyn snorted a laugh at the sight of them, and Azriel's arm around her waist tightened,
"That must be the most beautiful sound in this world,"
"I thought that was my singing?" She teased,
"It's any sound you make, although," he added, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, "I'm sure I could pick a few favorites if pressed," Gwyn's eyes widened at the drop in his voice, the sultry tone,
"Azzy!" She scolded, attempting to avoid falling for it, but laughed again when he winked and grinned at her, the portrait of relaxation, of joy. He hadn't had nearly enough chance to be like this, and Gwyn would never tire of it, not in five thousand years, she would wake each day and thank the Cauldron for that grin, that laugh.
The first drink together as a married couple was something special, even more so when Cassian leaned across the table, and fixed Azriel with a look.
"Okay, Mr-married-male, I want no funny business from you tonight, chaperone,"
"As I recall you needed it,"
"As I recall, you did a lousy job," Gwyn snorted at that,
"The dining room would certainly agree," Nesta squawked in outrage from behind her,
"I don't discuss your bedroom habits, Gwyn,"
"That's because they're bedroom habits,"
"Mostly," Azriel teased, and Gwyn smacked his arm,
"I think we need another dance," she announced, earning a cackle of laughter from Nesta,
"Bad way to start a marriage, Az," Cassian called,"You can't piss off your wife immediately,"
"I'll make it up tonight," he chuckled as Gwyn dragged him away, glaring for half a second before lapsing into giggles,
"You most certainly will."
The music changed from a waltz to a looser, less rigid dance, one for which there were no set rules, and Azriel immediately took the opportunity to spin her around him, catching her with a chuckle when she missed his hand. Others around them were giggling, and talking, and Gwyn caught sight of a familiar flash of red streaked hair. Maddy was resplendent in her gown, and the female clutching her arm grinned as she caught Gwyn's eye. Gods, gold was absolutely Josie's color, the shine making her deep brown skin practically glow as she moved, delicate pointed ears just visible through her gorgeous, tight curls, the flecks of gold dust throughout finishing the look.
"I wanna meet Josie," Gwyn tugged on Azriel's arm, and he let her pull him through the crowd to practically ambush Maddy, who squealed at the sight of her,
"You look so beautiful!" She announced, and then seemed to realize they hadn't met, and introduced Josie, who grinned,
"I've heard an awful lot of stories about you, Gwyn, you'll have to come by for tea some time, tell me what is true and what's a Maddy-story," Gwyn chuckled,
"A Maddy-story?"
"You know, something exaggerated, or just not quite true, a Maddy-story,"
"I'm insulted," Maddy complained, turning a baleful look to Azriel,
"I'm not helping you," he insisted, "Josie's right,"
"She is not!" Gwyn snorted at Maddy's complaints, the female complaining too much for her professed innocence to really be true, and patted Maddy's elbow,
"I'd be delighted to come for tea, Maddy-stories or no."
The time flew past, Gwyn spending most of the time in Azriel's arms on the dance floor, and the rest of it surrounded by her friends. She'd cheered the loudest when a dance had finished and instead of slipping away like normal, Mor had cupped Emerie's face and kissed her soundly, much to everyone's delight. Cassian owed her a new dagger. She'd still been grinning when Elain had proposed a toast 'to new beginnings,' but she'd almost spat out the mouthful of champagne when Nesta added 'and to amazing sex!' Gwyn's face flamed, but she did indeed drink, earning a howl of laughter from Emerie, and a knowing smirk from Nesta.
"Remind me to knock Nesta on her ass when we get back," Azriel chuckled, and asked innocently,
"Back from where?"
"From wherever you've been honeymoon plotting for the past month," she laughed, "You're not subtle, Azzy,"
"Spymaster indeed, perhaps I ought to replace you," Rhysand teased before being dragged back towards the dance floor by Feyre.
Gwyn leaned into Azriel's side as they observed the party, their dancing friends, a far sight from the worry that had continued until the last of the rebels had been hunted down. She melted into him when he tipped her chin up to kiss her again, swaying slightly to the music.
She was just about ready to call everyone together to bid them goodbye before they left for the new house, their new home, when Elain had appeared out of nowhere and kissed her cheek,
"Your vows were beautiful," she squeezed Gwyn's hand, "Both of you." She glanced back to at the party, starting to die down a little, "I won't keep you," she winked and waggled her eyebrows at Gwyn, "Have fun tonight." One last glance at the last few dancing couples revealed Elain smiling in a red-haired male's arms, looking like they knew each other's next move before it had happened.
Gwyn insisted that they wait for the song to finish before the speeches. Perhaps 'speeches' was a generous term, for Azriel had barely started, had made the mistake of stating that 'My wife and I are delighted to see you all this evening' before cheers sounded, with several of their guests finishing their glasses, Cassian predictably being the first. Nesta and Emerie had thankfully refrained from embarrassing Gwyn too much, although the same could not be said for Rhysand and Cassian, both of whom earned a promise of an ass-kicking soon.
*****
Gwyn was still smiling when Azriel landed outside the house and opened the door to their new home, a wedding present from Rhysand and Feyre. He didn't set her down until they had crossed the threshold, claiming some tale of bad luck if she tripped. The ribbon around their hands melted into nothingness the moment her feet hit the ground, signalling the beginning of their union.
Gwyn pivoted to face Azriel as he silently closed the door, reaching out to run her fingers across his cheek, along his jaw, tugging on the curl by his ear, the one that he'd never been able to tame. She been itching to touch him since first laying eyes on him in that temple, had hated anyone else's attention on him all evening. But now, now she had him all to herself, and she wasn't going to waste a second. She ran her hands across his shoulders, tugging his jacket off, leaving only his dress shirt,
"You should wear a suit more often," she breathed for the second time, "It's taken all my self-control not to drag you into a dark corner all night." Azriel's breath caught at the admission, and she moved on to unbutton his shirt, arching into him as his hands came to rest on her hips, and swept up her sides, loosening the ties at the back of her gown. A dark gleam was now shining in his eyes, as he caught her hands, stepping away and leading her towards the stairs, and into the master bedroom.
"Turn around," he breathed, his breath hot on her neck as she did so, tipping her head sideways as he pressed a kiss to her skin.
"Az," she murmured,
"Hmmmm?"
"I love you,"
"I love you, Gwyn. My beautiful wife," her punctuated each word with kisses trailing down her neck until her reached the back of the corset. She glanced back when he stopped, his hands still on her waist, only to find him on his knees behind her, the corset loosening with each tug on the ties. Not his hands, no, those were still holding her, Azriel was untying her corset with his mouth, and he winked up at her upon noticing her attention. He grinned triumphantly when the gown slipped down and she stepped out of it, carefully laying it over a chair before turning back to her husband, now completely, gloriously naked. He stepped towards her, and Gwyn dodged to the side, forcing him to follow her until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Azriel was there the next second, an arm around her waist, the other skating up her shoulder to where her hair was still twisted up atop her head, "May I?" He breathed, and tears pricked her eyes at the question, he damned-well knew the answer, but to ask, even now, Gwyn couldn't stop herself from kissing him again before meeting his eyes again,
I LOVED the bridge kingdom, but I was kind of unsatisfied with the ending. Like I wanted more of a discussion/resolution between Lara and Aren if that makes sense. If you wanted to write a lil fix it 👀
Okay, I was planning to write this after reading Inadequate Heir, but the preorder incentive The Calm Before the Storm is literally this, I might see if I can come up with a follow-up to that, maybe return to Midwatch, or more distant future post-war. Watch this space!
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*****
Gwyn almost didn't recognize the female staring back at her from the mirror as Nesta did up the clasps on the back of her dress, no, not just a dress, her damned wedding gown. It had been three months since the battle, three months to rebuild and reform Illyria, but it still seemed like only yesterday she had accepted Nesta's offer of training and truly met the male who had taught her not only to fight, but to trust, and to love again.
"Deep breath." Nesta ordered, and Gwyn chuckled as she realized her breathing had gotten irregular, "You're allowed to be nervous, I was, a bit," Gwyn snorted again at the half-admission,
"It's not that," she said as Emerie forced her to sit and started brushing out her hair while Nesta brushed off her shoes, "It just feels surreal, like, I don't know, like maybe it's a dream, all of it, and I'll wake up in the library in the morning, still scared to go outside." Emerie pinched her shoulder,
"Does that feel like a dream?" Gwyn huffed in outrage, and yelped when Emerie prodded her side, "What about that?"
"No! Okay, okay, sto-op it," she swatted Emerie's hand away, it did feel like a dream, but a very real one. She prodded Emerie in the ribs, who froze at the slight cough from the doorway. They both looked over to where Elain stood, eyes narrowed, one hand on a hip, the other holding a covered bundle,
"And here I was thinking you lot might leave the violence out of it for a day, besides, shouldn't you let the bride win?" She teased, and Gwyn grinned triumphantly at Emerie,
"Keep that up and I won't do your hair for the theater next week, Elain," Emerie threatened, but Elain laughed,
"Do that, and I'll arrange for you to be seated away from Mor," Emerie gasped,
"You wouldn't!" Elain raised an eyebrow as if to say, don't test me, and Emerie retreated, tossing her hands up,
"Fine, fine," before tossing a glare at Nesta, "You Archeron females are brutal,"
"How do you think we survived this long?" Nesta laughed, "Not by giving in to threats from you, Em," Elain cleared her throat,
"Delightful as watching you two spar when Emerie is supposed to be doing your hair, Gwyn, I do need to make sure the temple is all set up, Mother forbid I leave Feyre and the boys to oversee it. But I have your bouquet," she pulled the cover off the bundle she'd been carrying, and Gwyn's eyes widened at the sight of it. It was beautiful, a core of black lilies surrounded by tiny flowers of white and blue and teal, with a ring of onyx roses at the edge, shadows and light playing off the different colors.
"Thank you," she breathed, and reached out to squeeze Elain's hand, "It's perfect," and it was, the shadows, the light, twining together into a splash of color, his color, and hers. "You sure you only got the seeing from the Cauldron?"
"Positive," Elain chuckled, "And I couldn't very well do a sub-par bouquet for my friend's wedding now, could I?" Gwyn grinned again, and snorted when Emerie hissed at her to sit still or she'd mess up the braids.
Almost an hour later, Gwyn was stood back in front of the mirror, again struggling to believe the stunning female gazing back was really her. Her hair was flawless, a hundred tiny braids twisted back from her face and up behind her head into a bun, the rest flowing down her back. Every braid was placed carefully, framing her face, and the tiny emeralds and diamonds that Emerie had woven into each strand seemed to catch the light, giving her the sense that her hair itself was shining with their light. Mor had been in earlier to help with her cosmetics, but she'd kept it fairly natural, not wanting to wash Gwyn out by over-doing it. A touch of rouge along her cheekbones, her eyes lined with black, but she'd brushed green matching the emeralds in Gwyn's hair over her eyelids. Her lips were painted a soft rosy color, not quite pink, but not quite red either.
Gwyn brushed her hands down the skirts of her gown, a girlish squeal almost making its way out of her, again. She'd never worn anything so beautiful, had never dreamed that she'd ever be able to afford it, but Nesta and Emerie had taken her shopping, and had suggested she try on the dress. It was way too expensive, but Nesta had snorted, and had the cost charged to Rhys and Feyre, who had taken one look at the dress and exclaimed that they'd gotten a bargain. She'd looked it over with her artist's eye, and helped Gwyn to choose the adornments and adjustments she wanted, which she again paid for, insisting that Gwyn owed her nothing for the kindness.
After weeks of adjustments and changes, they had settled on the gown Gwyn currently wore, the bodice fitted, with a corset for support, accented with silver thread. It was perhaps more conservative than the current fashion for low-cut necklines, but Gwyn had found her comfort in the lace sewn to form the straps, cutting just below her collarbones. She liked the way the lace was slightly see-through, that it didn't cover her completely, but was just a bit of a shield against her worries. There were no sleeves, save for the silver chains attached to the straps, falling over her shoulder in several loops to mimic sleeves. But the skirts, the skirts made the gown. Perhaps skirts was the wrong word, without the layers upon layers of skirts that might have been expected with the gown. One underskirt, more to protect her from the wind than anything, and one overskirt. It fell all the way to the floor, but there were slits up both sides of the skirts, giving her freedom of movement, that particular feature was due to Gwyn's insistence that she be able to fight in whatever she was wearing, wedding gown or not. But the slits allowed for the beautiful shoes that Emerie had found to be showed off, the skirts whispering around her as she walked. Unorthodox, in more ways that one, but Gwyn would not have had it any other way. She spun once in the mirror, and grinned, before accepting Feyre's hand to winnow to the temple.
Only Nesta and Emerie remained with her, waiting just outside the door. She had no father to walk her down the aisle, and no-one she trusted more than the two females she'd adopted as sisters. She nodded, and the doors swung open, revealing a small group of their friends, including some guests from other courts, but Gwyn's gaze skipped over all of them, landing instead on her intended husband, her mate.
Azriel's gaze locked with hers, and the lingering nerves faded with each breath, with that smile, the way his eyes had lit up upon seeing her. With Nesta and Emerie flanking her as she walked, Gwyn took the opportunity to take him in. It must have been the first time she'd seen him like this, Mother above, Azzy was wearing a suit. He'd combed his hair, but Gwyn still had to stifle a giggle at the sight of the stubborn curl at his left temple that never seemed to behave, no matter how hard she'd tried, so Azriel had no hope on his own. She squeezed her bouquet tighter as they drew nearer to the dais, each step one step closer to taking his hand, to passing through that doorway to the future she'd envisioned with him. She left the war, her fear and grief behind her, it would always be a part of her, but no longer would she be ruled by it.
Just before she took the final step, Nesta whispered,
"Do everything I would do," and raised an eyebrow conspiratorially, earning a grin from Emerie, who winked at Gwyn before staking the bouquet and leaving Gwyn to take one final step before Azriel was gripping her hands, and grinning at her.
"You look exquisite, love," he whispered, and the world faded. There was nothing but him, and her,
"You should wear suits more often," she teased by way of greeting, and Azriel's grin widened as he laughed before turning to where Rhys and a priestess stood, both smiling. Still gripping Azriel's left hand with her right, Gwyn could hardly believe she'd made it this far as Rhys spoke,
"Gwyneth, do you come to this place of your own free will, with love in your heart, to wed this male?"
"Yes," she glanced sideways to where Azriel was watching her, "I do." She hardly noticed Rhys repeating the question to Azriel until he echoed her words. He was still staring at her as he again began to speak,
"I, Azriel, swear to love, to cherish, and to protect you. I swear to love you through the best and worst the world can throw at us." Official Illyrian words, but Azriel had not balked at the idea of saying them, and he did not hesitate now to add his own vows and feeling to them. "I have never met a female who mirrored my own heart so perfectly. The moment I saw you with Nesta and Emerie, ready to train, to fight for your future, I should have known then that I was done for. It took me too long to acknowledge how I felt for you, and longer to realize that you felt the same, but every moment I have spent in your time, as a friend or partner has been a moment that I wished never to end. I pray that we will have many more as husband and wife, and as mates. So, Gwyneth Berdara, I swear to you that I will love you not just through this world, but through every world, beyond my last breath, until my soul itself fades. I swear to fight by your side, to defend you when you need, and to rival Cassian for being disgustingly in love." Gwyn snorted at that, but didn't interrupt, "I swear to always be there to hold you hand, and to find our way to light and life together." Gwyn's eyes pricked with tears, and Azriel whispered that he loved her. She took a steadying breath so that she could speak her own vows.
"I Gwyneth Berdara, swear to love and cherish you, and to always fight beside you." Like Nesta had done, she had changed the Illyrian vows from 'obey' to something that worked for them, because Cauldron knew she delighted in disobeying him. "I swear to love you through the best and worst the world can throw at us. You are my rock, the last thing I know that I can hold on to when everything else fails. You certainly took your time, but so did I, I spent our time together starting to heal, to trust you, and you have never once earned a shadow of a doubt. Since we met in that training ring, I have always known, even when I wasn't quite ready to, that my heart would be safe with you. I was falling for you before I knew it, and when I did know it, I just fell all the harder. I never dreamed that I could find someone as perfect for me as you, and this whole day feels like a dream, but here we are. There is no-one like you, Azzy, and I swear to love you through this life and the next, because I will always find you, always. I swear to have your back, to be by your side, and," she added with a grin, "I swear to sometimes let you win." Azriel chuckled, "We have to protect that male ego of yours." Azriel dragged his thumb over the back of her hand as the priestess bound their hands together, the ribbon only to be removed after the party.
Azriel slid a ring onto her finger, a beautiful golden band to sit beside her engagement ring, the inside engraved with their names, and the phrase 'Always and forever', because that is what they were. She grinned as she did the same with Azriel's matching ring, laughing when the ribbon blocked her path at first, but she managed with only one hand.
"Azriel and Gwyneth Berdara, I now declare you husband and wife," the priestess said, "You may now kiss the bride," she grinned as said to Azriel, and stepped back. Gwyn leaned into the hand he pressed against her cheek and sighed as he leaned down, their lips meeting as a cheer went up all around them. Gwyn wrapped her free arm around Azriel's neck, and melted into the kiss. Home. She was really, truly, home.
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*****
Azriel swore under his breath at the sight of the rebel army, of the human forces standing side by side with the Illyrians. Siphon-fueled magic shielded them from an easy blow, and their numbers, shit, they'd make this interesting. He'd hoped that by now a good portion would have balked, given who they were facing and the dissent that his spies had been sowing for months now. But perhaps some of them had, it would have to be enough.
The wind seemed to halt the moment Feyre unfurled her spell, closing her eyes momentarily before starting to speak. He was right, the wind had dropped from a steady breeze to utter stillness, and Feyre's voice carried across the open space of the heath, each word carrying a power of its own, and adding to the humming of magic surrounding them. It fizzed and sparked through the air, and all of Azriel's training couldn't stop the slight stiffening of his muscles as it floated towards his wings. Feyre's chanting intensified, and the magic strengthened, swirling closer, closer, closer, before she practically screamed the final word and it bolted across the heath towards the army facing them, striking each and every Illyrian warrior who had rebelled. Shouts of surprise and anger reached them, but it seemed that they considered the spell a failure, and Feyre glanced back to where Rhys was standing beside Azriel, with Cassian on the other side. The High Lord nodded reassuringly, and Feyre slipped her hand into his when she rejoined the line.
Her face was taut, jaw clenched as she watched the approaching army, there would be no way to tell if the spell had worked until they attempted to take flight, and by then it would be too late to try again. Rhys nodded to Azriel and then to Cassian, grasping each of their forearms before each took flight to command one flank of the Illyrian legion. The Darkbringers would take their place on the ground once they took flight. Azriel waited a few agonizing minutes for Cassian to reach his position and to prepare his flank. Then he gave the order and, as one, thirty thousand Illyrian warriors launched skywards, the boom of wings drowning out anything else as they took their positions in the sky. The rebels attempted to mirror them, attempted and fell on their asses as the spell bound their wings, keeping them grounded.
Azriel smiled to himself as whoops of joy sounded from the air and ground around him, one moment of satisfaction was all he allowed himself before moving his warriors into position. One heartbeat of distraction was all it would take for everything to come crashing down.
The first blow was Rhys' to land, a scythe of darkness cleaving a gap in the now-vulnerable rebel forces on Cassian's side, and then on Azriel's. Cassian, of course, led the charge as the Illyrians divebombed into the broken lines, death and destruction following in their wake. The gaps in the lines widened, and Azriel pushed harder, diving to the weakness and driving a wedge of his warriors into the gap, forcing the rebel army to split into smaller, weaker groups. Shouts and cries of terror and triumph filled the air, the smell of blood and fear drowning out anything else as Azriel swerved to avoid a dagger hurled towards him, quickly returning the favor, more successfully judging by the grunt and thud as the offending rebel struck the ground.
When he caught and updraft to survey the field again, his breath caught at the sight of Cassian's warriors. There must have been only half as many as had taken flight mere minutes ago, and Azriel searched desperately for his brother, the telltale flash of his siphons nowhere to be seen. Moments before he pulled back to reinforce, half of the rebel Illyrians turned and struck at their human allies, shouts of betrayal and horror drowned out by the screams of dying men. There was nothing Azriel could do but watch as the human ranks buckled, then broke, rebel commanders screaming at them to hold, but neither could they do anything as the humans broke ranks and fled.
"Fall back!" Azriel bellowed, "Fall back!" His warriors obeyed in a heartbeat, disengaging and reforming their ranks in the sky above the rebels, ignoring the abuse being hurled at them from below. Somehow, Cassian had organised a large-scale betrayal, and he had done it in the midst of battle, but still, Azriel could not get eyes on the general, not until Cassian's side joined them in regrouping, and the rebels who had turned on their comrades flapped their wings, joining Azriel in the sky. Azriel's gaze snagged on one male, his movements fluid, so familiar he would him anywhere. Cassian was alive, not only alive, the male was a Cauldron-damned genius for pulling that off, not that Azriel would ever admit it out loud.
Azriel got no chance to reach his brother before the Darkbringers charged and he was forced to dive to the ground or risk casualties on both side from airborne attacks. This was where the true carnage would begin, no more clever strikes and retreats, no more tactical plans, all he had now to trust in was their advance planning, and superior training and skill.
He quickly lost track of the number he had fought and killed, his sword gleaming red from the blood sliding down it onto his gloves. He'd almost been crushed into the ground upon landing amongst the heaving mass of fighting warriors, no discipline, no order. He'd tried to re-form the lines, but the Illyrians had all been lost to the heat of battle, to the bloodlust that could overtake them, making them almost deaf to orders, certainly to ones of caution and retreat.
He swung his sword again, stumbling when it caught on the male's armor and he was forced to release it, rolling sideways to avoid the downwards strike aimed for his head, shadows suffocating the male who had seen him let go of the weapon. A sword, he needed one, the inferior reach of his knives would see him dead, but there were too many warriors around him, and he couldn't see the ground at his feet, let alone a sword. There, a warrior fell beside him and, whispering a prayer for the male's soul, Azriel caught his blade before it disappeared into the heaving mass of bodies, both dead and dying, rotating his wrist to block another blade flashing towards him, the sword sliding between his assailant's ribs before the male knew about it.
But they were giving ground, Azriel could feel himself being slowly cut off from his army, and snarled in annoyance as he retreated to the half-broken line behind him, rebels falling in his wake. They were down too many warriors, if they continued, they would be overrun, but he couldn't get enough space to take off to order a retreat and regroup. He gasped in a breath as a male stumbled into him, the sheer number of warriors around him giving him no space to recover as he fell.
The mud was suffocating, and each time Azriel tried to rise, someone stumbled over him, kicked him in the ribs or stepped on him. This was it, rule number one in battle was do not fall, or you'll never get back up, Azriel had always been slightly cynical, but now he saw the unequivocal truth in those words, it had nothing to do with his skill or strength, there was simply no opportunity. He tried again, but someone fell onto him, crushing the air out of his lungs, and he fought desperately to kick them off, coughing in an attempt to call for help, but little sound came out and he couldn't be heard over the roar of fighting all around.
"Retreat! Fall back!" Azriel's vision blurred from lack of air and he shoved upwards in a last attempt to survive, the male crushing him falling away as a space cleared. Azriel crawled away from the churned up mud, crouching as he drew in breath after breath,
Azriel! He blinked. That voice didn't belong to a shadow, no, that was Gwyn, his mate knew something was wrong, Azzy!
M' okay, I swear. He wasn't certain she could hear him but she'd reached him mentally twice now, so perhaps the bond really could link them like Feyre and Rhys in times of distress, even if neither were daemati.
"Az!" Cassian's voice boomed over the field as both sides drew back to regroup, Rhys' shouts of Azriel's name joining Cassian's a moment later. He allowed a flash of his siphons to alert them to his location, and forced himself to his feet, breathing finally returning to normal as Rhys landed in front of him.
"Still alive?" His brother panted, and Azriel smirked,
"And kicking, lost my sword though,"
"Pick another one," Rhys winced at the sight of so many of his people lying dead on the field, and Azriel's heart lurched at the thought of taking a dead male's blade, but he did pick another one, swearing to donate it to a youngster who needed it more if he survived this battle. Rhys offered him a hand to winnow them back, but as he turned away from the rebels' side of the field, a male Azriel had taken for dead surged towards them.
He couldn't tell what had made him move, for he was already moving before the rebel, stepping in front of Rhys and shoving his brother aside as he deflected the blow meant to kill the High Lord. He snarled as Rhys stumbled back at the force of Azriel's shove, blocking out the sound of outrage and battle cries as the Night Court's armies re-launched their assault on the rebel forces after seeing their High Lord attacked. Still, a circle of space seemed to surround Azriel and his opponent who, despite the blood and filth covering him was unmistakable. That smirk was twin to the one in his memories of fire and pain.
"Now isn't this a surprise little brother?" The male crooned,
"I think I'll enjoy this, would have loved the pleasure of killing father, but I suppose you two will have to do," Azriel spat,
"He's dead?" The male faltered just for a heartbeat at the easy lie, and Azriel struck, a series of lightning-fast strikes that had his brother stumbling back in his desperation to meet each one, giving foot after foot of ground, until Azriel relented,
"This is simply disappointing, I've wasted energy bothering to hate someone this pathetic. My nephew fights better than you!" The male winced at the shout, and struck back weakly. Azriel didn't bother to meet the blow, simply stepping sideways to evade the attack. He planted his foot into the male's ass, sending him flying into the mud. Rhys had recovered by now, but seeing the identity of the male, he kept back, content to guard Azriel's back and offer him this chance. Azriel snarled a challenge as the male he'd never claimed as a true brother stumbled to his feet. The sounds of battle all around faded as Azriel stared down the male who had tried to destroy a child, who had laughed as he screamed for his mother. The male who had taken his past now threatened his future, and that was one thing Azriel could not allow.
He sneered as the male panted in breath after breath, his grip on the hilt of his sword loose and unsteady. He swayed on his feet, eyes wide with fear as he stared at the boy he'd almost murdered, and the warrior who had stepped out of the fire and made the shadows his allies. Azriel didn't bother to raise his own sword, a sense of almost-satisfaction rising within him at the flare of anger in his enemy's eyes at the insult in his dismissal of his abilities. The male roared in defiance as he swung his sword, Azriel's blade meeting his in the air between them, the screech of steel on steel filling the air around them as nearby warriors halted to stare in awe at the clash of power. Death power struck for him, but Azriel met it with his own, his brother's two siphons no match for Azriel's seven. Azriel slid his blade down until the crosspieces met and shoved, hard, his brother's grip on his sword failing as the blade spun away, right into Rhys' hand.
The male stared in desperation after it, fear drenching his scent at the realization that he would not be able to retrieve it, or any other weapon.
"Please," he whispered, "I tired, I tried to make him stop, please, please,"
"Don't insult me by lying," Azriel spat, "If I cared about your excuses I would have asked, I would have asked our pathetic excuse for a brother. He seemed to think it was your fault, who am I to believe?"
"I-" Azriel cut him off before he could speak,
"I don't care. Neither is the true answer, because unlike both of you, I remember it all, you both delighted in every moment, and I would kill you for it, but someone told me recently that to destroy a monster you must be better than them, you most certainly are a monster, but unfortunately for you, I am not."
"Unfortunately?" He gasped, glancing across to where Rhys was leaning against a spear thrust point-first into the ground. The High Lord only shot him a grin that promised blood-soaked violence,
"Oh yes, I won't end you, but my true brothers most certainly will." The male's face paled, and he dropped to his knees, but Azriel didn't bother to stay to hear his pleas for his miserable life. He turned his back on the male he'd hated for so long, a weight lifting as the rebel lines buckled under a renewed assault. Without a leader to manage a retreat and regroup, the lines broke. With the lines broken, fighting broke out, but not between armies, no, this time the rebels that turned on their comrades really had betrayed them, had been biding their time, and Azriel would have bet Truthteller that he knew one of those males, what was his name, Nathan, that was it. Azriel made a mental note to find out if he was among those who'd defected from the rebels and to speak with him if so, he wanted to know why the young warrior had fallen in with rebels in the first place if, perhaps, he'd even had a choice. When the first male ran, the whole army streamed after him to cries of triumph from the Night Court's armies and the rebels turned loyalists. Despite their recent actions, Azriel would have to speak with each of them, to find where their loyalties truly lay. But that was a job for another day.
Azriel allowed himself a smile when someone stepped beside him, Rhys, his High Lord, his friend, his brother, draped an arm around Azriel's shoulders, and stood beside him as the Illyrian legions drew back, leaving the Darkbringers to halt, frozen for a moment before their commanders pulled them back to the war camp far behind the lines. Azriel closed his eyes, pulling himself back together in the shelter of darkness, of his brother's embrace. And when he opened his eyes again, his racing heart had slowed, his breathing had steadied, and his hands had stopped shaking. For the first time in five and a half centuries, he finally knew what true peace felt like, no worries in the back of his mind, just complete and utter peace, edged with joy for the future.
The sound of a boot catching in the mud behind him snapped that feeling, and he acted on instinct, whirling and snatching the dagger aimed to sever his spine out of an enemy's hand, spinning it as he slipped it between his assailant's ribs. Azriel stared into his so-called brother's face one last time, only his strength keeping the male upright as the light left his eyes and he slumped. Azriel's breath caught, but the horror he half-expected didn't come, it should have done, but he was beyond the small part that wanted to care, wanted his blooded brothers to care as the ones he had chosen. It had been too long, one too many let-downs, and he simply could not bring himself to care as he allowed the male's lifeless body to fall to the floor, the dagger swiftly following. Azriel was sure he'd hate himself for it later, but in that moment all he felt was relief, relief that he wouldn't have to worry anymore, relief that it was over, after centuries it was finally over. All he wanted was to go home, to see his mate, to let her slowly take away all the pain and guilt until he recognized himself again.
Rhys placed a hand on his shoulder and guided him away, not letting go until they reached the war camp. Cassian had taken command after they had stayed on the killing field, the Illyrians easily falling into their post-battle routines. The healers moved quietly between injured warriors outside and in and out of infirmary tents. Cassian had silently joined them in meandering through the tents until they reached the command tent, the Darkbringer camp to the left behind it, and the Valkyries' tents to the right.
He pushed the tent flaps aside, and his heart stopped at the sight of gorgeous teal eyes staring right at him. Gwyn launched herself out of her chair, crashing into Azriel's arms so hard that he stumbled back a pace to catch her. He brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and promptly forgot that their whole family was watching as she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He slid a hand into her hair, the other holding her up as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Time stood still when they pulled apart, and he pressed his forehead against hers,
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*****
Azriel faltered. He couldn't have heard her correctly, Azriel Berdara,
"What?" He breathed, losing sight of everything in the face of those two words,
"Surely you could take my name, right?"
"I don't know, it's never been done that I know of, but yeah, I guess, Rhys could, he could make that actually happen." His chest was heaving now, "You sure?"
"Absolutely, I've been thinking about it since you asked, and why not?"
"Berdara it is," Azriel said, his beautiful mate grinning up at him as she lifted her head to press her lips against his cheek. He swerved in the sky, sending Gwyn into fits of giggles, "Don't do that!" He hissed, the moment of distraction having cost him, but at least no one else had seen.
"You sure you can make it home?" She teased, and Azriel narrowed his eyes at her, brushing a kiss just beneath her ear. When she shuddered and closed her eyes, he pretended to drop her, laughing at her slow reaction. She buried her face in his chest, her arms tightening around him to an almost painful degree as she mumbled something indiscernible, probably a threat knowing her.
She was a genius, Azriel realized as he landed on the lawn outside the River House, the scent of roses and bread permeating the air, they must be in time for lunch. Gwyn stumbled once as he set her down, then noted the scent and grinned,
"Nuala must be cooking today, that saves me the embarrassment of trying to,"
"I was thinking I've never seen you cook,"
"I can't, I burned toast last time I tried. Catrin was brilliant, she got all the culinary skill," she smiled to herself, the smile tinged with sadness, but no longer the soul-crushing grief that she'd still felt when Azriel had first met her.
"Come on, let's go see what she's making,"
"And steal something before she's done?"
"Tradition demands it."
Spymaster indeed, Gwyn shook her head at Azriel and the fresh loaf he'd snatched before Nuala had chased them out of the kitchen, brandishing a rather dangerous looking copper ladle. Azriel grinned, and tore a chunk of bread off, offering it to her, and it was almost enough for Gwyn to forgive him for getting them caught, because it had been Azriel's furtive giggle that had drawn Nuala's attention and ire. Not even the shadows had been able to hide them, not that they'd even tried to hide Azriel, but Gwyn had been forced to run as well, the half-wraith more than wise to their tricks. She shot him a glare, but the scent of the bread won over her annoyance at getting caught, and mumbled a string of incoherent insults as she took it, most of them involving the phrase 'ham-fisted buffoon'. Azriel tossed back his head as he laughed, his eyes bright when he looked back to Gwyn. She quickly finished her mouthful bread, prepared to launch into a verbal sparring match again, but he took he by surprise, stepping towards so that she had to look upwards to meet his gaze, the door at her back, Azriel at her front.
Her mind emptied when he leaned one hand on the doorframe beside her head, the other curling under her chin. She forgot why she'd even been slightly annoyed in the first place when he kissed her, pulling away just as she started to melt into him. He winked at her and she realized he'd stolen the remainder of the bread and she cursed, but it was too late.
"That's cheating," she announced, and, not giving him a chance to argue, darted sideways to claim the first bath as Azriel started after her, a smile gracing his lips. She glanced back at him as she tugged her shirt over her head to bathe, laughing when he fumbled the clasp he was trying to undo on his leathers, his soft curse making Gwyn grin to herself. She was looking forward to a forever of this, of him, and now she was so close to securing that future.
*****
It was all coming together, Feyre and Amren's search had found something, from that damned book that had attacked Gwyn no less. More accurately Nesta had found something in that book, the kernel of Cauldron-born power guiding her hand to the very spell they needed. True, Feyre hadn't been able to practice lest the spell only work once, but they had the spell. Azriel leaned against the wall of the building beside the training pitch at Windhaven, and smiled. The gathered Illyrian legion had quickly adapted to the intense training and housework schedule that he and Cassian had devised, with only a few brawls breaking out among the gathered warriors. Considering the sheer number of Illyrians in one camp, that was seriously impressive, especially given that Rhys had, in no uncertain terms, demanded the inclusion of both males and females in training and housework.
The females currently on the pitch had been joined by their male counterparts a few minutes ago, and while a few broke concentration to greet a father, brother or lover, the air of tension and barely concealed anger that he had become accustomed to was notably absent. The males had merely offered nods of greeting to the females they passed and had joined training with no complaints. The senior officers who had been instructing the females and some of the younger males were quick to lay down the law on anyone who grew distracted or disruptive, giving no special treatment to anyone.
Azriel allowed the shadows around him to disperse, no longer needing to covertly keep an eye on the training.
You're surprised. A statement, the shadow knew him well enough not to need to ask,
I didn't expect this kind of success so soon after the severe pushback from the Camp Lords, almost all of whom are still here, not with the rebels. A part of Azriel wished that he'd met that one traitorous Camp Lord while he'd been on the Continent, but perhaps he should be pleased that only one had rebelled.
You disregard the pressure placed on them by their warriors, some of whom are now among the rebels. The shadow made a small movement towards the next pitch that Azriel passed, and his gaze snagged on a male instructing a young female. He smiled again when he recognized them, well the male, the Camp Lord who had complained at mixed training, and the young female must be the daughter he had been worried for. Her head shot up as he passed, eyes wide in recognition, but far from flinching away in fear, she smiled and waved, her father prodding her in the side to regain her attention. He set her to practice as he stepped away to greet Azriel,
"Shadowsinger."
"Camp Lord," Azriel inclined his head in greeting,
"It's not often that I'm wrong,"
More like it's not often he admits it. Azriel struggled to stifle the laugh at the whisper in his ear,
Shut up.
The male continued to admit that his daughter had come out of her shell with the training, and that it was likely the rebels that were the issue, and not the changes to the law.
"I'm glad to hear that. And I'm glad to see your daughter out here, along with all the others. While I have you, perhaps you can help me," the male raised an eyebrow in surprise, "The new schedule is an abrupt change, I know that. How has it been received?"
"I'm sure you've seen,"
"And I'm sure you know that everyone is on their best behavior when Cassian or I show up, I'm asking you, you've seen every day. Today is the third day I've seen at all."
"It's different, that's true, and it definitely took a bit of adjusting to, especially for the males, including myself. I've never felt more useless than when my wife had to teach me to cook the simplest meals, but I've not seen any animosity towards it, only some difficulty in learning the new skills and the change."
"And it's a good change?"
"I would say so, the females are more confident, stronger, and less jumpy in some cases. That helps with their day-to-day life, but the males too, they're self-sufficient, no more meat on a stick over a fire on operations." Azriel's lips tugged upwards into a half smile, "And their sense of camaraderie has been improved, they don't just wallop each other any more, they cook and clean together, as a team, not just individuals."
"Excellent. Can I ask a favor?"
"Of course," the male cocked his head to the side, considering what Azriel might ask of him,
"I'd like you and the other Camp Lords, you can ask your senior officers if you like, but I want you to keep a bit of an eye out for how morale is looking, and which units are performing the best and let me know of any problems."
"Absolutely," he heaved a slight sigh of relief,
"None of you are off the hook for previous, shall we say disagreements with the High Lord, but consider this an opportunity to reconsider that attitude and put it in the past." The Camp Lord nodded, eyes widening at the offer. Rhys' old reputation was not easily forgotten after centuries of careful management, but Azriel hated that look of surprise, even as he forced himself to acknowledge that few High Lords would have offered such a chance, perhaps only Thesan would, but his husband, no, and the others Azriel could not be sure about. But Rhys had seen the potential in this new order, and the headache of several new Camp Lords and caring for their widows and orphans would not have been worth it, not with the option of redemption. Azriel had been skeptical, but now he saw that same possibility, a little later than Rhys, but there was a reason that his brother was High Lord.
He only hoped that preparations in Velaris were going smoothly, that the Valkyrie and Healer units would be ready for the coming battle, and that they would walk off that battlefield. Although, with Gwyn, Nesta and Emerie leading the fighting units, and Laylah heading up the Healers, he couldn't consider another possibility, they would make it through. He would make it through he promised himself. He would make it through. He would make it through.
Before he'd registered moving, he'd reached the door to Rhys's mother's house, and after sweeping the house and unbuckling his weapons, he sank onto the couch facing the still-burning fireplace. He found himself rubbing his hands, no, just one finger, that empty ring finger, it was as if his subconscious knew that it wouldn't be empty for much longer. That was what he clung to each time he picked up a sword these days, he would make it through, he would make it through and marry his mate, the love of his life, because their was no alternative, no other possible future.
The shadows warned him a moment before the door creaked open, the hinges always a little stiff, granting that slight extra warning. This time it wasn't needed, and Azriel nodded a greeting as Cassian stepped through the doorway, grinning when he saw his brother by the fireplace,
"Tough day?"
"Actually no," Azriel admitted, "It looks like the new changes are being received well, even by the Lords of Whining."
"You talk to anyone?"
"They're gonna keep an eye for me, saves my workload tonight."
"You're not going back out there?" Azriel shook his head, and glanced over at the clink of metal as Cassian unceremoniously dumped his weapons onto the weapons rack, "Then have a drink with me, brother." He couldn't refuse, and snorted a laugh when Cassian didn't bother with glasses, merely scooping up two bottles of aged whiskey and swigging from one as he crossed to where Azriel was seated. "To change and the future we've been waiting for!" Azriel clinked his bottle against Cassian's, and added a silent toast of his own,
To the female who pushed me to be worthy of that future.
*****
Wind swept across the deserted heath, heather and grasses murmuring at its caress. No-one moved, not the Illyrians, poised to launch skywards, not the Darkbringer legions fanned out behind them. The shadow of the rebel forces still several miles across the heath grew with each breath, the rumbling sound of a thousand footfalls increasing with each heartbeat. Azriel kept an arm around Gwyn's shoulders, and grinned as Rhys stepped out of the line, his magic amplifying his voice as he shouted to the warriors of the Night Court.
"Look to the warrior beside you! In front and behind! They fight beside you, for you! For we have something that they," he threw an arm to gesture to the shadow of the rebel army, "Will never have, we have something to truly fight for! Your families back home, your friends beside you, your home and your very right to live! Nothing can take that away, nothing! There may come a day when the Night Court cannot face its enemies, but look beside you, it is not this day!" A roar of defiance answered him at that, "Will you stand with me? Stand to defend our homes and people? Will you fight those who would do it harm? Who will stand?" Azriel almost winced at the wave of sound that radiated from the gathered armies, Illyrian and High Fae alike swearing their swords and lives to the battle, to their High Lord's command, healers and Valkyries screaming that they would fight, and win.
Rhys moved silently back into the line, grasping Feyre's hand as she re-read her spell, her breathing slow and controlled. Azriel knew in that moment that they were thinking of the son that they'd left sleeping in his crib, and all he could think was that they would see him soon.
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*****
Cassian gripped Azriel's shoulder as he leaned against the table in Rhys' war room, the map spread across the table practically taunting him. He hadn't taken his gaze off the camp in the North of Illyria, that same keep he'd visited a few months ago, it was screaming at him, filling his mind with flame and blood and darkness.
"Az?" Cassian's voice broke through the thoughts, and Azriel looked up to his brother, worry lining his face, "Send someone else, you don't have to do everything yourself. It's okay, I swear." Azriel dropped his gaze from Cassian's, something like shame burning his insides at the cowardice Cassian had picked up on.
"I do have to. He'll know why if I don't, he'll spin lies or just refuse until I go." Azriel rolled his shoulders, wings trembling with the effort of staying in the room and not diving out of the nearest window to fly until his mind went quiet again.
"You want me to come?" Yes. No. Maybe,
"No, I'm not bringing a safety blanket,"
"Is that all I am?" Cassian teased, and some of the strain on Azriel's mind eased, but he said, voice still tense,
"Gwyn will insist, and that's okay because she helped capture him and works with me these days, you don't in the same way, Cass, it'll be obvious you're just there for support, which is a weakness I don't need to display." Rhys could get away with it, but he'd already offered, and Azriel had convinced him to stay, not wanting to show their hand yet, perhaps 'Asshole Number One', as Gwyn had called him, might talk better if he thought it was just Azriel, and that they didn't already know some of his plans. It would be hard enough to pretend he knew nothing of those plans, the bloodshed and chaos his own blood wanted to sow across the land, the pain he wanted to cause. Azriel closed his eyes in an attempt to quell the nausea threatening to crest, but all that did was show him the male's laughing face as Azriel screamed, too young to understand what they had done, or why. Both brothers had always been cruel, tyrannical, but this? It was something else, and he knew he could act to halt it, but all his traitorous mind would focus on was the memories of them, of that place, ancient and recent memories blending into one. It wasn't the male himself that made him sick, but their relation, and the knowledge that Azriel himself was no better.
"He made his choice, Az. It has no bearing on you," Rhys assured him, "You have nothing to do with him. You are nothing like him." Truth and lie. Maybe Rhys truly believed him, maybe Cassian did, but it wasn't true. He was like that male. Rhys had seen the results of interrogations, but he had never seen the male, the monster, that Azriel became to achieve those results. Almost five hundred years, and he still vomited his guts up after every one of them, it didn't matter if they deserved it, if it was to save more lives. The justification didn't matter, not really. He deserved to share that damned name, the one branding him a monster, a murderer, the one that not even his true brothers could replace, just like the monster prowling beneath his skin that they could never be allowed to see, that they couldn't separate from the male they knew. They were one and the same, Azriel and the monster, he had never quite been able to kill it, just to keep it at bay, he'd noticed its demands for blood and pain lessening at times, with his family, with Gwyn in particular, but it was always there, there was always a chance it could wake. He was like that male, he was just better at hiding it. But he didn't say that, he couldn't, so he just nodded his thanks,
"Let's have a drink later," Cassian suggested, "Take our minds off things for a while, I bet Rita would be glad to see us, and it'd do the people good to see us all out." Azriel barely heard himself agreeing, barely felt himself moving, the preparation for leaving in twenty minutes all an old instinct now.
He didn't speak the whole flight out of Velaris, except to warn Gwyn just before he winnowed to the Hewn City. The guards standing outside offered him tense nods as he passed, their gaze lingering on Gwyn, on Azriel's hand wrapped around hers, her warmth the only feeling of life. She squeezed his hand as they neared the cells deep in the mountain. He halted in front of an iron door, ancient markings to nullify magic etched into the metal, an old language, one he couldn't read, but he knew a few of the markings, knew they became more powerful with the blood of the fae. He tried not to stare at the dried blood in the markings, tried not to think about whose blood had been used millennia ago and who was first held here.
Gwyn pressed against his side, and wrapped her arms around his waist,
"We can go home if you want, and come again tomorrow, or we can get it over with. Tell me what you're thinking."
"I'm thinking that I need to do it, else I won't be able to do anything else."
"Let's do it then," she looked up at him then, her eyes an oasis of calm, of life in the gloom of the dungeon, "I'm right by your side." Azriel offered her a grateful smile before unlocking the door and sending a flash of siphon-fueled magic to block the male attempting to tackle him.
"None of that," he snapped, automatically falling into the guise of the Spymaster, as he glared at the male the world called his brother, the eldest of the two legitimate heirs. The male had seen better days, his leathers torn, presumably from futile escape attempts, his hair limp where it fell, longer than usual, his skin paler than Azriel had ever seen it. "I'm not here to hurt you, just to talk,"
"Oh yeah? You're not going to try to take revenge? As if I'd believe that," he practically spat the words and Azriel curled a lip in disgust,
"No," he snapped, "As I told you before, blood is the only thing you and I share, I have no desire for unnecessary bloodshed or pain."
"The great Spymaster," the male crooned, "Who'd have thought you an idealist? No, not that, just a fool, a stupid, soft fool," the male spat the words at Azriel, who just stood by the now-closed door, and raised an eyebrow.
"You done?"
"Bastard."
"Yes, that is an accurate description of the circumstances of my birth." The male snarled, and his gaze moved to Gwyn, a predatory glint in those dark eyes that had Azriel's hackles rising, ready to put down any threat to her,
"Hello," the male purred, but before Azriel had a chance to respond, Gwyn stepped forwards, into full view, and cocked her head to the side.
"Looking a little worse for wear, aren't we? How are you finding our hospitality?"
"I'm going to gut you, you little bitch," the male snarled,
"Didn't you already try? I'm quite happy to carry through on those threats, I've heard how," she paused for a moment, and the male kept his gaze fixed on her, the inclination to speak never once crossing his mind as Gwyn searched for the right word, "Debilitating. Yes, I've heard how debilitating it is for an Illyrian to lose his wings." Azriel resisted glancing across at her in surprise as the male before them shifted back uncomfortably, she'd hit the bullseye on the first try. How she'd remembered his reactions before, at the mortal queens' palace with everything that had happened since was beyond him, but he couldn't have been more impressed, at least until she smiled, and leaned against the wall, and drew a dagger, frowning as she tested the edge. "Should've sharpened this," she admitted, and shrugged, "Perhaps you should use this one, Truthteller's too sharp, a blunt blade would be more effective." She was right, a blunt blade would hurt more, do more damage, but gods, she was incredible. Gwyn met his gaze, the facade of delight in the male's reaction hiding the message that look gave. She was right there, by his side as she would always be, and he could do this, with her, he could do this.
The male flinched away from him when Azriel leaned over to pluck the dagger from Gwyn's grip, testing the weight as he circled round to face his brother. The male snapped towards him, arm outstretched for the dagger, but he was too slow, Azriel sidestepped, not needing to land a blow as the male sent himself sprawling. Azriel chuckled as he crouched beside him,
"You and I are going to have a little talk."
*****
They'd been in that cell for a total of forty-one minutes before Azriel had rolled his shoulders and announced that he and Gwyn were going to take some air, and they'd be back again if his brother's information proved false. That promise had summoned a wave of reassurances as undiluted fear swam in the male's eyes, radiated from him, the scent of it thick in the damp air of the dungeon. Even unharmed, without Azriel having to even touch him, the male knew what he was capable of if circumstances necessitated it. He might be a first-class Asshole, but at least he wasn't stupid.
Gwyn was trembling with barely-contained energy as they walked back through the belly of the Hewn City, the guards they passed nodding respectfully at Azriel, and sneering at Gwyn, but only when Azriel wasn't looking. There was no way he hadn't noticed, but he'd likely also noticed the too-sweet smile, the promise of violence that she'd given each offender, that smile sending them packing in a hurry. That smile was probably the only reason that he hadn't overreacted, that and her hand in his, a dangerous admission of where his affections lay, how best to hurt him, but she couldn't help it. His hand was warm, not like the damp heat of underground, but the warmth of life, she'd never liked enclosed spaces, and if she didn't like it, Azriel was sure to be much more on edge. If there was a chance that she could ease the fear that being underground summoned, if she could keep his mind from the memory of the male they'd come to see, she'd happily place herself in the line of fire, for him she'd do it without hesitation.
The cool air was a relief after the stuffy darkness of the Hewn City, the wind carrying with it the scents of the forest lying beneath the mountain, the scent of freedom. Azriel closed his eyes as the wind brushed through his hair, his wings spreading slightly on what must have been a reflex. Gwyn couldn't help staring for the moment, the sense of peace that had washed over them. It lasted only a mere heartbeat, for when Azriel opened his eyes, his gaze was cold, expression almost unreadable, almost, except for the tightness in his jaw, the way he kept his gaze moving, almost casually, but Gwyn knew it for what it was. He might be outside, no longer trapped underground, but this close to the wind and sky, he could still lose it. She cupped his jaw and breathed deeply, allowing her appreciation of the air, of the wind's whispering become more pronounced, smiling as the tension in his jaw, his shoulders eased slowly, each breath releasing a little more. Once the almost-panic had faded, she met his gaze, a silent question and answer passing between them in that moment, she wanted to go home, and he was ready to leave, to fly out of here.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, more than happy to launch into the sky, leaving the Hewn City, and its Court of Nightmares within, far behind. She rested her cheek against Azriel's shoulder, hiding her face from the wind whipping past them. True, Azriel could shield them from it but, right now, he needed the feeling of the wind, and Gwyn would not take it from him, not now. Besides, it was an excuse to curl up against his chest, his scent drowning out all others.
Once they'd made some distance from the Hewn City, once Azriel's breathing had returned to normal, slower and deeper than in those moments before they'd left, slowly starting to match the rhythm of her own. She slipped a hand up the back of his neck to tangle in his hair, playing with the strands, not long enough for braiding, but she was quite content like this, with his hair like this. She loved it in these moments, mussed by the wind, all messy and out of place, but still so very Azriel, it was him with nothing hiding, no mask, just him, how could she not love it? She smiled to herself at the thought that Nesta had probably braided Cassian's hair, it was long enough. She giggled at the thought of Cassian showing up at training, his hair full of tiny braids, the great general still beholden to the wishes of his mate.
Azriel's arms tightened around her at the sound, and a ghost of a smile crossed his face,
"Do I want to know?" His voice was still tight, but less so with each word,
"I can't braid your hair," she observed, "But I was just thinking about Nesta doing just that to Cassian, and forbidding him to take them out." Azriel smiled slightly again, just for a moment, but it was there. There was no way around this now, he had something he needed to say, to talk through, but he'd need a little nudge. Gwyn asked what he was thinking.
"What if he's lying?" The question all but burst out of him, the opportunity to talk being all he had needed,
"Is that what you were worried about? He's not, you saw his fear at the suggestion."
"But what if he is?"
"Do you think he was, I don't know him, you've seen him lying and telling the truth, what do your instincts say?"
"That he was telling the truth, but-"
"No. You told me that my instincts were good, yours have had centuries to hone, we will deal with everything as it comes, but I do not believe that he was lying, not this time." Azriel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, and Gwyn shifted in his arms to look up at him better, smiling as he tilted his face into her touch,
"Thank you for coming, I," he broke off before continuing a moment later, "I don't think I'd have made it through on my own. I hate him. He's everything wrong with the Illyrians, and he's my own damn blood. I just, I hate him."
"Blood is the only thing you share." But it wasn't, she knew that the name forced upon him had always fueled his hate for his own people. She's seen the momentary panic when she'd accepted his proposal, had known the thought was of her bearing that same name. "And if you like," she added, lifting her head to look him straight in the eyes, "We can fix the other problem."
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*****
Lailah was sitting with a group of her healers when Gwyn found her the next morning. The quiet surrounding them doused any leftover heat filling her body, leaving her with only an ache between her thighs to remind her of the previous night. Lailah glanced up, and offered Gwyn a tight smile, she'd been the one who'd taken the lead on support after the battle. Taken the lead while Gwyn was lying in bed, unable to help. She closed her eyes and pushed that though away, she had been unable to do anything, but she could now.
"How are they doing?"
"It's tough for some of them, most who chose to face the front lines are more or less okay, they knew what they were signing up for. It's less of a surprise than a hit from reality, those who were behind the lines are the ones having problems. I think we should split into two units, one to be behind the lines and dealing with the casualties off the field, and one for on the field, we're not all cut out for one or the other." Gwyn nodded her agreement, thoughts of mud and blood and screams filling her mind for a moment,
"If anyone needs time off they are to take it,"
"Says who? We know we're needed,"
"Says me, there's no battles in the next few days or weeks likely, the rebels are going to have to lick their wounds, and if Rhys has a problem he can take it up with me, but I doubt it."
"Thank you." Lailah relaxed visibly, her shoulders sinking slightly from the raised, tense position, "But we want to do all we can. What we've seen and faced is awful, but there is not a female among us who would step back now. We're with you." Her eyes were bright, brighter than Gwyn had realized, the shadows she'd thought were there were simply darker circles under her eyes. She nodded, and squeezed Lailah's shoulder,
"Do get some rest though, I'll let you know what you might be able to help with, I'm sure there'll be something. Do they all share your sentiments?" She must have been speaking louder than she'd realized because one of the females Lailah had been sitting with voiced her agreement, then another, until they were all speaking over one another, their voices blending into one chorus of defiant determination. "Excellent," Gwyn chuckled, "You should all be very proud of yourselves, and of the unit as a whole," she announced.
"Would you join us? We're practicing the mind-stilling you wrote about in your account of the Valkyries." That explained the silence then, Gwyn nodded, allowing herself to smile, it had been too long since she'd spent any amount of time with some of the females in that group, females she'd once shared the library with.
It was Roslin who grinned when Gwyn sat beside her,
"And maybe you can tell us a little something about that ring on your finger and the gorgeous male you've moved in with."
"You know him," she teased,
"Not well, and not beyond training," Roslin complained, "But you do,"
"I do," Gwyn confirmed, "I love him. And that's all you get, for now at least, let's leave this for later," for when we don't have an audience was the sentence she didn't need to speak, and some part of Roslin instinctively knew it. They'd never been close like Gwyn was with Nesta and Emerie but Roslin was kind and she liked to talk to others, Gwyn had learned to start chatting again with her, and it felt like old times with her. She smiled as Roslin took her hand, and the female on her other side took the other. After a request from Lailah, Gwyn led the group through a mind-stilling exercise, grateful for that chance to practice it herself, the weight lifting from her shoulders with each breath she exhaled.
I am the rock against which the surf crashes.
I cannot be broken.
I am Gwyneth Berdara and I will not be afraid.
Gwyn narrowed her focus in on her breathing, counting the breaths in and out as she repeated the familiar phases out loud and in her head, barely registering the others around her copying her. Still, the weight of Roslin's hand in hers and the other female, Alana if she remembered correctly, was a welcome touch, a reminder that even deep in her own mind, she wasn't adrift, not like she had been for years. Every female her, whether a priestess or Illyrian understood her, could relate in some way, and the strength of the energy of solidarity surrounding her was nearly overwhelming. She had never anticipated the warmth she now felt in her chest every time she saw the unit training, the way seeing them on the battlefield had calmed her. Cauldron, that calm and pride had probably been what had allowed her to break through her fear and move from simply surviving to saving Azriel. She owed these females her mate's life, at least indirectly.
It took very little encouraging from Roslin and Lailah for Gwyn to stay once the mind stilling session was finished. She spoke to females she barely knew and those she did, sharing experiences of the battle, of the library and everything in between. But she saved her most precious experiences, the deepest feelings of her heart for those who held a place in it, one of whom was likely already on his way, having promised he'd take her with him to see Maddy later to discuss their next steps.
Sure enough, wingbeats sounded through the still air of the River House's garden, and Gwyn grinned as she glanced up to see Azriel moments before he landed in front of her, offering her his hand, which she took as she stood from the bench she'd been seated on. She didn't miss the grins from the females surrounding them when he winked at her, his gaze lingering on her left hand, on the Illyrian diamonds glittering in the morning sun,
"My lady," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes that Gwyn had only seen a few times before, and it melted her heart as she laughed,
"Azzy," no 'my lord' in return, knowing him, he'd cling to those words and bring them up out of context in front of everyone else, just to embarrass her. It was too bad that she was the only one of them now holding that kind of ammunition. She gripped his hand a little tighter at the way a couple of the females nearby sighed when he glanced in their direction. Azriel smiled at her, and swept her into his arms before launching skywards,
"Feeling territorial?" He asked, his breath hot against her cheek, a whisper in her ear, and Gwyn shuddered at the feeling, earning a deep chuckle from Azriel.
"So what if I am? You'd hate it if other males were looking at me,"
"I would. And I'd enjoy watching you kick their asses back to whatever shithole they came from." Gwyn ducked her head into Azriel's warm chest, shielding her face from the wind, it had the added benefit of hiding the flush that had crept over her face at his words. She would kick their asses to the curb, but it was the satisfaction in his tone that warmed her chest. She wrapped her arms tighter around his neck and closed her eyes, relaxing into his hold, the sound of his breaths, his wingbeats lulling her to sleep.
*****
Gwyn didn't notice when he landed, and Azriel didn't wake her as he walked into the hidden and warded cabin not far from Velaris. The wards were the reason he'd flown in, as well as how beautiful Gwyn had been when that grin sprung to her face the moment he took off, and the feeling of her curled up in his arms, completely at ease, completely trusting him. She was his everything, and he was too weak a male not to do everything to make that moment last, but the war was here yet again to shatter that peace, even if it was his own fault, arranging a meeting with Maddy.
"The stars are bright tonight," a voice floated in from the gloom,
"They shine with the moon," Azriel replied, a smile forming when Maddy stepped out of a shadowed corner, grinning,
"Still alive I see," Azriel's smile faltered for a moment and he gestured at Gwyn with a jerk of his head,
"Only thanks to my mate," Maddy raised and eyebrow,
"Mate and fiancée?" Azriel let out a snort of laughter,
"I finally got over myself and asked,"
"I'll say," Maddy teased, "It was about time, Azriel, I could have told you that months ago." Gwyn chose that moment to wake, blinking in surprise,
"Wasn't asleep," she stated, but her yawn rather ruined the effect,
"Of course not, love," Azriel chuckled, and set her down, "We're here by the way, Maddy's got everything together already I think," Maddy nodded, and Gwyn mumbled a greeting before stretching her arms above her head and jumping up and down a couple of times to shake the sleep from her bones. She slipped her hand into Azriel's, and the motion was so natural, just an unconscious movement, an instinct, as was the little squeeze Azriel gave her hand before leading her to the room in which Maddy had presumably been flaunting top secret information.
Of course. There were not only maps strewn across the broad table in the center of the room but letters, records, all manner of sensitive information, about both their enemies and the Night Court itself,
"Really, Maddy?"
"You're the only other person who knows of this location, well, other than the High Lord, and Lady probably, but I set a self-destruct spell, it's keyed to my life when I'm here, the only way an enemy would have gotten in here would have been by killing me." Azriel winced at the thought, and Maddy shrugged, the absolute lack of caring would have worried him had he not known that she simply lived in the moment, she believed that when death came for her, it was her time. "If I die on the premises, only on the premises, this whole place blows up, killing anyone else and destroying these documents." Azriel whistled in approval,
"Clever, although," he added with a smile, "It would be easier and safer to just hide them,"
"That's so much effort!" Maddy complained, "Putting them away and getting them back out, I'd rather blow them up," Gwyn grinned beside him,
"Plus you'd go out with a bang," Maddy gestured towards his mate,
"There's someone with taste." She winked at Gwyn, "You ever want his job, I'll organize a coup."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Azriel murmured as Gwyn cackled with laughter, good gods, what had he started by introducing them all that time ago? "I should never have involved you, Mads."
"You'd miss me, Spymaster,"
"Perhaps I should inform Josie of your poor life choices." Maddy's gaze shot to him,
"Do not bring her into this, she'll overreact." Maddy grumbled, shooting him a look of feigned annoyance. Azriel chuckled, somehow finding joy and light still, even after coming here to keep fighting a war,
"And force you to make better life choices?"
"Maybe," Maddy grumbled, "She worries,"
"She has every right to," Azriel said as he started what was sure to be the very, very long process of sorting Maddy's mess into some semblance of an organised mess, "She's your wife, and, were your positions swapped, you would worry for her." Maddy conceded the point, and begrudgingly, and only at Gwyn's request, helped to categorize and sort the documents by type, importance, relevance to different issues, and author.
There was no denying it, not as he combed through what felt like endless documents, dissent among the humans, between the humans and Illyrian rebels, they very clearly didn't trust each other. That was something he could exploit, but not he main finding her, they'd known that already, what had caught his eye was the continuing mention of a birthright. Letters, all written by the same male to various powerful Illyrian commanders, it had set the warning bells ringing in his mind the first time he'd caught wind of this, but now, gods. His so-called brother was harboring what could only be described as imperial ambitions. He wanted not only their sire's camp, not only the power of a warlord, but a king, he wanted to rule all of Illyria, and was already making promises to his 'loyal generals' to achieve that end. It might be a reach to conclude that the whole rebellion was a cover-up, but perhaps it was the opportunity that encouraged him to make his move. He'd known that his brother wasn't a good male, that he was an asshole who deserved no more than a dagger in the heart, but this? It still hurt, it hurt that it was his own flesh and blood that was the greatest threat to his people, his true family, it hurt that the only family name he'd ever known was borne by the same male who wanted to sow terror and chaos throughout the Night Court. Perhaps that was it, the undeniable association, Azriel would always be the bastard son, the unwanted complication, but his mother had never known her family name, she hadn't been allowed to, leaving Azriel with only his, not his father, as far as he was concerned he had no father, but his sire's name was the only once he'd ever known, even if he'd never used it himself, it was still there, a taint.
He leaned against the table, brows furrowing as he pieced together the snippets of information, trying to figure out how it all fitted together. He vaguely registered Maddy speaking to Gwyn, barely registered Gwyn's hand creeping over his shoulders to rub reassuringly. All he could see was his brothers faces, grinning and laughing as he screamed in agony, all he could see was his mother's fear, see her pleading for his sire not to take him from her, all he could see was the male's fury as he realized that it was Azriel, and not his perfect, legitimate sons that had gained a coveted power. All he could see was the document that he'd burned, not showing it to anyone, the truth that he couldn't change, that the male had given Azriel his family name, unchangeable by Illyrian law, an attempt to stake his claim on Azriel, but not for his sake, for the shadows that now crowded in, blocking out the world, to the dark and safety of silence.
Maddy had fallen quiet when the shadows moved, but Gwyn murmured his name, told him she loved him and who he was had nothing to do with those who shared his blood. He could hardly register that it had taken he mere heartbeats to figure out the problem, he could only register her calming, steady touch, unwavering even in the face of the shadows, of his damn siphons starting to glow. Gwyn leaned into his side, and said something to Maddy, something so outrageously normal that Azriel wanted to laugh, and Maddy's reply, it lightened the room, the weight that had crashed down onto him. He lifted his hand from the table and curled it around Gwyn's waist, tugging her closer, needing that contact, the good touch to wipe away the bad ones.
"Thank you," he whispered, "Thank you."
"Let's figure out how to take this fucker down." He couldn't stifle the snort at Gwyn's words, at the curse, and she raised an eyebrow,
"You're still adorable when you curse," he admitted, and she rolled her eyes,
"You're weird,"
"You love it," Gwyn hummed a confirmation, and didn't leave his side, ensuring a part of her stayed in contact with a part of him until the sun dipped below the horizon, and the candles burned low, forcing them to finish for the day,
"We'll speak with him tomorrow," Azriel announced, "I have no doubt that," he paused, he'd not spoken either of their names for centuries, "That the younger brother will have picked up the slack left by our capture of Asshole Number One. I will contact you after, Maddy and we can go from there, sound good?" Maddy nodded, swallowing quickly before speaking,
"Are you gonna be alright? I can go if you don't want to," he paused to think, perhaps it would be easier, but the asshole would know, he would know that Azriel had been too cowardly to go himself, and he hated second-hand reports anyway,
"Thank you," he started, "But no, I'd prefer to hear with my own ears what he has to say, I will not ask anything of you that I will not do myself. Go home, see Josie, and keep your eyes and ears open, you'l hear from us soon, probably earlier from Gwyn if she decides she does want that coup." Gwyn chuckled, and wound her arms around his neck as he lifted her off the ground, preparing for take-off, "And Maddy? Make sure everything is hidden and secure before you leave." He ignored the way she flipped him off before launching into the sky.
The vampry who'd spoken stepped forwards, lips peeling back in a grin of feral delight, revealing the two sets of fangs. Something in Malik recoiled at the sight of them, but he bared his own fangs in response,
"Mine are bigger," he snarled, "Now back the fuck up,"
"Or what, princeling?"
"I don't think you want to know the 'or what' part," Malik spat, "Especially if you were involved with any of what was done to my brother,"
"I was. And I'd do it again, for just one drop of his blood, it's better than any fine aged whiskey, wouldn't you say?" There were murmurings of agreement, and Malik fought with every one of his instincts to contain his reaction to a slight tremor of rage, losing control was the last thing he needed right now.
"You're all dead motherfuckers," he announced as the first vampry lunged for him. Fangs bared, the sword at his hip still sheathed, the vampry was lost to bloodlust already, as if Malik's mere presence was enough. He sidestepped the charging vampry, pivoting to slam the heel of his palm into the bridge of another's nose, sending him stumbling back, hissing in pain.
"We can do this easy, prince, or hard, you're-" the vampry who'd spoken choked on his words, clawing at his throat, at the dagger now protruding from it.
"I choose hard," Malik sneered as he moved, short sword in hand as he plunged it into the chest of a female vampry who moved to intercept him. She burst into a shower of ash, but Malik had only one target, the vampry now crawling away on the floor, Malik's dagger still embedded in his throat. He yelped when Malik stomped down hard on his wrist, bone splintering under his foot. "I don't have nearly enough time for this, but I'm sure the Abyss will cover the rest of it." Malik slowly withdrew his dagger, with the vampry screaming and desperately trying to escape as he did so, and twisted it in his hand to bring it down hard on the vampry's chest.
He had no time to savor the victory as two pairs of hands clamped down on his arms, and more vamprys appeared from each corridor. There was no way out, not now, but he'd drawn their attention, all that noise had drawn all of their reinforcements, he could only pray now that Casteel had escaped, and that he never found out what Shea had done. He'd suffered enough, it would only hurt him, if Malik ever made it out, he'd keep Shea's secret, if only to protect his brother's heart, she'd done it for him after all, at least he hoped so.
Malik kicked at one of his attacker's knees, sending her tumbling to the floor, and twisted, taking the other's moment of distraction as his chance to roll sideways and retrieve his fallen sword. A flash of movement from behind caught his attention, and instinct guided his movements as Malik brought the sword up to deflect the blow, flicking the vampry's blade aside and feinting high before thrusting low. He caught the vampry in the stomach before flicking his wrist up until his blade found his enemy's heart, the ash hardly forming before another took his place, and another, and another. Malik dispatched each with ease, but he couldn't keep going forever, and the tide of vamprys was almost unending, he'd kill one only for two more to raise their blades. Still, on and on he fought, the air around him thick with the ash from his fallen enemies, filling his eyes to half-blind him as he kept fighting, kept swinging. He was tiring and half-blind, but still, the vamprys were no match for a well-trained warrior of Atlantia, which Malik most certainty was, his father's words ringing in his ears as he fought, knowing his old flaws would rise again as he tired.
Sword up, son, cover the left. Keep your momentum going with each movement.
Malik stepped right as he flicked his sword to deflect an attack from the left, his guard having indeed dropped to expose that side. He could hardly breathe now through the dust in the air, and his body betrayed him. The first cough was manageable, but then there was a second, and he was a heartbeat to slow to respond to the movement to his right. He'd stilled only for a moment and, true to form, he'd lost the momentum of his movements, and that delay in response was the final nail in the coffin. He grunted at the solid blow to his ribs, stumbling sideways, the sudden movement triggering another cough, but his next breath was more ash and dust than air, and he fell at the blow he'd never seen coming, his chest heaving as his breaths spiraled into a fit of coughs, his eyes streaming through the ash filling them. He struck out blindly, and weakly thanks to the coughing, but someone gripped his wrists and forced them behind his back.
No. No. Nononononono. Malik kicked out but someone else was there, pinning his feet down, another pressing his face into the cold, hard stone. He yelled in frustration as cool iron clicked into place around his wrists. He was roughly yanked to his feet, almost losing his balance as he was tugged backwards back down the corridor he'd come from with Shea and Cas. They had to be out by now, they had to be, had to be.
"Where's the other?" Someone demanded,
"Michael went for him, the rest of us came for this one, he seemed more trouble." Someone had gone after him, after Casteel. It was all for nothing. Malik started to shake, with anger or fear, he didn't know, perhaps both, but another voice made his heart stop dead,
"Michael? He's dead. No-one went with him?"
"No, the other was half-dead already, Michael alone should have been fine,"
"Clearly not, since he's gone, and Michael's dead, found him, along with that bitch who ran, no sign of the prince though." Casteel was gone, he'd gotten out, but Shea, Malik hoped she'd gone down to give him that chance, but somehow, somehow he doubted it, and his heart ached for his little brother again, but at least he'd be able to make his way home. A tinge of guilt struck him, he'd gotten Cas out, but he'd never see him again. Perhaps he'd condemned him to a life he'd hate, he'd condemned him to wear a crown after all. Malik's vision blurred further when someone struck the back of his head, hard, but not hard enough. Again, and he struggled to remain conscious, only catching snippets of conversation as he was dragged back through the tunnels,
"Just a sip,"
"I said no."
"The Queen said - blood of a king - one destined," Malik couldn't decipher what that meant before he did slip completely from consciousness.
When he woke it was to the sounds of a door being shoved open, and he kicked out again, one last-ditch attempt to get loose from his enemies. It was to no avail, and the only reward was a harsh blow from what must have been the flat of a blade at the base of his spine. The vamprys flanking him halted before a dais of some sort and Malik finally took in his surroundings, gods, they'd taken him right to the heart of Carsodonia itself. Queen Ileana smiled down at him from where she lounged on a throne, her false crown atop her head, riches bought from the blood of millions adorning her gown. Malik curled his lip in disgust when she rose from the throne,
"It is so good of you to join us, my dear prince," she trilled. "We have so much to talk about, so many lies to erase."
*****
They'd taken him not to a cell, but to a room in the castle. The windows were barred, but there was a bed, a bathroom adjacent, and a couple of chairs. Not that he'd be able to make use of them, not when the manacles around his wrists, still chained behind his back, were immediately chained to the wall beside the bed, forcing him to sit there. He glared at the vamprys who'd dragged him here, imaging all the different ways he would kill them for what they'd done to Casteel.
"I do hope this meets your expectations, Your Highness," the vampry drew out the title, making a mockery of it as he slammed the door in Malik's face.
He'd had nothing to do with his time but think about and pray for Casteel. He'd make it home, he had to, Malik had never found anyone more resourceful than his baby brother, all he needed was to be out of here and he'd find his way home, find himself, if anyone could, it was Cas. Still, it could only have been a few hours before the door opened and a woman slipped inside, confidently dismissing the guards outside. Interesting. She wasn't frightened of him, although he supposed, it would be impressive for him to kill her with his wrists chained to the wall behind him.
"Your Highness," she started, sincerity lacing her words, "I'm sorry this happened to you, to both of you," Malik narrowed his eyes, wary of any verbal traps, "My name is Millie, Ileana sent me to clean you up, she said your arrival was, how should I put it? Messy? Yes, your arrival was messy, and I see that she was right, so if you'd allow me, I'd like to help."
"To help? You can do that by unchaining me." Malik spat,
"I cannot," Millie insisted, "Only Ileana herself has those keys, you'll have to earn her trust before she'll consider it," that was the second time she'd forgone a title before Ileana's name, she was either a close confidant of the false Queen or an Atlantian sympathizer. Either way, there was no point in refusing, sitting covered in ash and his own blood was unpleasant, there was no way around that fact, so he nodded.
Millie perched beside him on the bed, setting a bowl of water beside her and dipping a cloth into it. Despite himself, Malik flinched when she tapped his shoulder, right where he'd been caught by a vampry's blade, the blood soaking through the cloth of his shirt.
"It'll be easier if you let me get rid of this," Malik narrowed his eyes before understanding, and he eyed her for a moment before nodding. "It's ruined, I'll have a new one sent up, same for those britches, but I'll ask you to keep them on for now." She quickly unbuttoned the shirt and cut it away to get it off his bound wrists.
The cloth was warm it touched his shoulder, but Malik didn't flinch again, and Millie's hands were gentle as she cleaned away the blood and ash covering him. She hesitated for a moment when she reached his face.
"Your eyes are really swollen, this, it might hurt a bit,"
"Get on with it then," Malik ground out,
"You know, you might be less rude. I'm trying to help you, Prince."
"I'm chained to a bed in the heart of my enemy's capital because a friend betrayed me, you'll forgive me if I'm pissed off."
"I will, but you could at least be civil to the one person who actually wants to help you," she whispered, as if afraid to be overheard, before slowly, carefully, cleaning the ash and dust out of his eyes. The warning was prudent, it did hurt, but Millie was careful not to hurt him if she could avoid it. "I'll be back with some fresh clothes, and hopefully orders for a more comfortable living arrangement." She made to open the door, but something in Malik demanded he speak,
"Millie?" She froze in place and looked over her shoulder, "Thank you."
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*****
Azriel's eyes cleared of sleepiness the moment Gwyn reached for the hem of her nightgown, and he sank back into the pillows as she pulled it up and over her head.
"What was it you said, Berdara? Something fun? Want to fill me in on the details?"
"Oh, it's on a need-to-know basis," Gwyn grinned as his whole body tensed when she tossed the nightgown aside. She leaned forward to place one hand on his chest, she couldn't have stopped him if he really wanted to rise, but he just raised an eyebrow and tossed a hand behind his head, the other slowly winding up the arm she'd braced beside his head. "And right now," she continued, slightly breathlessly, "You don't need to know, Shadowsinger," Azriel grinned, almost to himself,
"Then I must apologize, my lady, for not making the list," his calm facade only cracked based on the way the shadows were dancing around them, curling around Gwyn's waist, snaking down her arms, and twining into her hair. That calm was an act, and Gwyn's heart pounded at being the one to break down his walls, the one who made him look like, like he wanted to devour her, that he wanted to take his time and learn every inch of her skin. The heat in his gaze was infectious, filling her chest and pooling in her belly, a curling sensation low in her stomach guiding her. She wanted this, wanted him, and he wanted her, more than perhaps even she had previously realized. She blinked hard when she realized that she'd been staring at him, and tilted her head to the side to study him again, for once unable to read what he was planning. She shifted her weight off him, and crooked one finger to beckon him to sit up before straddling his lap.
Azriel wound a hand into her hair, the other brushing across her cheek,
"You're sure what you want?"
"Everything," she whispered, leaning into his touch, "I want everything, I want you." Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, and then his lips were on hers, and Gwyn melted into his touch, looping her arms around his neck as she opened for him, every part of her lighting on fire at his touch, his taste. She tightened her grip as the heat in her belly spread, setting her very blood on fire as Azriel's tongue met her own, claiming her mouth as he held her closer, every part of her pressing against him. She moved her hips against him experimentally, and it, it was different than before, with his pants still a barrier between them, but, gods, she could feel him, she could feel his arousal through his pants, and she rocked her hips again, moaning at the feel of the fabric against her sensitive skin. Azriel dropped a hand to her waist, guiding her movements, helping her find the way to move that was already starting to drive her crazy. She yanked on his hair, and he groaned as his head was pulled backwards, opening his eyes to meet Gwyn's. The fire in her blood was reflected in his gaze as he looked up at her. "Show me," she whispered.
Azriel kissed her jaw, beneath her ear, down her neck to her collarbone, and Gwyn's breath caught in her lungs as she panted, trying to form words, trying to say his name, a plea for more, anything, but words had failed her. She clung to him as he twisted sideways, gently pressing her to the mattress, her breath now coming in quick pants. She let her head fall back as he gently nudged her legs apart, sliding a knee upwards, the pressure brushing right against her clit as she writhed beneath him.
"Gwyn," he breathed, and she opened her eyes just to find him gazing down at her in awe before kissing beneath her jaw again, making her hips stutter against him, the pressure dragging yet another moan from her lips. She whimpered when he skated a hand up her side, stopping just shy of her breasts,
"Az," she breathed, "More, please,"
"Gods, you never have to beg, love," he gave her more, he really did, his kisses dropping lower and lower until he sucked a nipple into his mouth, a hand teasing the other one as he moved his knee back and forth. Pleasure sparked through her body, the tension in her belly tightening with each passing moment. She made to complain when he lifted his head from her breasts, but the complaint died before she could give it life at the sight of him kneeling on the floor beside the bed. He gripped her ankles, tugging her towards him so that her legs fell over his shoulders, and she crossed her ankles, careful to avoid his wings. The last thing she needed was to accidentally kick a wing now. With one hand on her belly holding her still, the other on her hip, Azriel, Gwyn could have mistaken him for a god. His eyes were burning with desire, his hair lightly tousled from sleep, his shirtless chest glorious in the dim light seeping through the curtains. He was totally unhurried as he lowered his head, and Gwyn's hips jerked against his hold as his mouth met her skin. She cried out wordlessly, hands fisting in the sheets when he sucked her clit into his mouth. There was no space left for anything other than the pleasure rippling through her, Azriel, gods, AzrielAzrielAzriel. There was no space left for anything other than him, his touch, his tongue, the way he'd been gently rubbing her hip the whole time, reminding her who was touching her, keeping her grounded. He knew, he knew how much it meant, Cauldron she loved him.
Gwyn screamed Azriel's name as the tension in her belly coiled tighter, and released with more force than she could have imagined when his tongue slipped inside her. Azriel loosened his grip, allowing her to buck her hips up into his face, working her through her climax, until she was panting, a languid warmth settling into her muscles as she pulled herself back together. Azriel was still rubbing her hips, murmuring something that she couldn't quite process, not with how thoroughly he'd wrecked every part of her. Still, she wanted more, wanted all of him, right now.
"Az," she reached out to tug on his hands, pulling him up and over her. She clung to his shoulders as he wrapped an arm around her waist to lift her up the bed, "I want you,"
"How? Tell me what you want,"
"I want you, I want you inside me, Az," he blinked slowly, almost in surprise, and cupped her cheek,
"Are you sure?" He scanned her face for any sign of fear, but Gwyn just grinned up at him, and then drew her bottom lip between her teeth,
"I'm ready for this, for you," she swore, and drew her legs apart. Azriel swore under his breath, fumbling as he reached for the ties of his pants, swearing again as his hands trembled slightly. Gwyn nudged him back and off the bed, "Let me," she murmured, sliding a hand up the back of his neck to kiss him again before swiftly untying the ties and allowing his pants to fall to his ankles.
"How do you want this?" Gwyn didn't answer verbally, instead she shifted backwards onto the bed, a smile lighting her face when Azriel followed her, curling a hand around the back of her head as she widened her thighs to let him settle between them,
"I want you like this," she whispered. "This way it's only you, only you and nothing else. It makes me feel safe," she explained, sliding her hands up over his shoulders, every inch of his skin feeling right against hers, like he was meant for her, and she for him. She supposed they were, but more than the bond, he was hers, she had chosen him and he had chosen her, before either of them had known that the bond was there.
Azriel kissed along her jaw, and Gwyn's breathing hitched almost imperceptibly when she felt him pressing against her. Azriel stilled, and she nodded, holding his gaze as he rocked against her, then pressed into her, only for a moment before withdrawing. She nodded again, and tipped her hips back,
"It's okay, Azzy," her eyes flickered closed as he pressed his lips to hers, the familiar sensation somehow building the unfamiliar one. He pushed forwards slowly, and withdrew, again and again, his lips roaming across her face, and then her jaw as he measured her reactions. Gwyn gripped his shoulders tight, moaning out his name when he finally pushed all the way in. He stilled inside her, giving her time to adjust to the feel of him inside her, and it wasn't anything like what she'd worried it might be, it was, it was overwhelming, but in the best way. She lifted her hips against his, and gasped when his pelvis brushed against her clit, pleasure lighting her blood aflame again. She lifted her head slightly to brush her lips against his, and closed her eyes, relaxing into his arms when he withdrew and thrust back into her. Slow, he was in no rush, wanting to discover the best ways to move to make her moan and gasp, the combination of touches at her breasts and inside her that made her writhe underneath him. Azriel held her gaze, and something in her chest hummed to life, her very soul singing to his as the bond between them drew taut. It was music, from her soul to his, melding together into a unique, beautiful melody, their very own song of souls.
That coil of pressure in her belly was back, tightening with every movement, every touch, every sound Azriel made as he moved inside her. He groaned her name, and swore under his breath before kissing her jaw again,
"Shit," he panted when Gwyn lifted her hips as he thrust into her, and she gasped at the way it pushed him even deeper inside her. "Gwyn," he panted, "I, gods,"
"It's okay," she managed, slipping a hand to grip his hair as he buried his face in her neck, his hips stuttering as he moaned her name over and over. Gwyn cried out at the feel of his release, and squealed when he dropped a hand to her clit, his fingers moving in the way he'd learned made her see stars. She clung to him for dear life as her own release tore through her, his name on her lips as she collapsed limp underneath him.
Azriel lifted his head to press his brow against hers, their breath mingling as they lay still, he was still inside her, she could feel him, but it was a closeness, not the fire of desire that she'd felt before. She sighed when he did pull out of her, rolling onto his back and pulling Gwyn onto his chest. He kissed her forehead, and held her close, neither of them moving for the gods knew how long.
Gwyn snuggled closer to his chest, her breathing evening out as she traced the patterns of the ink across Azriel's chest and shoulders.
"Are these words?" She murmured,
"Yeah, they're ancient runes, this spells out charms for skill and glory in battle, the one on my back though, I chose that one, it took me weeks to translate it, but it's a promise of loyalty and brotherhood to Cass and Rhys, theirs say the same, but neither had the patience when we were young to translate it themselves." He brushed a lock of hair behind her ear,
"Would I be allowed to have one, for you, for us?"
"Probably not according to Illyrian law, but if you want one, who cares? No-one will dare to try and stop you,"
"I'll need you to translate for me, I've never studied ancient Illyrian."
"Now you're rehashing old ground, it's been centuries," Azriel chuckled, "I doubt I could still read it properly,"
"Centuries is better than never, we'll do it together,"
"Do you know what you want?"
"Not really," she admitted, "I just know I want something for you, something permanent, like we are, maybe, I don't know maybe it sounds really cliché, but something like 'always and forever', because that's us." Azriel couldn't stop himself as she finished, cupping the back of her head to pull her in for a kiss.
"Always and forever," he murmured, his brow pressed to hers. Gwyn mumbled her agreement, then added, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she did,
"Especially if that's what the sex is like," Azriel chuckled softly, then tilted his head to the side,
"You okay? It wasn't, I don't know, too much or-"
"Azzy." Gwyn pursed her lips, "I love you. And I wanted this, I have done for a while, I was nervous, but never scared. You are my safe place, you make any place safe, and I've never felt like I did just now. I want that again, just like that, no mating 'frenzy' as you put it, but that, I want that again." Azriel cupped the back of her head, holding her against him,
"Thank you. For that trust, it, I don't think even you realize what that means, to be the one you trust above all others," she did, and again, she didn't, she didn't know what it was to think herself unworthy of everyone and everything and have that lie broken down by someone she loved. But what she did know was that he had gotten past her walls, they'd been built on fear and pain yes, but he'd helped her to start to lower them. Perhaps she'd always stay alert when strange males were nearby, especially in the dark, but with him, it had become just a little easier, and even when he wasn't by her side, he was the one who'd found her courage and shown her the way.
"I know that it's something you never thought you could earn," she whispered, "And it's something I never thought I could give, but here we are,"
"Here we are," he repeated. She didn't need any words after that, not until he carried her to the bath, and they took turns to wash each other's hair. She used her lavender shampoo, and Azriel complained that Cassian and Rhys would tease him about it, but he allowed it, and closed his eyes at her gentle, caring touch. Gwyn realized why he'd carried her when she stood out of the bath, and it didn't matter that she'd had time to recover, she was still slightly unsteady on her feet. She refused his help, but didn't miss the subtle, self-satisfied grin that he tried to hide.
She did, however, let him brush and braid her hair into a single braid from the side of her head, sweeping across her shoulder to fall over the other one.
"Let's go face the world," Gwyn said as Azriel extended a hand and she slipped hers into it.
True to Ash's promise, no-one had knocked on their door with one of the inevitable emergency tasks to be completed immediately, no-one had come to tell her that breakfast was ready, and it was almost noon when Sera finally opened her eyes. She sighed at the feel of the warm chest beneath her cheek. She smiled at the welcome weight of the arm over her waist, holding her close. Ash's heart beat loud and strong under her ear and she took a moment just to listen to it, to the way her own had matched it, their hearts quite literally beating as one, as some poet had once claimed that lovers did. Once, she might have dismissed it as a ridiculous romantic notion, but now she saw the truth in those words, the necessity of such emotions, a luxury she had never expected to be allowed, but one she couldn't now live without. She closed her eyes again and snuggled closer to Ash, grinning to herself as his arm reflexively tightened around her, as if he couldn't bear for there to be any space between them, even in sleep.
She never wanted to leave this bed, not when Ash was here, not when she had no worries racing through her mind, and not when she'd managed a whole night of sleep without being woken by the boys. She grinned to herself at the thought of Nektas babysitting them, at the way he'd likely enlist Jadis to help him since even a draken would struggle to calm both of them at the same time. They would look like Ash, she knew it, had known it from the moment they'd been born, their reddish hair the same tone that shone through Ash's in the sunlight, even with the differing shades, that color came from him. Their eyes were shaped like his, although the color came more from her, not pure silver as a primal's were, but the eather already coursing through their veins was visible nonetheless. Sera smiled to herself at the memory of Ash counting the freckles across Ires' nose and cheeks, nineteen, and the few, barely visible ones across Malec's, five. She shifted slowly to look up at her husband's face, the smile growing to a grin. In sleep, she could hardly have believed he was a primal, let alone the Primal of Death, he was just a man, he was just hers.
Ash blinked his eyes open, sleep still clouding them when Sera grinned again,
"Hi, sleepyhead," she laughed, her smile growing when he reached up with his free hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear,
"Hi," he smiled then, truly smiled, and Sera's breath caught in her lungs at the sight of it, it had been far too long since she'd woken up with him, really woken up in his arms, let alone seen that sleepy smile in the mornings. "Have you been awake long?"
"A few minutes. I didn't want to wake you,"
"You just wanted to stare at me while I slept?"
"That's not what I was doing!" She protested, but folded at his raised eyebrow, "Okay, I kind of was, but I haven't seen you so calm in weeks, can you blame me?" He grinned again, then laughed,
"Oh, I couldn't possibly fault you for finding any excuse to stare longingly at me," he teased, and Sera smacked his shoulder, hard enough that he feigned hurt, enacting a rather accurate impression of a dead body, at least until Sera started her half-hearted performance of grief, clapping a hand over her mouth and flopping to the mattress hard enough that Ash threw out a hand to keep from toppling off the edge of the mattress, "Cruel, Liessa," he crooned, and rolled out of bed, scooping her into his arms as he stood. A part of her automatically went to wriggle away, but the other, more insistent part, took control, and she relaxed into his hold, looping her arms around his neck, and letting out a deep sigh of contentment,
"I missed you," she murmured as he finally set her down onto a chaise before rifling through the wardrobe,
"I know, I'm sorry." Ash tipped up her chin to catch her lips in a brief kiss before murmuring, "You know I love you, and I hate leaving you, even if I know you're not alone, I just, I don't like it,"
"It's not like you're leaving me behind because you want to, some things are unavoidable, besides, I don't want to leave the boys for long yet, I'm not upset, I just missed you, and I'm glad I get you all to myself for a day," Ash shot her a feral grin from where he'd dropped to his knees before her, lifting her arms to tug a shirt over her head, and slowly lacing up the bodice over the top of it. He took his time with the laces, never once taking his eyes off Sera's, pinning her to the spot with his gaze alone, and she almost swore when he stood to retrieve a pair of tights, just about restraining herself, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of seeing her reaction.
"I believe someone was promised a picnic lunch," Ash grinned as he slipped a jacket on, retrieving Sera's as he moved to open the door. She hummed as he wrapped the jacket around her shoulders, rising onto her tiptoes to brush a kiss to his cheek before ducking under his arm and out into the corridor. Still, she made no move to escape when he followed her, catching a hold of her hand and leading her away from their rooms.
Sera shot a look over her shoulder, at the second door, the door behind which their baby sons had been sleeping. They wouldn't still be there now, but half of her wanted to go and look, to check on them before leaving. Ash seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts and he squeezed her hand,
"Nektas used to like to taking Jadis for a walk in the gardens when she was small, you want to go and see before we go?" Sera nodded, her mind preoccupied, it wasn't that she didn't trust Nektas, besides Ash he was the one she trusted most, but not seeing her children every morning felt wrong and she needed to see them.
Nektas was indeed in the gardens when they found him, humming as he walked, a child in each arm, swaying slightly to keep them settled. He smiled when he rounded a corner, catching sight of Sera and Ash making their way towards him,
"Look," he murmured, "Momma and Papa have come to see you," Sera chuckled to herself at the sight of the draken talking to her boys, he just, he looked so normal, almost human.
"Leave your brother alone," she laughed when Malec tried to reach out, his hands snagging in Ires' blanket as Nektas handed them both over, "Momma's here baby, see," Malec's eyes were wide as he stared at her, perhaps moments away from proving just how loud he could be when he was upset. Sera scooped him into her other arm before he could complain, rocking from side to side until twin giggles floated through the air. She glanced over her shoulder, finding Ash staring straight at her, his eyes practically glowing as a grin spread across his face. "What?" Sera demanded,
"I love you," he said, stepping forwards to brush his lips across her cheek as he grinned down at their sons in her arms, laughing as Ires reached out to grip his finger, but hiccuped and almost shook himself out of Sera's arms. "They're perfect," he murmured, "So are you," that whisper in her ear shifted Sera's thoughts far away from the babes in her arms and towards much more interesting places. She lightly elbowed Ash in the ribs, laughing as he feigned hurt, earning a giggle from Ires as he stumbled.
"Are you sure you'll be okay all day? We can come back after lunch if you need-" Sera started to ask, but Nektas raised an eyebrow,
"I'll be fine, at least these two don't set anything on fire, go Sera, you both need a day off, go and have one, and don't worry about us, we're going to have a great time, aren't we boys?" Both boys' gazes had locked onto the draken from the moment he started talking, so much that they hardly noticed when Sera handed them over, go, Nektas mouthed, before they notice you're gone, Sera shook her head as she tiptoed back, Ash on her heels, and stifled a giggle until they'd slipped back inside before letting it out.
"Poor Nektas," she laughed, her heart racing as Ash curled a hand under her chin from behind, tugging her head back so that he could kiss her, as if he'd been waiting to do just that. Sera closed her eyes, melting into his hold, his warmth. "What was that for?" She chuckled when he released her mouth, spinning her round in his arms so that they were face to face,
"Do I need a reason?"
"I guess not,"
"You laughed, it's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard, and every time I see you with the boys I want to kiss you, but I know you'd never let me kiss you properly in front of them,"
"Right you are," Sera laughed again, "But no-one's here now," Ash flashed her a cocky smirk, his gaze fixing her to the spot as he wound a hand into her hair, tugging her head back as he really kissed her, all thoughts flying from her head the moment his lips met hers. She opened for him at once, moaning softly into his mouth at the way he tugged her against him, an arm tight around her waist, supporting her weight as he practically devoured him. She might have dragged him straight back to the bedchamber they'd just left, but a door swung open,
"Oh Fates," Sera laughed at the voice as Ash released her, only to tug her closer, shooting a death glare over his shoulder at Saion, who was blinking furiously, "Never gonna unsee that,"
"Oh really?" Sera teased, "So easily scandalized," she chuckled, "You must be downright boring,"
"Just rather not see you two five seconds from tearing your clothes off is all," he winked as Ash continued to glare, at least until Sera wriggled out of his grip,
"Kick his ass later, I was promised a picnic, and I'm getting hungry."
*****
It was a novel sight, seeing Odin laden not with the trappings of battle, but carrying baskets of food and a blanket. He didn't seem to mind, instead nudging Sera's hand for apples the whole time they were walking through what used to be the dying wood. It certainly wasn't dying anymore, vibrant green leaves brushed past Sera's face, tangling in her hair as the horse nudged her side a bit more insistently. She chuckled and shoved his nose away, grinning when Ash picked a blossom out of her hair, and Odin sulked at having lost her attention, snorting loudly and pinning his ears back,
"Awwww," Sera crooned, "Is the spoiled brat throwing a tantrum?"
"If he's spoiled, it's only because of you," Ash teased, clearly pretending not to notice the apple she subtly fed to the horse behind her back. There was something special about Ash's horse, beyond his size and the magic around him, a sort of intelligence that always made her wonder if there was some other magic about Primals' horses. From what she could tell, Setti had been the same when Attes had visited a few months ago, but she'd been weeks from giving birth, perhaps she was imagining things. Still, Odin took the hint the moment his saddlebags had been unloaded and the saddle and halter set aside. He tossed his head once, almost in a farewell, a yell if you need me, sort of look as he trotted through the trees to a small clearing rich with grass and a few low hanging apples. "Does one need hooves to get any attention these days?" Sera jumped at the sound of her husband's voice from behind her, but she sighed and leaned back into him as he curled an arm around her waist,
"Is he more intelligent than normal horses?"
"What?" Ash tugged her back to where he'd set out the picnic blanket, pulling her down into his lap, "I suppose he is, I never really thought about it,"
"He seems to understand things other horses don't,"
"Like when he's a third wheel?" Ash's voice was velvety soft, a slightly deeper tone than usual as he grinned,
"Among other things," Sera leaned sideways to reach into one of the baskets Ash had arranged to be packed, knowing full well that, with the way she was practically lying across him, her ass was right in his lap. Still, she squeaked in surprise when he lightly smacked it, "Pervert," she hissed, earning a deep chuckle, even as he grabbed the mini quiche she's been reaching for, "Hey," she complained, huffing in annoyance when he gently leaned on her lower back to keep her still,
"These are good, you should try one,"
"I was!" She complained, "Get off, asshole,"
"Oh, I couldn't do that, I'd be putting myself at risk of being stabbed, again, and I quite like being able to see your ass," oh she was so going to stab him if he didn't let her up in the next ten seconds,
"I only stabbed you once," she muttered, "And you deserved it,"
"For?"
"Sneaking up on me! We've been over this,"
"Still, you wouldn't have been caught off guard if you'd checked the house first," Sera groaned, and pushed herself up when Ash moved to lean back, finally handing her one of the quiches he'd stolen moments earlier, abating the urge to indeed stab him, lightly, affectionately. Fates, there was something wrong with both of them. She glared at him for another moment, but allowed him to pull her into his side, closing her eyes to just take in the peace around them, the feel of his arm around her shoulder, her side pressed against his, his chest under her cheek. A bird sang in the distance, and a brook bubbled nearby, no bustling streets, no complaints to handle, no visiting gods or Primals, nothing and no-one but her and Ash. Fates, she could spend every day for the rest of forever like this, with no-one to bother them but the wind and trees. Ash wound a hand into her hair, twirling the different strands around his fingers,
"Want me to teach you to braid it? Since you're so fascinated by it,"
"I wouldn't know how to start," he admitted,
"C'mon," Sera laughed, sitting up and snorting a laugh at the way his brows furrowed and he pointedly glanced down at the space she'd occupied a moment ago,
"I'll be cold now, come back here and cuddle me,"
"Old men and their damn needs," she teased, "C'mere," she pulled him up to sit beside her, and divided her hair in half, one to show him what to do, and the other for him to practice on. It was more difficult than she'd anticipated, with a string of curses falling from Ash's lips each time he dropped the braid or it twisted round or he forgot which strand he needed to move. Sera giggled to herself at each curse, starting her demonstration again and again and again, until he'd finally gotten the hang of it. She was still giggling to herself when Ash turned her round to face away from him as he pulled her hair into two braids along the sides of her head, and combined them into one long braid falling down her back.
He was practically bouncing with delight when he finished, and Sera grinned, caving to the uncontrollable urge to kiss that cocky grin off his face, ending up first in his lap, her hands fisted in his hair as he devoured her, then flat on her back on the ground, clinging to Ash's shoulders as he kissed along her jaw and down her neck, she chanted his name over and over, and he caught her head as she tossed it back, stopping it from hitting the ground,
"Don't ruin my hard work," he warned,
"Or what?" She asked, a bit breathlessly,
"Or I'll have to punish you,"
"Yeah? Good luck with that,"
"That's how it's gonna be then? You'll be singing a different tune later, Liessa, with my tongue and fingers and cock between your legs, or have you miraculously stopped needing me?"
"Don't need you," Sera ground out, desperate to keep her voice steady as he slid a knee up between her thighs, rubbing right against the most sensitive part of her, "Ash," she gasped, and he hummed,
"Don't need me? Happy to wait for later, for a proper bedchamber?"
"No," she whined, tugging at his shirt, "Ash,"
"Well?"
"Please," she whimpered, "Need you, please, Ash, pleasepleaseplease," Ash chuckled at the desperation in Sera's voice,
"I'm not sure you deserve it after all that,"
"No, please,"
"Gonna behave?" Sera nodded, "Be a good girl for me?"
"Yes, yes, just please,"
"Good girl," he crooned, slipping her tights off, followed by the bodice and shirt, her moans filling the air around them as he showed her exactly how much she needed him, and how much he needed her.
Sera lost track of time, lying on the blanket next to Ash, his voice in her ears, talking about everything from Jadis' latest adventures to what Sera was going to say to Ezra when she saw her and Marisol. Sera must have fallen asleep at some point, because Ash was carrying her through the trees when she woke, Odin nibbling at his pockets for treats. It wasn't just her that spoiled the horse, even if Ash thought she never noticed, she saw the extra apples he slipped Odin, he was worse than she was, stealing sugar cubes from the kitchen just to feed them to the horse. She twisted out of his grip, but her chest warmed when he slipped her hand into his, curling his fingers around hers as they walked side by side back to Lethe, and the dinner reservation he'd made. She'd needed this, this day, this time to have him all to herself, and to escape the stress of being Consort, and Primal of Life, even if the world couldn't know that just yet. Sera squeezed Ash's fingers gently,
"What?" He asked, squeezing back,
"Nothing, well not nothing, it's just, I love you," Ash leaned over to kiss her temple,
Hi lovely! I hope you’re doing great!!! I’ve got a great idea for a Nessian fic but I’m shit at writing so I thought maybe you (being the amazing writer that you are) could make use of it:
It’s a Modern AU where Cassian is a really experienced Dom and Nesta isn’t new to the BDSM world but she’s a pretty inexperienced Sub. And well they meet and after a couple dates they hook up and Cass is soft with her but still acts like a Dom and Nesta loves it.
That’s the idea I had but feel free to make any changes you want and please make it as smutty as you possibly can. Thank u so much lovely 💕
I'm flattered that you thought of me out of all the talented nessian writers out there! I love that idea, I've not done any modern AU before, but I'll totally give it a go (once I've gotten through a long list of stuff), but this one sounds like fun so I'll definitely get to it!
ACOSF Spoilers! Do Not read this unless you have finished ACOSF and the Azriel bonus chapter*
Masterlist with all previous chapters
*****
It was two days until Madja deemed her ribs healed and finally let Gwyn off bed rest, Azriel followed a few days later, under strict instructions that he was not, under any circumstances, to overexert himself. He'd looked a moment away from rushing into the training ring to join Cassian and Rhys in doing just that when Theia found them. Gwyn noticed her first, stifling a laugh at the angle of Theia's head, the knowing look in her eyes, that mother's instinct that her son was about to do something stupid.
"Azzy!" Azriel froze at the sound of his mother's voice, "I know you're not about to disobey Madja's orders," she swept across the room towards him, managing to summon that kernel of fear that only a mother's ire could by the time she'd taken two paces, and Gwyn lost the loose control she'd been maintaining, letting out a howl of laughter, which earned her a scowl from her, gods from her fiancé. Theia turned to Gwyn when she reached them, "It's great to see you up and getting back to it, Gwyn dear,"
"Mom!" Azriel complained, but halted his complaints at the harsh look his mother shot him,
"I'll deal with you in a moment," she smiled as she looped her arm through Gwyn's, shaking her head silently, "Stupid boy's gong to get himself hurt,"
"I'll look out for him," Gwyn promised,
"I know you will, dear, call it a mother's instinct to worry, and my experience with him,"
"You mean the way he doesn't understand how to rest after five centuries of time to figure it out? Oh, I know," Theia clasped Gwyn's hands in hers, turning to face her fully,
"I did come here for a reason, not just to check on Azzy," she shot a glance over her shoulder, to where Azriel was, reluctantly, working his way through a series of only light, easy exercises to test how his body was recovering. "A little bird told me that Azzy asked you a rather important question," she left the words hanging between them, and heat flooded Gwyn's face,
"He, yeah he did, I didn't realize you knew, we were going to tell you later, once we'd had a little bit or normalcy first,"
"I wouldn't have known, had it not been for Rhys' excited chattering about it almost all night, poor Feyre must have had to shield her ears to get any sleep. I got an earful just walking past their room to get to mine." Gwyn chuckled at the thought, remembering just how excited Azriel's brothers, both of them, had been, with Cassian barely managing to resist tackling Azriel in once of his typical bear hugs. Rhys had been more reserved, but was still practically bouncing with joy when Azriel had brought up the mention of ring shopping.
"They're idiots," Gwyn laughed and all three Illyrian males looked in their direction at the sound, an assessing stare, the one she'd seen when they fought, testing to see if Theia was really mad, and if they were all still in trouble. "Misbehaving children aren't they?"
"Always will be," Theia tried to school her tone to sound long-suffering, but Gwyn caught on to the note of fondness, she'd never want them to change, would always see Azriel as her little boy, and the others as the two wild youngsters who'd practically adopted him. "Besides that, has he given you a ring?"
"No, he's only been up for a day, and we haven't had time, we were going to go tomorrow,"
"Good," Gwyn furrowed her brows in surprise, "If you'd like, it'd mean a lot to me if you wore the ring I never got to, it was my mother's engagement ring, and I would have worn it, but I never wanted to marry, and I don't think I ever will. I'd have liked to pass it to my daughter, and, well there you are." Tears pricked Gwyn's eyes at Theia's words, until they were slipping down her face, and Theia was wrapping her arms around her, "I've always wanted a daughter, and you are all I could have asked for,"
"Thank you," Gwyn managed, stepping back out of Theia's arms only to find herself in another pair of arms, Azriel's concerned face staring down at her,
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she smiled, "Your Mom, she, she offered me your grandmother's engagement ring to wear, and, well I barely even remember my own Mom, I guess it just felt like something she would do." Azriel brushed her tears away gently, taking something from his mother before she stepped away, heading towards Cassian and Rhys,
"You want to wear it?"
"Are you okay with me wearing it? An Illyrian ring?" Something shifted in his face, softened,
"All I care is that it's you wearing it, and, I think I like the thought of you wearing something from my family, even if I'd forgotten we had it, it's not an heirloom exactly, but it's the only link I have to the rest of my family, I'd love for you to wear it, forever." Gwyn nodded, her heart racing as Azriel slowly slid the ring onto her finger, a perfect fit. She studied it in the the morning light shining through the window, one stone in the center, she would have thought it a diamond if not for the black veins through the stone, through the other smaller stones set in a ring around the larger one, "Illyrian diamonds, rarer than a winter rose, and just as beautiful, they're perfect for you."
Gwyn wasn't sure what she was thinking, if she was thinking at all, but she didn't hesitate as she wrapped her arms around his neck, hauling him down to press her lips to his, not caring who was watching.
"I love you," she whispered against his lips, his breath mingling with hers as he cupped her cheek, their eyes meeting for a moment before their lips met again and Gwyn's eyes fluttered shut against the slow, unhurried way Azriel was kissing her, one hand at the small of her back, the other tipping her head back to deepen the kiss, tasting her, claiming her in a way she'd never realized she wanted, in the way that he was declaring himself hers, as much as claiming her as his. She kissed him back with as much vigor as she could, until they were both gasping for breath when they separated,
"Get a room!" Cassian laughed, howling louder when Azriel flipped him off, and Gwyn stuck her tongue out at him,
"Three words:" Gwyn started, raising an eyebrow at Cassian, "You. Nesta. Kitchen." She counted each word off on her fingers and Cassian rolled his eyes,
"Piss off," he muttered and yelped when Theia cuffed him over the head,
"Language," she chided, earning a swift apology, and a barely-hidden laugh from Azriel that Gwyn was sure only she could hear, and it was beautiful.
*****
Nesta had squealed with delight when Gwyn had shown her and Emerie the ring, demanding all of Gwyn's afternoon to talk about it, with Emerie gunning for all the details of their relationship, all of them. Gwyn had shut her down twice, heat already flooding her face at the thought of what she and Azriel had briefly discussed when he'd asked her to marry him, the thoughts she'd only admit to herself that she sometimes had late at night, curled up in his arms. She'd never felt so normal, not for a long while, with her friends laughing with her, her fiancé playing with his nephew across the room, the rest of their friends there, just taking the time to be together, for all of one of two days before they were forced to face the problems that had only been building recently. One day, two, then she could think about it, but not yet.
She laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder as Azriel approached, Nyx in his arms, the child already reaching out for her, and grasping her hair in his chubby little hands even with her attempts to get it out of the way,
"He wanted to come see Auntie Gywnnie," Azriel teased, and she poked him with her free hand before looking down to the child he'd handed to her, making a face to earn a giggle of delight, even more so when she tickled his belly. She glanced up to find Azriel grinning, with Nesta raising one eyebrow at him, "Don't get any ideas," he shook his head at her, "We're not even married, and we're at war,"
"Yeah," Gwyn laughed, "One day, but what about you and Cass? You can't tease us and get off scot-free,"
"Like you said, we're at war," Nesta deflected, and Gwyn grinned, sharing a glance with Emerie,
"There'll be more bouncing babies soon, Em, just look," Gwyn handed Nyx to Nesta, who started to refuse, but absolutely melted at the look her nephew gave her, and she cooed softly to him,
"Shut up," she whispered, well aware that she'd lost the upper hand. Gwyn shared a knowing look with Emerie, groaning when her friend reached over to tap Nesta's symphonia, music filling the air as she pulled Gwyn to her feet,
"Dance with me,"
"I've got a better idea" Gwyn whispered, and before Emerie could draw breath to ask her what she meant, she spoke a little louder, "I've eaten far too much for your brand of dancing, Em." She made show of glancing over her shoulder, "Mor, you like dancing, right? Wanna take over?"
"What're you doing?" Emerie hissed, but Gwyn just winked, placing Emerie's hand in Mor's and chuckling to herself at the pink staining Emerie's cheeks. Mor was staring at her friend as if she's never seen something so beautiful, her gaze never once leaving Emerie's face as she started to move with the music.
Gwyn kept half an eye on Emerie and Mor as dinner gave way to wine, only losing track of them to talk to Rhys, teasing him about his reaction to Theia that morning. When she looked back, both females were gone, and she couldn't see either of them anywhere. She grinned to herself, making a mental note to tease Emerie in the morning.
*****
It all felt so normal, watching Gwyn with her friends, dancing briefly before she made him sit back down, sitting right in his lap to make sure he stayed there. Azriel had tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, kissing her cheek, half because he could, half because he'd thought that he wouldn't get the chance to do it again just a few days ago.
She'd taken note when Mor had slipped off with Emerie, smiling to herself more than Rhys' shitty joke deserved,
"You're meddling," he teased,
"They've been dancing around each other for ages, they just need a little push since apparently even with Em occasionally spending the night, they've still not taken even the first step."
"Maybe they're not ready to, it's different for them, Em hasn't said anything to me at least, and I don't think Mor knows that I've realized she likes females, the others don't know,"
"Spymastering again?"
"Hey, it's my job to notice things, it's not like I was snooping or something,"
"I know" Gwyn laughed, leaning into him a little, her warmth the only comfort he could ever need. He lost track of time, taking turns to keep Nyx occupied until Feyre spirited him away to put him to sleep, the room filling with laughter as the wine started to flow more freely once Nyx was asleep. Gwyn had untied her hair from the braid it had been in all day, and Azriel found himself fascinated with the way it fell around her shoulders, the way the light flickered through it, changing the colors slightly as she moved. Completely unbidden, his shadows started to weave through her hair, enhancing the movement as she danced with Feyre, then Cassian, then Nesta, a goddess given flesh, that's what she was. She grinned, and laughed when Nesta lifted her into the air, before spinning away.
Azriel moved before his mind had really caught up with what was going on, stepping in front of Rhys to catch his mate's hand before his brother could. Rhys scowled behind him, and Azriel could have sworn that Nesta huffed a laugh, but everything around him failed the moment Gwyn's teal eyes lifted to his. Bright and bold, his breath caught at the way she slipped her hand into his, squeezing gently as he slid an arm around her waist.
He barely heard the music as he guided her forwards into a poor attempt at a waltz, she grinned,
"Azzy? You're taut as a bowstring, loosen up," was he? Maybe he was, but she couldn't blame him, his mate had been dancing with everyone else, and now that he had her, she'd floored him with one look. That was it, all it took was one look, and she'd ruined him for everyone else, not that he'd ever want anyone else again, had never wanted or needed anyone the way he needed her. He needed her, needed to know her heart, to learn everything about her, the type of binding she preferred on books, he favorite type of pancake, what she dreamed about, the future she wanted, he needed to learn every nuance, every slight tell, he wanted to map every part of her that she was willing to show him. He would wait however long it took for her to show him everything, and he would love each part as unconditionally as the whole.
"I love you," he whispered, and she smiled,
"Who'd have guessed you'd be an affectionate drunk, Az?" She teased before rising onto her tiptoes to kiss him, "And I love you too." She leaned her head against his chest as they circled the room again, her eyes drifting shut as she relaxed into him as Azriel relaxed into the tempo of the music, allowing it to guide his movements, slowing until they were just swaying almost on the spot as they slowly span round.
Unsurprisingly, Nesta and Cassian had disappeared, along with Feyre and Rhys at some point, leaving Azriel alone with Gwyn, given that Amren had slipped off a while ago as well. She blinked as she lifted her head,
"Why'd you stop?" She mumbled, her voice heavy and tired, and Azriel scooped her up into his arms,
"Because, love, you're just about asleep on your feet, and while I'm flattered at the idea of you falling at my feet, I'd much rather just get to bed," she narrowed her eyes, mumbling something else that sounded suspiciously like a denial, but snuggled into his chest when he adjusted his hold on her, her eyes falling closed the moment her head hit his shoulder.
Gwyn didn't wake when Azriel placed her down on the bed to change, or when he put her in a nightgown, only mumbling his name and clinging on to him, making it very difficult to pull back the covers to get her into bed. After several attempts and numerous muttered cruses, given that the shadows seemed content to watch and laugh at him, he managed to get Gwyn into bed, and slipped in beside her, his heart melting as she rolled over to him, gripping his shoulders as her head rested on his chest, one of her legs thrown over his. He brushed a hand through her hair, and kissed the top of her head before gently folding his wings around her as he slipped off to sleep, her scent and touch grounding him through the night so that he slept soundly, without the usual dreams following on from a battle.
Azriel woke more refreshed than he'd been in a long while, certainly since before Hybern, probably since before Amarantha too, and it was all because of her. Gwyn was already awake, tracing idly along the lines of his shoulder, down his arm, and along the ridges of his scars. She smiled broadly when he opened his eyes, and pressed her lips to his jaw, slowly working her way along his face before finding his lips with hers.
"You looked after me last night,"
"You were about to collapse in my arms," he teased, "I can see why, but I could hardly leave a fair lady in peril, could I?" Gwyn smacked his shoulder with false annoyance,
"You're lucky you're pretty," she huffed, and Azriel grinned, "It was nice, it, I don't know, it felt like a celebration of life, rather than letting myself dwell on what was lost,"
"That's what I think we all needed, we know there'll be more battles to come, but we still have to live, to celebrate when we can, that was last night."
"I can think of another way I'd like to celebrate," Gwyn murmured, her voice silky as she placed a hand on his chest to pin him down, "Something I think we'll both enjoy,"
"Oh? What's that, Berdara?" Azriel raised an eyebrow, and grinned when she leaned back down to kiss him again,
So I just finished HOSAB and I am going mad! Please someone message me and talk to me about this, my mind is about to explode and none of my real life friends have read CC, so someone, anyone, talk to me in the comments or message me about your thoughts/theories.
When Malik finds Casteel after years of searching, he almost makes it out, he would have done if not for Shea's betrayal, but he'd do anything for his baby brother, even allow himself to be captured by the Ascended.
*****
It was the fourth hour on the fifteenth day of searching when he finally found him. A dark, damp cell, hardly any space to move, absolutely reeking of blood and shit, and, oh gods, it reeked of fear, not the fear he'd picked up on countless times before, this was different, it wasn't just one of many emotions. This fear, it was all-consuming, the only thing the occupant of the cell had felt recently, perhaps for longer than Malik could bear to think about.
"Cas?" He whispered, fighting desperately to keep his voice steady, even his Atlantian eyesight failing to see in any more detail than a dark shape hunched against the back wall. No, not hunched, chained. He was going to be sick. The door was locked, and it wouldn't give, not when he shoved hard, and he couldn't risk the noise it would take to rip it off its hinges. "I'm coming back, Cas, I swear, ten minutes, I promise."
Every instinct screamed at him not to go, not to leave him there, because that was his little brother in there, chained, bleeding, scared, but he needed the set of lockpicks, and Shea had them. A quick check up and down the corridor revealed no guards, and more importantly, no Ascended shitbags. It took seven minutes to find Shea, her eyes wild with fear, but her gaze was steely as it fixed on Malik,
"You found him?"She whispered, and Malik nodded, holding out his hand. Shea knew what he wanted instinctively, fishing the lockpicks out of her pocket and handing them to him. Two minutes, two and a half, he could get back to Cas in that time, he could still keep his promise. He had to.
Two minutes and twenty-three seconds later, Malik was back outside the dingy cell, gripping the bars of the door so hard he was surprised they didn't break.
"I'm back, Cas," there was a risk in this, perhaps someone would hear his voice, and Shea shot him an alarmed look at the sound of his voice, but Cas needed it, surely the sound of his name, of his brother coming to fetch him would help with the panic that was sure to come when the door opened. Casteel had always hated confinement, and Malik could hardly imagine what was going on inside his head, fifty years, fifty years, Ileana and Jalara's days were numbered as it was, but if Casteel had been harmed, then Malik would rain hell down upon them, armies of Ascended or no. "Talk to him," he whispered to Shea, "Just, try to reach him,"
"Casteel?" Shea's voice was unsteady, as if she had no idea how to start, and she glanced down to where Malik was crouched in front of the door, lockpicks in hand,
"Anything, anything will do, just so he hears your voice," she nodded, but now she was shaking slightly, with fear, anticipation, Malik didn't know, but she did talk,
"We're going home, Casteel, I, I'm getting you out of here, just a little longer," each word was forced, but, like Malik, she'd been worried out of her mind, it was likely a struggle not to scream with rage. She paused to glance down, nudging Malik's side to get him to follow her gaze to the glow of torchlight from behind a door at the end of the corridor.
Shit. There was no way he was leaving, not now, and he gestured for Shea to keep an eye on it as he redoubled his efforts to get the damned door open.
The lock clicked, and the door swung inwards, revealing the nightmare that was the cell. Malik stepped into the tiny space and was forced to breathe through his mouth to overcome the stench that hit him at once. Blood, so much of it, but wrong, somehow it was wrong, it wasn't just Casteel's, it was, gods, he had no idea how many different individuals must have been in here, for one purpose. It was enough to make him sick to his stomach, the thought of his little brother being driven to almost madness, enough that he lost control, the people that had been here, Malik doubted they'd been alive for long. By the wall next to the door, a worrying smear of blood caught Malik's attention, as if someone had dragged a body away, and the blood, it was still red, smelled fresh, a week old maybe. He'd probably hate himself later, but he did let out a relieved sigh at the thought that maybe Casteel would have some control if, Malik stifled a gag, if he'd been fairly recently fed. One more step brought him to the middle of the cell, the closest he'd been to his brother in five decades.
A low snarl filled the air, and the shape moved, hardly, just enough that Malik could make him out. With his feet chained together, wrists chained to the wall behind him, he couldn't move at all. There was nothing of his brother in the eyes that met his, not at first,
"Cas, it's me, it's Malik, I'm getting you out, okay? I just need to get those chains off you, that okay?" He wasn't even sure that Casteel really understood, but with each step, the pure animalistic gleam in his eyes faded, and the black eventually gave way to a honey-gold color. Tears blurred his vision when Casteel saw him, really saw him, and his breath caught as he shook his head, not believing that Malik was really there at first,
"Mal?"
"Yeah, I got you, let's get home," gods, Malik hardly recognized his brother's voice, gravely and hoarse from lack of use, or from, or from screaming, but Malik refused to accept that, fifty years in a cage was bad enough, but fifty years of torture, no, not Casteel, not the little boy who'd run amok in Evaemon, not the prince who had never taken anything for himself, but had given everything for Atlantia. Casteel didn't deserve it, and Malik would make anyone who had hurt him suffer ten times over, a hundred times over. It wouldn't set it right, but, at least it was something. The shackles around Casteel's ankles were easy to remove, the ones on his wrists, not so much. Malik kept talking, telling him that they were going home, reminding his brother of the mischief that they'd gotten up to as young boys, he wasn't even sure what he was saying most of the time, just that he had to make sure that he kept talking, to help remind Casteel that he was safe now. The left shackle clicked open, followed by the right one, and Malik caught his brother as he toppled forwards, unable to support himself.
Slinging Casteel's arm over his shoulder, Malik refused to acknowledge the stronger scent of blood, the way the fear clung to Casteel's clothes and hair, his skin. Shea led the way down the corridor, keeping an eye out for guards or Ascended, and Malik followed, murmuring softly to Casteel the whole time, anything to keep him from slipping back into the void Malik had found him in. He'd need to feed as soon as they were out of here, but it was quite possible that only the constant reminder of who he was was keeping Casteel from trying to rip Malik's throat out, and that was a complication he didn't need.
Malik almost walked straight into Shea's back when she stopped abruptly, shaking hard now, shaking with fear.
"I'm sorry," she whispered as Malik stepped to her side, coming face to face with the Ascended who must have been waiting for them.
Shea reacted faster, shoving Malik to the side and dragging Casteel away, pulling him back down a corridor, back the way they'd come. A second route, she must have found another way out, all he had to do was give her the time to get Casteel out, and he could follow her.
"The second prince, as promised," Malik's stomach dropped. As promised. That apology. Shea. She must have led them here, given him up to save her own skin, and, gods he hoped to save Casteel as well. They'd never make it, not unless he drew all of the Ascended's attention, and he'd be damned if he'd let Casteel spend another heartbeat locked down her. There could be no quick, quiet fight and escape, if the Ascended knew they were here, they'd have the escape routes blocked, he'd have to make the fight as messy and costly as possible. For Cas, for his baby brother, Malik would go down, but he'd go down swinging.
