Azriel after Gwyn
This is my first time posting proper fanfiction EVER. Even though I'm not very active on this site I really really appreciate everything I'm able to read, see and feel. In this world of AI generated e-mails and lives (I've sadly become a part of it), this is my small rebellion, that no matter how hard things get - it's works of the heart and mind that'll get you through.
I'd also like to thank all the fanfiction writers who have made my miserable times a little more bearable. I hope you have all the things you ever dreamed about. This is more of a dedication to this world.
I'd appreciate any constructive criticism. I don't know what I plan to do after this but I hope this gives you the moment of peace that I envisioned it would.
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It’s in these quiet mornings that Azriel feels like he’s looking from the outside. A winged male whose deep breathing indicates the kind of sleep you only get after a night of peace and love. A redhead with a soft smile curled around this male. It’s a picture of peaceful mornings.
He’s surprised it’s so easy, so easy to fall asleep. So easy to spend a day in this bed and still feel like not leaving. Mostly he’s surprised that the love he’s been searching for all his life is right here, next to him. He’ll have to get up though. But she can sleep in and when she finally awakens his heart too will.
—
In the nights when sleep is close, she holds his hands and never lets go. He thinks it helps ground her when she has nightmares, but he still can’t believe something so horrendous can bring so much peace.
When she’s bored, she traces out the scars like she wishes she could undo the hurt. She traces it with reverence and awe, refusing to let him cover it -even if he tried. She’s always looking for reasons to hold it, touch it.
—
Azriel considered training to be a sacred place with strict regimes, the training ring was the place where resilience would be built, where he spent his sleepless nights all alone in the misery of his thoughts.
With her, it transforms. It’s an even more sacred place. He sees a lot of her smiles here, he likes the one she shows when she’s proved him wrong. But she’s never proved him wrong. He knows that she can do anything if she puts that fierce mind into it. But nevertheless he’ll rile her up, just for a glance of that smile.
—
Hating Illyria has been so easy for him. But coming here with her, when she sees only the good this place has to offer, he finds it harder. She sings the lullabies and all at once he loves these tunes that used to remind him of a harder time. She finds the gruelling winter so beautiful but he can’t seem to understand how anything is beautiful next to her.
She’s making snow angels. She’s holding the fallen snow with marvel and wonder. All of a sudden he can’t for the life of him understand why he hated this place.
She sees only improvements in this sorry excuse of a place. She’s helping them. He’s been around for centuries and she’s already done something he could never imagine for this place. He can do better and for her he should, only to be worthy of the love that she shows for every part of him. Even the parts he hates.
But after her, he realises, he has nothing he hates about his life or himself.
