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vulpes-fennec · 2 years ago

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Shadows Tell Me (If He Really Cares) (2/4)

Summary: For someone whose job title is “spymaster of the Night Court”, Azriel Shadowsinger is surprisingly oblivious to Gwyneth Berdara’s heavy-handed flirtation this Winter Solstice season (or is he?). What will it take for these bumbling fools to get together before the night ends? A mish-mash of Gwynriel holiday fluff (set post-ACOSF).

A gift for @shadowsxgwynriel via @acotargiftexchange!!

Notes: I made a Youtube playlist to go with this fic! Also, I don't live in a snowy place so the sledding scene might be a bit clunky, oops!

Read: Chapter 1 | AO3

❄One week before Solstice❄

“How are you not cold?” Gwyn was asking Cassian. It was the first snowfall of the year, and their little group had plans for a Velaris outing—Gwyn’s first winter visit to the city below. The House of the Wind was so far up that all one could see from the training ring was a flurry of snowflakes and a blanket of mist.

Cassian and Azriel both wore casual black pants and jackets, their crimson and cobalt Siphons glimmering in the morning light. The priestess herself was bundled up in a winter-appropriate pair of black pants, a thick teal coat, knitted teal hat, and creamy white scarf.

Our Valkyrie looks adorable today, Azriel’s shadows tittered in his ear. But she still looks cold. Go hold her hand, Azriel.

Enough, he scolded them. It’s her first proper visit to Velaris, so I don’t want to see shenanigans from ANY of you.

Shadowsinger is so stressed, the shadows snickered. He needs to relax around our priestess. They drifted over to Gwyn, who gave them a small smile as they sat on her shoulders.

“Did Nesta ever tell you how I lived a bastard’s life, before Rhys took me in? When you’ve had to survive Illyrian winters with only tattered clothes on your back, this is just a little breeze.” Cassian shrugged at the frigid winds whipping his hair while Gwyn shivered and stamped her feet.

Nesta appeared behind Gwyn, bundled up and rolling her eyes. “Just because you survived as a child doesn’t mean you won’t get sick in your old age. Gwyn, I hope you haven’t had anything to eat yet, because we��re stopping by my favorite bakery in Velaris.” Nesta jumped into Cassian’s arms, ready for flight.

“Aye, aye, captain.” Cassian gave them a salute before sailing into the mist.

“Ready?” Azriel asked, extending a scarred hand towards Gwyn.

“Ready,” she affirmed, stepping into his arms. It was not Azriel’s first time flying with Gwyn, but he savored every bit of it. Her quiet breathing against his ear. Her arms that tightened around his neck. Her scent of water lilies in the dead of winter. As Gwyn leaned against his chest to shield herself from the cold, Azriel prayed she didn’t feel how quickly his heart was beating.

Velaris had transformed into a winter wonderland. Personalized wreaths hung on doors, and garlands of holly and citrus criss-crossed the cobblestone streets. Soft white mounds of snow piled up in front of houses and blanketed roofs. The streets were bustling with cheery residents running errands and doing last minute Solstice shopping.

Gwyn let out a fascinated gasp as her boots crunched on the snow upon touching down. “I’ve never seen so much snow before. Sangravah was too close to the sea to experience snowfall,” she explained. The priestess picked up a clump of snow and held it up to her face.

“What are you doing?” Azriel asked, amused.

“Did you know that no two snowflakes are the same? But they’re too small for me to see.” She tossed the snow away and slushed through the fluffy material.

“It’s more clear when snow is falling down,” Azriel explained, following her. “When they’ve been on the ground for too long, they compress and can turn into ice.”

Gwyn’s teal eyes widened and she began walking gingerly, arms out for balance. Azriel laughed. “Don’t worry, Berdara. I don’t think there’s any ice on the streets right now”

“I think you just want to see me fall on my ass, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn retorted. “So I can’t make fun of you for what happened at Windhaven last week.” Fuck, she still remembers that. Azriel cringed inwardly at the embarrassing memory.

“Here. If you fall, I’ll catch you.” As he offered Gwyn the crook of his arm, a soft emotion flashed across the priestess’s face.

“Who knew the shadowsinger could possess such good manners?” Gwyn smiled as she looped her arm through his.

“I always have good manners around priestesses,” he responded.

Keeping up with the good manners, Azriel held the door open for Gwyn as they walked into a brightly lit bakery on the corner of the street. Scents of cinnamon, sugar, and pumpkin wafted through the warm air. And Gwyn’s face filled with wonder at the range of fresh-baked pastries displayed proudly on the front counter.

Azriel selected his usual order: a plain croissant with cheese. “This is to cover whatever she’s getting,” he whispered quietly to the attendant as he dropped a silver coin into her palm. The adolescent male nodded in confirmation.

If Azriel had to guess, Gwyn would go for the chocolate glazed doughnut. There were other chocolate pastries, but the doughnut was by far the biggest one. And he was correct. “I’ll have that one, please.” The priestess pointed to the doughnut and fished in her pockets for payment.

“Oh no,” the attendant said, handing her the pastry. “He already paid for you.” He nodded to Azriel, who was standing quietly off to the side.

“Oh! Thank you,” Gwyn smiled at him, sending flutters down to his belly. “I owe you one, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel smiled back. “Don’t worry about it, Gwyn. My treat.” The pair rejoined Nesta and Cassian, who were already waiting outside. Cassian was ripping into a huge loaf of bread, while Nesta was chowing down a large egg tart.

Gwyn eagerly bit into her buttery chocolate pastry, eyes fluttering. “Gods, it’s so good,” she sighed blissfully.

Cauldron boil me. The satisfaction and pleasure laced in Gwyn’s voice imprinted in Azriel’s mind, giving him unholy ideas. Ideas about what she would sound like soaking into a hot bath after a grueling training session. Or what she would sound like if he took his time pleasuring her.

Azriel feigned interest in a shop down the street, and began walking away quickly. Nyx’s vomit. Blaring music at Rita’s. Stinky bog water. Moldy cheese. Azriel imagined his least favorite things in the world in order to suppress his dirty thoughts.

Sure, sometimes he fantasized about kissing Gwyn’s soft lips. And cuddling her with his wings as she read a book. And maybe gently combing his hands through her silky red hair. But thinking about having Gwyn in his bed? Off limits, especially if she only viewed him as a good friend.

Azriel frowned. Wasn’t he supposed to be thinking of stinky cheese? Or was it moldy bog water?

Approximately four months ago, he and the priestess had been laying out in the training ring, chatting in the balmy summer night. One minute he was bantering with his friend, the next minute he was rendered speechless by the way she smiled at him.

After that, Azriel could no longer unsee how her teal eyes brightened at familiar constellations. How happy she was when she received new book deliveries. He thought endlessly about her beautiful voice, singing quietly whenever she thought she was alone.

He’d never been seized by such feelings before. Mor was his first love: he had loved her ever since she walked into Windhaven when they were just teenagers. But the innocence of first love had soured into obsession and overprotection, and finally, rejection. Elain Archeron was another female he desired greatly. But his hunger for the prettiest Archeron had abated ever since she returned the rose necklace last Solstice.

Azriel knew he should have nipped his feelings in the bud months ago, but it seemed like his affections for the priestess only grew by the day. It was getting harder to pretend, not just to others, but also to himself, that Gwyn was just a friend.

A shadow floated up to him. If she’s always on your mind, Azriel, why don’t you just try? You are a handsome male…she would undoubtedly be attracted to you.

Nope. Azriel gently pushed his shadow out of the way. Let’s not presume what the priestess wants. She can flirt all she wants, but she said very clearly last week that we are friends. Besides, our friendship will SHATTER if she knows I like her. We keep this a secret, alright?

❄

“Did you see that?” Nesta elbowed Gwyn sharply. “How does that make you feel?”

Gwyn glanced at Azriel walking ahead with Cassian. “I don’t feel weird about it,” she tried to say nonchalantly. “It’s just Az.”

Nesta scoffed. “Okay. Just Az. Getting turned on by you eating.”

Gwyn blushed, swatting at Nesta lightly. “Nesta, we are just friends. Now, before I go talk to him again, do I have any chocolate on my face?”

Now, Gwyn hadn’t seen many males in her 28 years of existence, but she had read plenty of romance books. And Azriel’s beauty put all of her favorite male characters to shame. But she knew she wasn’t the only one who fancied the Night Court’s spymaster. Several of the priestesses would giggle about their handsome trainer between the library stacks. And Gwyn had overheard Cassian and Nesta discussing how Elain Archeron, the most beautiful Archeron sister, had shown an odd interest in Azriel last year. Even though Elain was mated to another male.

At first, she’d brushed off the possibility that Azriel could see her as anything more than a student or a good friend. But his shadows’ friendly behavior and his excessive glances towards her over the last few months pointed towards…something else.

Gwyn started flirting with the shadowsinger several weeks ago with heated stares and teasing banter to test the waters. And Azriel’s flustered responses were promising.

But when Gwyn cranked up the heat by dishing out overt compliments and initiating physical contact, like hugs and small touches, nothing happened. She’d thought about giving up, that maybe the spymaster only thought of her as a good friend, but then Windhaven happened.

Emerie had whispered conspiratorially to her after the event: “Azriel was staring at you, Gwyn. I saw it all. He didn’t even see where he was going when he crashed into the table.” That gave Gwyn some hope.

She caught up to Azriel, whose shoulders looked strangely tense and his ears were numbingly red. His gloved hands were shoved deep into his pockets. Gwyn frowned. “Shadowsinger, the tips of your ears are practically frozen,” she tsked. “Hold on.”

She tip-toed to place her knitted hat squarely on his head, squashing his black hair across his forehead. Gwyn boldly brushed it out of his eyes, delighting at how nice his hair felt. Before the shadowsinger could object, Gwyn unraveled her teal scarf and quickly wound it around his neck and shoulders.

“It does feel nice,” Azriel admitted with a tentative smile. “Thank you.” A hint of red stole across his brown cheeks, and Gwyn hoped it wasn’t because of the cold.

A large city park emerged as they rounded the corner. Fae children and adults were playing in the snow, building snow sculptures, having snowball fights, and sledding down packed mounds. “How does everybody feel about sledding?” Cassian grinned and pointed to the massive hill up ahead. Only a few brave souls were spotted sliding down the white-powdered slope.

“Sure, but we don’t have sleds,” Nesta objected.

“We don’t need to bring our own. The city usually has sleds available for public use.”

“I’ve never gone sledding before, so I’m down!” chirped Gwyn.

“That’s the attitude I’m looking for! Let’s go!” Cassian and Gwyn led the way, trudging up the steep hill.

Gwyn was panting by the time they reached the top. The hill was no Ramiel mountain, but the multiple layers she was wearing made her sweat. “Couldn’t you and Azriel have flown us up here?” she complained.

“Just because we can doesn’t mean we want to,” Cassian replied. “Our wings get cold flapping around.” Gwyn rolled her eyes. These males are Illyrian babies indeed. Sure enough, there were several large sleds available for use at the top of the hill. “We take one sled each,” Cassian said, dragging the sleds over. “Ladies, use the ropes to steer the sled as you go down.”

The four friends sat in a line: Nesta with a black sled, Cassian with a red one, Gwyn with a green one, and Azriel with a blue one. “My shadows will give us a push,” Azriel declared. “Is everybody ready?”

At her affirmation, the little shadow gave Gwyn a solid push. She let out a loud whoop of excitement as she began to coast down the hill. Gwyn gripped the ropes tightly, too nervous to steer one way or another. Nesta was screaming at the top of her lungs somewhere behind her.

“Stop swerving, Nesta!” Cassian was shouting. Gwyn glanced back to see Nesta erratically making her way down the slope. Cassian swore, yanking his ropes when Nesta almost crashed into him.

Meanwhile, Azriel had artfully maneuvered his way towards Gwyn. She could sense him watching her intently, but she was too focused on the steep blanket of white before her to return his gaze. Brutal wind whipped her hair, but it was exhilarating, the way she coasted over soft snow and had a full view of Velaris before her.

Gwyn used both her feet to slow down sporadically, attempting to prolong the ride. Azriel sped past her, wings tucked in to streamline his journey. He reached the bottom first, going so far as to stand on the sled until it slowed to a stop. “Show off,” Gwyn muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Need a little help, priestess?” Azriel held out a hand when her sled ride concluded. He hauled her to her feet with a solid grip.

“Move, move, move!” Cassian was roaring. The Illyrian general was sliding down the hill at full speed with Nesta clinging to him like a monkey. Azriel and Gwyn scrambled to get out of the way.

“What happened to Nesta’s sled?” Azriel asked when Cassian and Nesta slowed to a stop next to them.

“I fell off and I think a child stole it,” Nesta grumbled. “Can’t we share a sled?” She gave Gwyn a pointed look.

“Yes, we should share a sled,” Cassian added his words loaded with meaning. He gave Gwyn a wink behind Azriel’s back. These busybodies, Gwyn rolled her eyes.

“Sleds are not meant to be shared,” Azriel chided responsibly. Cassian gave him an incredulous look. “What? I thought our plan was to go racing down the hill. And having two people on one sled wouldn’t work out.” The Night Court general sighed in exasperation.

“Racing?” Gwyn asked, perking up.

Azriel straightened at Gwyn’s interest. “Yes, racing. I’m the best out of Rhys and Cassian when it comes to snow sports.”

“Hmmm.” Gwyn raised an eyebrow skeptically at him. “Well, we shall see about that!” She grabbed her sled and began marching up the hill again.

“You?” Azriel chuckled, following her. “You just went down a hill the first time. I don’t think you’ll be beating me anytime soon.” Gwyn could’ve sworn she heard Cassian mutter “they’re hopeless fools” to his mate.

“Are you saying Cassian is the more worthy opponent?” she demanded, spinning around. Nesta threw her hands in the air behind Azriel, shaking her head.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. If we race, we race to win.” Challenge glittered in Azriel’s hazel eyes, but Gwyn could not take him seriously when he was wearing a fluffy hat and scarf. She simply snorted, and continued her trek.

Gwyn found a large stone on the ground and rubbed it on the wooden runners. “What are you doing?” Azriel asked, puzzled. He was standing close by, his breath clouding in the winter air.

“Smoothing this down so I go faster.”

Azriel’s brows wrinkled. “You’re supposed to use wax, not stone.”

“Okay, shadowsinger.” Gwyn rolled her eyes. “You won’t be saying that when I beat you to the bottom.” Azriel’s shadows swarmed her hands, trying to stop her from sanding down the wood. “Wow, really? You send your shadows to sabotage me?”

Azriel gave her an odd look. “I don’t control them when it comes to you.” He clambered onto his sled, with Cassian next to him. The general had gamely joined them, for Nesta had decided to play judge. “Alright little shadows. Give us a push.” Nothing happened. The shadows bobbed in the air anxiously.

“Whatever. We go on the count of three: one, two, three!” Gwyn shouted as she leaned forward, tipping the balance of the sled downhill.

Gwyn zipped over the snow, watching the world move past in a blur of white. Perhaps it was her imagination, but smoothing down the runners did make her go faster.

Smack! A small snowball hit her back. Gwyn glared at Azriel, who was several feet behind her and grinning wickedly. “Prick!” she yelled. Scooping up a snowball would only slow her down, so Gwyn gritted her teeth and leaned forward, gaining more speed.

Because she was smaller and lacked the drag of Illyrian wings, Gwyn was on the road to victory. She was about halfway down the hill when four Fae children on sleds zipped past her erratically. “Whoa!” Gwyn shouted as she swerved to avoid hitting them.

Doing so put her onto a well-trodden path of packed snow, which meant she went even faster. Any attempts to breathe were ripped away as she sped down the hill. Gwyn began to feel nervous at how quickly things were moving.

“Gwyn, watch out!” She heard Azriel shout. Gwyn’s sled suddenly coasted up a crest. Oh no, this is the ramp for skiing! The ramp ended abruptly, sending Gwyn shooting into the sky, airborne.

Pure fear made Gwyn’s stomach drop when she realized she was going to land on the ground. She screamed, flailing her arms as she sailed through the air. Do the roll! Do the roll! Remembering her training, Gwyn tucked her knees to her chest at the last moment, taking the brunt of the hit on her side. The snow was deep enough to cushion Gwyn’s fall, but it was definitely icy.

A solid figure slammed into her a split second later. Azriel.

Gwyn recognized the spymaster by his scent and the familiar feel of his body. The two of them rolled down the hill, with Azriel cradling her to his broad chest, his leathery wings shielding her from the snow.

“Shit! Gwyn, are you alright?” Azriel asked frantically when they came to a stop. Gwyn lay on top of his chest limply, listening to him breathe hard. She was still stunned by her fall, but this felt nice. Comfortable. “Oh, no. No, no, no, no.”

“Oh gods, I was too late.” Azriel’s voice broke as he ripped off his gloves to find her pulse. His equally agitated shadows moved Gwyn’s coppery hair out of her face. The little wisps dusted over her chilled cheeks, trying to wake her up.

“It’s okay,” she croaked, trying to sit up. “I remembered to do the roll.” Azriel and his shadows sagged with relief. The spymaster was lying in the snow, Illyrian wings splayed out behind him. He looks like a snow angel, Gwyn blinked, dazedly drinking in the sight of him below her.

“I’m so sorry.” Azriel’s hazel eyes were filled with anguish and guilt. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to race. I said I would catch you if you fell and I didn’t. I was too late.” The male was absolutely distraught.

There was no reason for Azriel to beat himself up like this over a fall. Especially when she was relatively unscathed. But the miserable expression on his handsome face told Gwyn all she needed to know.

Oh. He’s talking about Sangravah.

“Hey, hey,” Gwyn said soothingly. “I’m okay, Az. Hey! I need you to look me in the eyes and realize that none of it was your fault. It’s not your fault.”

Azriel nodded, trying to take deep breaths. “Alright. Alright.” The worry in his hazel eyes melted away as Gwyn clutched his shoulders, steadying him.

“I wanted to race just as much as you did. It’s okay, Az.”

“Gwyn! Gwyn!” She was aware of Nesta and Cassian running over to check up on her. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine!” Gwyn’s mouth twitched as she climbed off her friend. “I told you I was capable of going faster, didn’t I?”

“Mother’s tits, Berdara, don’t joke like this.” Azriel sighed as he attempted to check her for any injuries. “Don’t stand up too quickly! Can you move all your fingers? Your toes? Can you rotate your neck?”

“Az, I’m fine!”

Read: Chapter 3

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