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There'd Better Be a Mirrorball | Azriel x OFC [part one]

Summary: After living inside the library's relatively safe walls for over half a century, Eowyn, a (kind-of) priestess decides that perhaps Nesta Archeron's sign-up sheet for training is just what she needs to get herself out of her slump.

Word Count: 2180

Warnings: insinuating jokes, eventual description of abuse/wounds

Minors, do not interact

"Don't get emotional, that ain't like you

Yesterday's still leaking through the roof

But that's nothing new"

Arctic Monkeys, There'd Better Be a Mirrorball

It became routine, looking at that blank sheet of paper.

Every day, after service at dawn and a simple breakfast, Eowyn walked past Clotho’s office, bidding the High Priestess hello with a respectful nod as she made her way to her own station, only for her eyes to drift to the curious sheet of paper that one of the High Lady’s sisters, Nesta Archeron, had posted for all to see, inviting them to train with her and the Illyrian Cassian above the library.

Initially, the idea seemed absurd to Eowyn. Who in their right mind would sacrifice the comforts of the library with its endless tomes of knowledge and comforts to be subjected to the humiliation of physical exertion and pretend violence? But as the days went by, which soon turned into weeks and months, the idea began to grow on her. With the whispers that came to her in the wind, both from shared knowledge the priestesses engaged in— to not call it gossip outright— to the fluttering of whispers she could at times pick up around her, as soft and brief as the fluttering of a butterfly’s wing, she knew Velaris wasn’t the untouchable city their High Lord wished it could be.

And so, as she watched Gwyneth’s name appear one day, followed by the whispers of several other priestesses joining what soon grew to be a Valkyrie training ground, Eowyn decided she would be remiss not to take up the opportunity for another source of strength. While she had no intention of wielding her body into a weapon, nor envisioned herself going into battle any time soon, she knew the possibility of an attack wasn’t impossible. The voice in the back of her head constantly reminded her that if she had known how to defend herself then, she would not be under the patronage of the High Lord of the Night Court now.

And so she attended.

Eowyn was, in lack of better terms, an apathetic type of person. While not the quietest of the priestesses, as Eowyn had taken no vows of silence and was known to occasionally ask questions or make slight commentary to her companions, she was not entirely… understood. Those that attempted to speak with her, especially in her early days in the library, found that she wasn’t necessarily rude— quite the opposite, her manners were exceptional and she always spoke to her sisters with equal respect— but she wasn’t particularly friendly. All conversation starters were usually met with a wall of silent nothings, or short brief responses that left others feeling slightly chastised or embarrassed, but Eowyn never expressed any particular awkwardness or embarrassment on her end. She was simply… untouched. Both by the expectations of people for the manner she should act and their opinions when she didn’t follow them.

And while she was committed to attend training, had decided so and would not be deterred, it was the situation she had to undertake beforehand that proved to be the hardest feat. She simply had no idea how to go about it— was she supposed to ask Nesta or Gwyn if they were still accepting novices, or were their skills now too advanced for her to catch up? Did she need to wear any specific type of clothes? (Logically, she was aware that all warriors wore their respective skins to battle, such as the Illyrian leathers and the Gondolan armor, among others, but what exactly did one wear whilst still training?) And most importantly, did her face have to be uncovered at all times?

While Eowyn had done what many of her companions still dared not to do, albeit only a few counted times, those few times that Eowyn had left the library, she had made sure her face was covered to the outside world. Only those privy to the library were at risk of seeing her face, and yet she found herself almost always shrouded in her light Aspenian veil that allowed her to see her surroundings perfectly without giving way for anyone to see her.

Despite her reluctance to approach Gwyneth as she spoke to Nesta on the fourth floor of the library one afternoon, Eowyn found the interaction wasn’t terrible. A gleeful glint sparked Gwyn’s eyes as Eowyn softly inquired after their lessons, her eyes flitting from Gwyn’s excitement to Nesta’s slightly distant but no less smug approval. They explained she could wear anything she felt comfortable wearing, including her head coverings, but suggested something flexible she could sweat and move comfortably in.

And so she appeared at the top of the House of Wind, taking in the entourage of priestesses, Nesta, and another unfamiliar female by her side, before her eyes landed on the Illyrian males furthest from her, at the front of the ring as they conversed. Her entrance did not go unnoticed, much to her dismay, but the priestesses said nothing, merely nodding their hello as she walked by them and towards the enormous males.

She knew the city of Velaris was a safe haven to all welcomed to enter, but she also knew of the legends of these two specific Illyrians that had taken the city as their home— General Cassian, and the Shadowsinger, Azriel.

Cassian acknowledged her presence first.

“Welcome,” he spoke directly to her with a small comforting smile, “we’re always happy to have new people. I’m Cassian and this is Azriel.”

She inclined her head and opened her mouth to speak only to find words would not escape her. “This is Eowyn,” a voice of salvation called behind her. Eowyn didn’t need to look back to know who it was, as she came to her side. “She’s one of Clotho’s pupils,” Nesta supplied.

“Eowyn,” Cassian repeated, trying on her name, “it’s a pleasure. But it won’t always be so,” he added cheekily, before his face turned serious. “To train yourself, body and mind, is no gameplay. What we do here is hard work, it takes dedication and care, and it is not to be taken lightly. If you find the grueling work to be too much for you, don’t you worry, no one will think less of you if you change your mind. But if you decide to pull through and bear with us, you’ll find not just the strength of your body, but the discipline of mind of a warrior.”

All Eowyn could do was nod her head in response. Neither Illyrians seemed upset by her lack of verbal response.

“Alright then, here we go,” Cassian clapped his hands together, garnering the attention of all the priestesses who fell silent and immediately filed into practiced rows, leaving enough room for each to move around in. “Eowyn, you’ll be working with Az with that smaller group of priestesses on that side of the ring. Good thing for you, we had another two join us just a few days ago so you won’t be alone in your initial training.” Gone was the friendly, almost silly male that greeted her, turning into a no-nonsense General.

Eowyn followed after the silent Shadowsinger, but her eyes remained on the females, taking in their formation as the groups were divided in three, if it could be called groups, considering only three stood to the side with Cassian, and the rest of the females divided into a larger group and that of another two priestesses on the side, currently speaking lowly amongst each other, one of them swinging her arm in a circular motion, she immediately recognized them as Mirna and Desmodena.

“Good morning,” Azriel bid quietly to them, gesturing for Eowyn to take her place behind them. “We’re continuing our lesson on balance and breathing techniques…” he went on to explain what he expected of them by the end of their lesson, only acknowledging Eowyn at the end of his talk. “If you’re confused about anything or feel like you can’t keep up, don’t hesitate to ask for help.”

Better said than done. Eowyn knew she wasn’t perfect, knew she carried with her many flaws that even centuries of work had not disintegrated, yet one of her major flaws lingered, unable to let go: Eowyn was not a one to ask for help.

She listened intently to his explanation, mirroring his movements with complete focus and precision and took note of his adjustments, both for her and her companions, all verbal corrections with absolutely no physical contact. When they worked to his satisfaction, he gave them an approving nod and commanded them to repeat the same exercises twice more while he instructed the larger group of females.

By the end of the training session, Eowyn was sore and sweaty, half a mind cursing at the bright sun that glared above them, the other floating from conversation to conversation around her. “Well, what did you think?” A voice called from behind her as she took a sip of water from under her veil.

She turned to find Nesta watching her, Gwyn and the unfamiliar female close behind.

“It’s too hot,” Eowyn murmured in distaste before she could think better of it, clearing her throat when the unfamiliar female snickered and Gwyn grinned at her. Nesta merely raised an eyebrow. “I only leave the library during the colder seasons,” she found herself explaining needlessly. Nesta hadn’t asked about the weather, after all. “But this…” she gestured out to the diminishing crowd, “is good. Not as imposing as I expected.”

“Just you wait for the hand-to-hand training,” the female shook her head, “then you’ll see how imposing the most competitive of us can get,” she gave Nesta a sideways glance.

Nesta only rolled her eyes, “Cassian said I wouldn’t land a single blow. I couldn’t just let that slide.”

“And blow him you did,” the female grinned back immediately.

“Emerie!” Gwyn fell into a fit of giggles, and despite the amusement that kindled in Eowyn, the sudden rush of conversation and the approach of both Cassian and Azriel was too much for her.

Before she could excuse herself from them, however, Cassian grinned at her. “So… what did you think?”

“Fishing for compliments now, are you?” Nesta teased him, causing Gwyn to giggle at her side, her eyes lingering on the shadowsinger.

Eowyn smiled even though they couldn’t see her. Something tickled her ankle but she ignored it. “I can’t lie, I-I feel quite disgusting and sore,” she admitted, but when she saw Cassian’s face begin to fall, hastily added, “but it’s also kind of nice. I feel… I don’t know. Capable?”

“You are,” Azriel’s quiet voice spoke from beside her and she turned to him feeling herself startle slightly as she found him staring at her, right at her eyes as if he could see through the veil. Turning her head to see him was more inertia than necessity, she immediately recognized that shadowy voice. Dark, smooth, and icy cold. “You just need to learn to wield it.”

“I have no intentions of fighting,“ she declared immediately as something about his words struck her the wrong way. She shifted slightly, feeling that same tingling sensation scurry up her leg and this time she couldn’t help but look down, seeing the Spymaster’s amorphous shadows crawl up her side, wrapping around her as if trying to calm her.

She felt more than saw Azriel tense at her side as Cassian cleared his throat.

All at once the shadows rushed away from her, hiding behind their master as if repelled by her. Her frown deepened.

“That’s not what I meant,” the shadowsinger clarified evenly, face stoic, almost bored. “I only meant that should you ever want or need to fight to defend yourself you must learn how to do so properly, and refine it.”

“He’s right,” Gwyn added, “if it weren’t for the rigorous training we do here, I’m afraid Emerie, Nesta, and I wouldn’t be alive.”

But Eowyn’s mind was no longer in the conversation, her mind instead focusing on the Spymaster and how his shadows seemed to have run from her at his beckoning.

Then she felt that same feeling on her right hand, the one hidden from his view. With only her eyes, so they wouldn’t notice her head shifting down, she looked down at her hand to see the shadow, almost a ball of nothing, swirling within her slightly cupped hand. She let out the smallest puff of air at the rogue shadow’s cheekiness. Wondered if the spymaster had absolute control over his pets or if they had a mind of their own.

“You did good today,” he spoke softly at her side after a minute, in a low, almost shy tone. She wondered if he only said so to convince her to return, not wanting to scare her off. Wondered if he was the type to overthink everything he said and did, the same way she did.

Wondered a lot of things.

But she only shifted a fraction of a centimeter closer, slightly inclined her head and said, “thank you,” before bidding the rest of them a quiet farewell and making her way to the stairs.

part 2

a/n: this is my first fic ever and i’ve no beta yet, if it isn’t obvious lol if yall have anything to say, good or bad, ill be happy to know :)

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