#stubborn gwyn and azriel is peak comedy

[broodybatboy]

warmth in winter

Read on AO3

Summary: There's only one bed! Azriel and Gwyn find themselves stranded on a cold winter night. Snow, stubbornness, and sweet moments are plenty.

About the series: a collection of moments, teasing, and tender nights that Azriel let Gwyn enter his heart. [AO3] Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Azriel was hurt.

Azriel and Gwyn trudge on foot at the edge of the Winter Court. The air howls all around them. Branches groan under the weight of the heavy snow. The winds lick their skins. Beside him, Gwyn’s hair whips and whirls under her hood. Flames dancing in the snow. His own shadows, weak and faint, look like black tendrils of smoke. Together, they resemble a feeble fire in the stark white of their landscape.

Azriel had been shot down from the skies with an arrow tipped in faebane. Together, they fought off an attack from the Autumn Court soldiers they had been spying on. His powers were totally weakened. The snowstorm and darkening sky guaranteed he wouldn’t make it far with his wings. They needed to find shelter for the night. They were freezing cold and exhausted. They needed food.

Gwyn was making the best of a bad situation. He knew she was trying to cheer him up. Even the snow couldn’t dim her blazing energy. He suspects that she’s equally worried but she doesn’t dare show it. Truthfully, he feels immensely glad for her company. He feels the corners of his lips tug up. Her sheer determination and cheerfulness is working. He isn't nearly as miserable as he ought to be. She's making sure of that.

They had been flying when the attack occurred. Gwyn tumbled down from his grasp in the sky and delivered a nasty blow to the Autumn Court soldier who shot him down. It was a sight to behold as she jumped on his back, trampled him to the ground, and knocked him out. Azriel took care of the other soldier with his free arm and a blade. Gwyn delivered a swift kick to the third soldier before Azriel dealt the lethal slit to his throat.

She had tended to his wound. He caught her concerned look and the slight tremble of her hands. "Just a scratch," he tried to assure her. Now, they had walked for what seemed like hours trying to find their way out the forest.

“You have your own personal Carynthian bodyguard. Very rare you know,” she chirps at his side.

He chuckles knowing just how to goad her. “A Carythian trained by one of the most powerful Carynthians in all the Seven Courts.”

“Cassian?” she says with utter smugness. Then, in the tone she learned could elicit eye-rolls from him she continues, “Oh, you mean yourself. Yes, the big scary Shadowsinger with seven gems and terrifying shadows.” She raises her palms in front of her in mock fear. A brave little shadow dares to meet fingertip as she giggles. "You worried that the student will surpass the master?”

“Getting a little cocky there, Berdara.”

“I’m not the one who got shot with an arrow,” she responds and struts off ahead to the top of a hill.

Only Gwyn could make an ambush and an attack humorous. He doesn't mind the assault to his ego. Rather, he feels a strange sense of pride. He may have helped in her training, but everything she accomplished was by her doing. A tiny ember inside him sparks and brings the faintest warmth to his freezing chest.

“Shadowsinger! Look!” she yells out and waves for him to join her.

As he meets her at the top, through the snowy haze, chimneys with puffs of smoke come into view. A village, not far off, with the promise of heat and food.

They quickly find their way towards the village inn. Inside it is packed and buzzing with activity. The common area is filled with tables full of food, drink, and people escaping the cold. Instinctively, he places his palm at the small of her back, drawing her closer. Her gloved hand reaches for his bicep. He feels her body tense up and her face scans their surroundings for any dangers.

A portly little woman, the innkeeper, greets them. She seems harmless but he keeps Gwyn close as he requests the room.

"You're in luck, darlings. You get our last room. Now, why don't you go sit down and I'll bring over a nice steaming bowl of stew and bread."

Food.

Gwyn squeezes his arm in eagerness as they make their way towards an empty table near the back. Both of them relax a little as they sit down and fully take in their surroundings. The inn is well-maintained and clean. The patrons seem harmless enough. They are mostly merchants and visitors from neighboring villages. A few have had too much to drink. They are more of a nuisance than a threat. Their real enemies are lying dead in the snow miles away.

The innkeeper returns with two steaming bowls of stew and a loaf of crusty bread. Gwyn thanks her with a bright smile. After taking a greedy spoonful of stew she lets out a series of praises to the delight of the innkeeper. Azriel just watches them chatter while eating his stew. Gwyn has a way of charming everyone she meets. He feels a pang of possessiveness at the thought. Suddenly, feeling very grateful that the innkeeper is not young and male.

"Do you have anything warm to drink?" Gwyn eagerly asks her.

"We got ale, sweetie. That’ll keep your belly warm." She walks off to bring them back two large pints of ale. Azriel sits contently as his body thaws with the steam of stew and the smile blazing across the table.

"Cheers, to not dying,” he says. Azriel lifts his chalice and clanks his cup with Gwyn's.

"Now, it may be the hunger and thirst talking but this is the best meal I've ever had," Gwyn says between spoonfuls and glugs. Azriel merely laughs as they enjoy their meal. Once they finish, they make their way up the stairs to their room.

He enters the room and freezes.

"There's only one bed!" Gwyn exclaims peering from behind him.

Indeed. The only room left in this place has one tiny bed. The rest of the space is cramped with a dresser and nightstands. The window is rusty and cracked. Any gust of strong wind sends cold throughout the room. Still, better than sleeping outside in the freezing snow.

“Right, I'll sleep on the floor," Azriel remarks dropping his cloak and pack on the dresser with a thud.

Gwyn moves towards him. Her hands propped on her hips as she stares him down. "You will most certainly not."

"I don't mind."

"You are not sleeping on the floor,” she repeats dropping each word like bricks. Her headstrong wall taking shape.

"It’s fine.” He meets her stance and crosses his arms.

“No,” she says stepping closer to him. He can see it in her eyes, that stubborn refusal to back down. But he’s stubborn too.

“Yes.”

"Azriel."

"Gwyneth."

They stare at each other in silence for some time before the knock on the door snaps them out of their stand-off. It's the innkeeper. Gwyn's charm has earned them a surprise. Gwyn moves to collect the massive bottle of the innkeeper's special reserve ale.

"She's so friendly. I can't believe she gave us this giant bottle." Gwyn chuckles and sits down on the floor leaning her head on the base of the bed.

"What are you doing?" he asks towering above her.

"Sitting, obviously."

"Oh, I hadn't noticed," he says dripping with sarcasm. He rolls his eyes in the way only Gwyn can provoke. "Why are you on the floor, Berdara?" he asks already anticipating her answer.

"Looks like you'll have to rest on the bed," she smirks and takes a long drink of the ale.

He narrows his eyes at her and sits his butt down beside her. "Try me.” She looks amused as he adjusts his sitting position in the tight space. Finally, he finds a way to sit with his wings tucked and knees pressed to his chest. He is extremely close to her but it doesn't matter. He is not letting her win.

"Try this," she says offering him the ale, a momentary truce. "It's really good,"

He can't resist. She's right. It is really good, and it does warm his belly.

A cold gust of air comes in from the cracks in the window. Gwyn shivers. They're sitting so close that he can feel her shake.

"Gwyn, come on. We can at least sit on the bed and away from the window."

"Az, I'm fine. I'm not even that cold," she says with her sweet stubbornness. When will she learn? He'd sooner freeze to death than let her sleep on the cold floor. Then, as if the Mother was on his side, another frigid blast comes straight towards them. She is practically trembling beside him. Even he feels colder as goosebumps prickle his skin.

"Okay fine. At least for now, we can both sit on the bed." She stands up and sits on the left side of the bed. Azriel gets up and sits on the right. She grabs the blankets and drapes them over their legs. Azriel tries to suppress the goofy grin building on his face. He wouldn't declare it a victory, not yet.

Soon, the bottle of ale is empty and discarded to the side. They are beyond tired and the ale settles warmly in their bellies. They are slightly drunk on exhaustion, ale, and each other. All their restraint is lost. They sit more comfortably. Azriel props up on an elbow and takes up almost the entirety of the bed. Gwyn is sitting outstretched with one leg and butt cheek precariously close to the edge. Their earlier stand-off is long forgotten. They talk about the day's events. They tease and take jabs at each other. Azriel feels hypnotized as Gwyn babbles on about the animals and traditions of the Winter Court.

"I read that the snow bears can weigh up to 1,500 pounds." Her eyes go wide. "They can grow up to 10 feet ta—" She stretches her arms high to demonstrate the height and totally loses her balance. Then, she's falling.

But Azriel is quick. He grabs her waist and pulls her up. "I got you," he says smiling as he settles her on the bed.

"Good catch," she says a bit flustered.

They stare at each other like that for a few moments. He realizes his hand has been on her waist for too long to be acceptable. He shyly retreats it back. They're laying so close to each other. He can't quite believe how beautiful she looks. So close, the shadows belong to both of them. They bounce between their bodies as if deciding who to favor. Azriel thinks his exhaustion is deceiving him. They look like they're leaning towards Gwyn. She begins to twirl her fingers around them. She looks at the bed space between them. There is almost no space and she is still precariously on the edge. He's keeping an eye on her. He won't let her fall again.

She keeps studying him and scanning him over without saying anything. He feels self-conscious and timid under her gaze.

"Az, you literally take up the entire bed. How are you so massive? Pure muscle and power. You're just like the snow bear."

He laughs so hard that he almost rolls off the bed. She laughs too.

She continues her interrogations. She's so unabashed and curious. She asks about his Illyrian markings, his wings, and the shadows. And because they are freezing cold and exhausted, they gravitate closer to each other. He can see the freckles sprinkled on her cheeks and the icy gleam of her eyes. He can't get enough of her smile.

She has a rebellious strand of hair. Azriel instinctively reaches over and tucks it behind her ear. He says something sweet without realizing it. She's the best mission partner. He's so proud of her.

Gwyn just stares at him. He can’t believe he just said that.

Then, she closes the space between them in an embrace. She's almost on top of him, holding his torso. His hands wrap around her, an innate impulse. It feels warm and bright. They fit so well together. He hugs her tighter.

Gwyn lets out a gasp. Her head pops up from his chest to look at him. She's had an epiphany.

“Az! Look! We both fit on the bed like this." There's the faintest echo of hesitation in her voice as she continues, "What if we just slept like this? Would you be okay with that?"

Would he mind sleeping on a bed instead of the cold floor? Would he mind practically cuddling with her? Would he mind having warm and soft Gwyn holding him all night? Gwyn once told him there was no such thing as silly questions. This feels like a silly question. No, he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all.

However, concern grips his rational mind. What about her? Would she mind? His stomach turns to knots.

“Gwyn, I wouldn't mind. But are you sure? Would you feel comfortable?”

His expression doesn't get the chance to worry because she immediately gives him an appreciative smile that pinches at his heart.

She says, “I don't mind at all. I always feel comfortable around you.”

A cold gust of wind washes over him like the sense of relief at her response. He feels her shiver down her spine. He gently runs his palm up and down her back. “Practically speaking, it would also increase our body heat since it's so cold in here."

She gapes at him as if he just said something wise and profound. “You're completely right. It won't do the mission any good if we freeze to death."

She lets go of him briefly to reach for the blankets. It's pathetic, he already misses her warmth. She grabs the edges of the blankets and leans over to wrap it around him. She is gentle, slow, and careful around his wings. No one has ever tucked him into bed. No one has ever been this careful with him.

She smiles as she leans away to do the same on her side. Then, cautiously, she outstretches her arms. She meets his eyes in a silent ask for permission.

Yes, please. He wants to beg. All he can do is nod.

She wraps her arms around his middle. Her head rest against his chest under his chin. His own arms circling around her holding her even closer than before. One hand returns to her back. His large palm moves in a comforting rhythm, stringing a melody down her spine.

“Gwyn, if you change your mind or feel uncomfortable. Please, tell me. I’ll sleep on the floor. I’m serious," he says in a firm voice.

“I won’t change my mind. You’re far too warm.” She turns to look up at him. “And I know you would. Thank you, Az.”

She nestles her head back on his chest, the ember inside him sparking in the same spot. Their bodies are practically molded for each other. He feels the rise and fall of her chest against his.

“Cheers to not freezing to death,” he whispers, a sleepy smile grazing her head.

“Cheers to not dying,” she whispers, her voice filled with relief. All her muscles relax into his. Her fingertips caress the spot where he was hurt. He understands, now, how much worry she was holding in. She's been so strong. Her hand moves down, laying flat on his heart. Her heartbeat matching the steady rhythm of his own. He feels totally relaxed and at peace. His eyelids go heavy and his limbs weigh down with each breath. The unreal warmth and magnetism of being together overpowering all his senses.

They are warm in bed. They are together. He will always protect her. He feels something change inside him. He now understands what it feels to be safe and at peace. He strokes her hair and places the faintest kiss on her forehead. It feels like this.

tagged! @gwynrielsupremacy | @onemorenightdreamer | @imwritingthesewords | @camreadsum | @hlizr50 [if you want to be added to my tags just lemme know]