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separatist-apologist · 2 years

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A Mythical Thing

I'm begging for you to take my hand. Wreck my plans.

Summary: A creature of scales and shadows lurks just beyond the woods. Watching.

Waiting.

For a priestess bathed in light and the shimmering bond that tethers them together.

A moment of impulsivity drives them together, wrapping them in fates golden ribbon.

Azriel will do anything to make her his.

Read More: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3

Just as Azriel had promised, he’d asked Cassian for a space to train not just Gwyn, but Emerie and Nesta, too. Cassian had joined in, clearly curious about Nesta though he was trying not to be. Gwyn didn’t mind it—Cassian was much easier to talk to than Azriel, who watched the three of them with disapproving eyes. Nesta was easily the least coordinated of the three of them, which gave Gwyn a secret amount of joy given how irritable Nesta was.

She didn’t want to be trapped among them. It was practical. Some dragon prince had stolen a human princess, and Cassian was concerned there would be retaliation. Nesta’s sister was engaged to some fancy human lord despite having the literal king of the dragons as a mate, and her other sister had a baby with some feral dragon in the woods.

Gwyn never tired of hearing Nesta talk, even if she could be mean about it. Nothing would ever be as fascinating as Nesta’s interpersonal drama. Nesta was also interested in Gwyn and accepting the bond, but that was hardly as fascinating.

“We had sex,” she said, loud enough for Azriel to trip over his steps, all but crashing into the weapons cart.

“Did it hurt?” Nesta asked, not daring to look at Cassian though he was absolutely looking at her. Their training ring was hidden from the main part of the city, cleared of snow and other debris so they could learn to use their bodies like weapons. Emerie was the best and Gwyn fell somewhere in the middle, much to Azriel’s immense pleasure. She thought he might have returned her if Nesta was better.

Cassian was listening a little too carefully though he was trying to seem as if he wasn’t. Azriel, too, was eagle-eyed across the ring, as if he hadn’t been there. As if they hadn’t had sex just that morning.

“No,” Gwyn whispered, half annoyed with the males circling them like vultures. This felt too private to be blabbing about, especially when Azriel immediately straightened, all but preening as he went back to arranging the weapons.

Emerie seemed to realize what was happening, too. Brown eyes snapped to the males as she said, “You two should spend the night with me tonight. Just girls,” she added, her gaze bouncing between Cassian and Azriel.

“Yes,” Nesta breathed as Gwyn nodded fervently. And though she knew Cassian and Azriel didn’t like it, they could not deny their mates. It was a fun little loophole to getting what she wanted, as whatever compulsion Azriel felt to make her happy did not exist the same way in Gwyn. He looked down at her with big, sad eyes that evening, clearly hoping she’d change her mind.

She’d spent every waking moment with him over the last month. She loved him, and yet Gwyn couldn’t pretend she didn’t also want real, honest-to-gods friends. Since Catrin died, Gwyn had been achingly alone. Azriel filled most of that void but Nesta and Emerie presented a new opportunity for sisters. They weren’t a replacement for Catrin—no one was—but they could occupy the space Catrin had left behind.

Emerie locked up her shop early once Cassian deposited Nesta at the front door. He wasn’t as reluctant as Azriel had been, likely because Nesta had made it exceedingly clear she did not want to be in Windhaven and especially did not want to be his mate. Gwyn felt a prick of sympathy for him. Cassian was so obviously trying to walk the line between his own instincts and what she wanted.

To be a leader to his people and carve out some happiness of his own. What was it like, she wondered, watching the others kidnap their mates and make it work while he remained distant and polite to no avail. Would Nesta like Cassian better if he’d taken her somewhere remote and isolated her?

Somehow, Gwyn doubted it.

The second floor of Emerie’s shop was her little home. It was big enough for the three of them to pile blankets on top of the wood floor and spread out, all but drowning in a sea of pillows. There were no males lurking here, no one to eavesdrop. They could be honest.

“So what’s going on with you and Cassian?” Emerie asked the very first second they were settled. Nesta, the clear outsider, went stiff. Hugging a pillow to her chest, Nesta shrugged defensively.

“Do you like him?” Gwyn asked curiously.

“He’s…fine,” Nesta conceded.

“Then what—”

“My younger sister was supposed to be sacrificed to some terrible, golden dragon. I watched them put her in a cart and drag her away. All the men spoke about for days afterwards was how he probably…” her cheeks flushed, embarrassed. Gwyn could imagine. Men were obsessed to the point of arousal at the thought of women experiencing sexual violence. “She was supposed to be dead. And my other sister—Feyre—begged them to go looking for her. We got a letter saying she was okay, but maybe…maybe it was a game? Some cruel prank.”

“This is the sister who is having the baby?” Emerie clarified.

Nesta nodded.

“They brought him back in irons. No clothes, face bloodied. Laughing at what that creature had done to her. How she was pregnant and…” Nesta shuddered.

Gwyn took a breath, feeling awful at how harshly they’d judged Nesta.

“And then Elain returned, in love with the monster we’d been taught to fear. She brought all of them with her. She brought Cassian. And he’s not like Lucien, who is a little wild but keeps to himself. Cassian is…”

Emerie nodded, but Gwyn didn’t understand. Maybe because she’d never seen Lucien, but Cassian seemed wholly nice and if he’d been her mate, she didn’t think she’d have a problem loving him.

“One evening I’m in bed, sick over what a monster did to my sister and the next she’s breaking into our home and she’s brought a man with her who claims we’re fated to be together. Tied by some string only he can feel. General of the dragons…second in command to a king and I…”

Nesta sucked in a shuddering breath. “Maybe it worked out for Elain. She could be happy anywhere. Taming some wild, terrible monster is the exact sort of thing she’d do. Of course she found something to love. But I’m not Elain, and I know what men like that are like.”

“Cassian isn’t a man,” Emerie murmured, some color rising in her brown cheeks. Gwyn wondered if she wasn’t feeling defensive of her people. “He’s male, and harming a female is the gravest of offenses.”

“Then why don’t you marry him?”

Emerie barked out a laugh. “I don’t like males, even honorable ones. If you don’t want Cassian, reject the bond.”

Nesta sat up a little straighter. “How?”

“Just…tell him. He’ll let you go if you say you’re rejecting it.”

Gwyn looked down at her hands, unable to stomach the thought. How terrible for Cassian, to want a mate likely his whole life, only for her to reject him. She couldn’t help herself as she asked,

“You really want to go back to that place?”

Nesta was quiet for a moment. “I don’t know how to turn my back on my humanity…on my life.”

“Must have been a good life, then,” Emerie interjected smoothly. Gwyn looked up, unsettled to find Nesta’s silvery blue eyes fixated on her.

“What happened?” Nesta asked her.

“Don’t—” Emerie began, but maybe Nesta needed to know.

“Two men in my village raped my sister and I,” she said frankly. “We were thirteen and our mother had died six months earlier. They knew we’d be alone and so they came in. My sister fought back and they killed her for it. I didn’t…so I got to live.”

Emerie put her hand on Gwyn’s shoulders and too late, she realized she was shaking. She needed to tell this story to people who would understand. Who knew all too well the sort of violence men so casually partook in.

Wiping the tear gathered in the corner of her eye, she continued. “Afterwards, I was deemed…too tempting to continue living there. All the married women were afraid I’d steal their husbands, I suppose. Or maybe no one wanted a reminder of what had happened. They buried Catrin and they sent me to a temple where I lived for fifteen years. Atoning for that night. And maybe…maybe I don’t need to atone.”

Nesta stared down at her hands. “I had a suitor like that once. He uh…he didn’t finish, but he got close.”

Gwyn reached out her hand, taking Nesta’s and squeezing. “We’ve never been anything but cattle to them. They packed up your sister and sent her to a monster. And look what she did in return. She loved him. Don’t you think there’s bravery in that?”

Nesta bit her bottom lip. “You’re not afraid?”

Gwyn glanced at Emerie. “No,” she finally said.

“You don’t want to go back?” Nesta pressed.

“I want to see Catrin again. To tell her I’m okay, that she can rest. And I’d like to see those men punished for what they did to her. But I’ll never live among them again. And I think, after a couple years, a lot of other women will come up here too, feeling the same way.”

“What if we went back?” Emerie said after a quiet pause. “The three of us? You could see Catrin and Nesta could…do…whatever is holding her back?”

It was clear Nesta wasn’t ready to talk about whatever that was. Still, Nesta nodded, still clutching that pillow to her chest.

“Azriel and Cassian—”

“Don’t have to know,” Emerie replied. “I have wings, too. I fly just as well as they do. We’ll tell them we’re having another sleepover and just go.”

Gwyn looked up at Nesta before nodding to Emerie.

“As long as they don’t find out.”

Azriel would kill her—not literally, of course. But metaphorically, with his silent disappointment. He’d been training her for the express purpose of taking her himself, of standing behind her silently while she exacted her revenge. Gwyn had always liked that idea, right up until the moment Emerie proposed a different solution. One in which she went alone, dagger in hand, and executed those men without help. Without Azriel’s wounded pride getting in her way.

Nesta was the last to agree.

“I don’t want to go back to my village yet,” she whispered. “But I’ll come with Gwyn to hers. I’m…I’m not ready.”

Emerie nodded, clasping both Nesta and Gwyn’s hands in her own.

“Then it’s settled.”

AZRIEL:

It was a restless night without his mate, made worse by how happy she was when he came to retrieve her that next morning. She was making plans to do it again, hugging even the imperiously cold Nesta Archeron. Bubbly and bright and so lovely, Azriel was pleased to see Cassian’s mate hug her back before retreating inside. Cassian was considering asking Emerie to let Nesta remain with her, given how poorly the bond between them was going.

Cassian, though he didn’t say so, was terrified Nesta would reject it. Distance was better than a flat out refusal and if it had been Azriel in Cassian’s shoes, he probably would have made the same choice.

“Have fun?” Azriel asked Gwyn when they returned home. She shook snow out of her coppery hair, cheeks flushed from the cold. He’d never get over how beautiful she was. Gwyn nodded happily, flinging her arms around his neck.

“You aren’t upset I left you?” she asked, kissing his cheek just the way he liked. Of all the places she put her mouth, that was his favorite. Azriel wrapped his arms around her body, all his dislike melting into contentment.

“No,” he replied, half dragging her into the living room so he could put her on his lap. She snuggled against him, head just beneath his chin. “I’m glad you’re making friends.”

She inhaled against the fabric of his shirt. “If I’m going to live here, it should feel like home, right?”

His whole body was tight. “Yes,” he agreed. She was so reasonable and he was so grumpy.

“You don’t mind sharing?” she added, reading his mind.

Azriel huffed. “I will learn.”

“I hope so. I think Nesta feels a little better than she did last night. Do you know what happened in her village?”

Azriel shook his head. “I wasn’t there for it. I know very little.”

“Hm,” she murmured. “Something happened, and it made her scared to leave and I think it’s why she’s afraid to accept Cassian. I wish I knew.”

“I’m sure you’ll learn,” he whispered.

“At the next sleepover,” Gwyn said with a confidence he was certain was deserved. “Next month.”

He nodded. A whole month between sleepless nights was hardly anything to complain about given how he’d spent centuries that way. Kissing the top of her head, Azriel thought he was unfair to complain at all. She came home to him, didn’t she? Wore his scales so obviously, and with so much pride that it was impossible not to recognize her for what she was? Even human males, with their dulled sense of smell, would recognize she had a mate and think twice about harming her.

Not that there were any human males so far up. It was the one thing Azriel never worried about. It would take at least a year to make Gwyn proficient enough with a blade before she could return home. To seek vengeance against the males who had wronged her. Cassian was a good teacher and Azriel was careful. He wanted her to be able to handle a dagger in her sleep before he brought her down there, and he knew he’d be watching her like a hawk the entire time.

He could step in should anything go truly wrong.

Azriel blew out a breath. “You’re mine today, though?”

“I’m yours always,” she replied, tilting her head to look up at him. Azriel hesitated for a moment, the words I love you on the tip of his tongue. He didn’t know how to tell her—if he had any right to say those words at all. She had just arrived, was adjusting to this life, this place, to him. He wished he wasn’t the first dragon in his home to take a mate. There was no one to as about these sorts of things and Azriel would be damned if he went and asked Lucien for help.

Azriel pressed another kiss against her scalp, choosing to remain silent. He’d tell her, he reasoned.

Just not when he was so scared.

“I’ll cook tonight,” he told her when she started to shift. Gwyn was half asleep against his check and it felt sacrilegious to move her. Azriel shifted, so her body was caged within his own, thighs bracketing her. “Did you sleep much last night?”

“We stayed up late,” she admitted, teal eyes bright with pleasure. It settled the wild thing in his chest. His mate was happy, which made Azriel happy. Stroking her hair, he wondered if he couldn’t lull her to sleep.

“What did you do?”

“Talk,” she whispered, fingers toying with his tunic. Was she trying to distract him, or was she distracted? Azriel couldn’t figure it out and found it didn’t matter when her delicate hand slid against his overheated skin.

He swallowed.

“About what?” he whispered.

“You,” she replied, just as he hoped she would. “How handsome you are…how big your wings are…”

“Yeah?” he said roughly, his cock stirring to life at the thought. “You think my wings are big?”

Had Emerie told Gwyn that their kind believed a big wingspan correlated to a big cock? Or had she let Gwyn brag about his large wings to Nesta, unaware of what she was actually saying? He almost hoped it was the latter, though in truth it hardly mattered.

So long as she was bragging to her friends about him.

“I think you’re the best looking male here,” Gwyn added, inflating his already ballooning pride. She thought that? Having seen not just Cassian, but a lot of the males of Windhaven? Azriel couldn’t help himself, tilting her face so he could kiss her.

“There he is,” she murmured against his lips. Azriel’s eyes flew open but Gwyn was practically straddling him, pushing up against the couch for a messy, rough kiss. “I was starting to think you didn’t miss me at all.”

Because he hadn’t torn her clothes off the very first second he’d got? Azriel was trying to be respectful, to be considerate. He liked holding his mate. Not every moment needed to be punctuated with fucking.

At least, he’d thought that right up until her arousal slammed into his chest. He could hold her and fuck her, he reasoned. It could be both. Perhaps, he thought as he glanced towards the stairs he absolutely would not wall up, he could hold her up against the wall and take her.

Azriel hauled her out of her dress, ripping the buttons without meaning to. Gwyn squealed some admonishment but he didn’t care. She had others and, barring that, could be gifted more. The thought of giving her something pretty to replace the old made him all but purr with pleasure.

He let her take him out of his tunic, shirtless before he readjusted them. Legs wrapped around his waist on their little couch, Gwyn held his face, breasts teasing his skin until he ached. He couldn’t stop kissing her, addicted to the taste of her tongue in his mouth.

Azriel stood, still kissing like his life depended on it. Maybe it did, and that's why instinct rode him so hard. All Azriel knew was if he stopped, he might actually die. He made it to his wall, holding her bare ass with one arm, the other frantically removing the pants he loathed. Absently, he wondered if he might condition her to walk around their shared home naked, too.

He wished, at any rate. The humans were so fussy about being covered.

Azriel adjusted Gwyn, sliding her down on his cock with ease. She was so wet, so warm and tight. It was all a dream to him, still. A mate. His mate.

She exhaled, clinging to his shoulders roughly. “I missed you,” she told him, teeth sinking into his skin. Azriel groaned, thrusting into her unthinkingly. Instinct drove hm, demanded he do this.

More, more, more. Would he ever reach a point where he’d had enough? Where he could relax into her, didn’t feel so achingly wild by her mere presence?

“Missed you too,” he grunted, capturing her mouth in a messy kiss. He was so bruisingly close he thought he might lose his mind entirely. He had to readjust her, hold her again with just one hand, rubbing at that bundle of nerves he liked so much until Gwyn was writhing desperately, tightening rhythmically against him over and over, all but milking his cock.

Azriel came a mere second before her, his relief shadowed by his still furious need. He rode her through it, pinned against the cool wall behind them. Nipping kisses against her collarbone, he pulled himself out of her just long enough to run them up the stairs.

“What are you doing?” Gwyn asked when he laid her out on the bed, pushing open her thighs so he could see their gleaming wet of their release sticking against her thighs.

“I’m not done with you,” he murmured, burying his face in the damp curls just above her cunt. "You smell...you smell incredible."

“Will you open a window?” she asked him. “I’m so warm.”

He glanced down at her flushed, sweaty skin, eyes falling on the deep blue scales against her fair skin. Pleasure skittered over his skin, humming just enough to keep his cock rock hard and bobbing between his thighs.

Azriel rose, turning his back just long enough to yank open a window and let cool air pour into the room. He, too, was overheated and the cold felt good against his body. Azriel turned, expecting to find her still splayed out for him.

She crawled on her hands and knees, looking at him over her shoulder.

He almost told her he loved her then. The swell of her ass, her hair framing her face…those eyes. It was nearly too much.

He didn’t. Azriel took a breath and smiled.

“Are you ready, sweet mate?” he murmured.

She put her cheek into the pillow as response.

Ready as she’d ever be.

GWYN:

“Az,” Gwyn protested at the front of their door, smiling despite herself. He was running his nose against her neck, hand curling in her hair. A month of time might have been a blink given how happy she was. How happy they both were. He hadn’t stopped touching her since she’d returned from last months sleepover with Emerie and Nesta—it had been normal enough at first.

But Gwyn was exhausted and constantly burning. She’d thought she might have a fever at first. That she’d caught something the dragons wouldn’t notice but a human body would. And in a way, she’d been right when she did the mental math backwards in her head and realized she hadn’t had a monthly bleed since she’d arrived.

He wouldn’t recognize the scent of a pregnant female because he’d never been around one. And Gwyn couldn’t tell him without risking him refusing to let her out of his sight. She saw the way he watched the full-blooded child run about, screaming and laughing while his mother tried to do her shopping. The yearning on his face was enough for Gwyn to pray Azriel didn’t piece together his new found obsession with her scent. Not until after her and Nesta and Emerie went to see Catrin.

Maybe he would have taken her.

And maybe he wouldn’t have risked it, knowing what humans had done to the women and children before. She knew if Azriel begged, she would relent and by the time he remembered his promises, those men would be dead.

The baby was too small to be seen and well protected within her body. She’d be back before he ever realized she’d left. Gwyn would tell him tomorrow at dinner. It was her promise to the mother above to absolve her of this little white lie. She’d tell him and agree to whatever he asked of her, regardless if she wanted it or not.

Azriel huffed against her skin, teeth scraping at the pulse point. “Make them wait,” he all but begged, groaning when he licked the little hurt. “You taste…”

She would have given anything to experience the world with his senses. Gwyn spun, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth. “You’re so sweet,” she murmured, delighting when the pleased red flushed against the brown of his cheeks. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Not soon enough,” he murmured, arms wrapping around her body. She’d never get him out of this house.

“Come on,” she urged, tugging on his hand. He grabbed her cloak and hat though Gwyn relished the cold against her skin. The child inside her was warm-blooded like their father, taking it out on Gwyn. Azriel didn’t understand, jamming that hat over her head like he always did before he shifted into his massive, scaled form. His head whipped around again, nostrils flaring as he nuzzled at her body. Gwyn held herself so, so still, wondering if his dragon form knew something his two-legged form did not.

If he did, he hadn’t pieced it together. Instead, Azriel lowered himself so she could climb atop him and took off with his usual gliding joy. Gwyn was grateful for the cold, letting it seep into her body. She felt almost normal by the time they landed though Azriel frowned when he saw her.

“Your lips are blue,” he told her, fingers caressing the skin.

Touchy, touchy. Cassian watched from a few yards away, eyes bouncing between his indifferent mate and his best friend.

Gwyn leaned up on her tiptoes and pressed another kiss to his cheek. I’m sorry for this, she thought. He was so good and she loved him so much—another thing she hadn’t told him. Azriel had given no indication he felt it and Gwyn wasn’t sure what he’d do if she said it. Would he tell her he loved her too? Or would he freeze up, eyes wide as he said nothing at all.

She didn’t even know if his kind had any concept of love. Maybe the scales she wore and the ring on her finger was love to him?

“Just one night,” she whispered. Az clenched his jaw and dropped his hands to reach at his belt for his dagger.

“Just in case,” he murmured, as if he knew what she was planning. Gwyn took it, marveling at the steel blade encased in a silver hilt. Ancient runes she couldn’t read were etched into the onyx handle, smooth and worn under her fingers.

“I won’t need this,” she whispered, trying to give it back. He shook his head and this, she realized, was instincts way of recognizing what he could not. He needed to protect her, not knowing why. Giving her his blade soothed him—settled him enough to let him walk away.

“Take it,” he urged her, hands wrapped around her own. She rubbed against the scars, looking up at him with an aching heart. Gwyn surged upwards on her tiptoes.

“I love you,” she whispered in his neck. She just had to tell him. She would have exploded if she hadn’t, would have begged him to take her home and put her to bed.

His arms were around her in an instant and oh. How silly to think he couldn’t love?

Lips pressed into her hair, Azriel said, “I love you, too.” They pulled apart, watching the other for a beat. His hands returned to his side and Gwyn stepped back. “See you tomorrow?”

A smile ghosted over his lips. “Tomorrow.”

It was hell, in a strange way, to turn her back on him. Was it betrayal or was it guilt, she wondered. Maybe a mixture of both, though she didn’t dare say a word. Inside, Nesta and Emerie were watching through the window to see when Cassian and Azriel would walk away. Nesta was in pants, her golden brown hair braided in a crown around her head. It took them both a moment before they turned, backs to Emerie’s shop.

“You need to change,” Emerie said immediately, looking at Gwyn in her long, blue dress. “We’ll leave in an hour—Azriel and Cassian are going to inspect their soldiers.”

Nesta nodded. “The prince is coming tomorrow morning.”

She would know, given she lived with Cassian. They wouldn’t be thinking about the three of them for hours. Long enough for them to slip out, exact a little punishment, and slip back in.

“You don’t think we’ll make things worse?” Nesta asked, wrapping her arms around her chest. “One of my sisters still lives down there. I heard Cassian…” she sucked in a breath. “The continent is threatening war over some missing princess. They’re convinced she was killed or kidnapped by a dragon.”

“My village is small…and its far–”

“And they won’t know any of us are dragons,” Emerie added, as if the iridescent scales on her face didn’t immediately betray her. Nesta and Gwyn stared but Emerie brushed them off. “I’ll keep a hood over my face, eyes cast down. Isn’t that what human males expect of their females?”

Nesta and Gwyn couldn’t argue that.

“In and out,” Emerie added. “Two dead males, killed at the hands of human females, is hardly worth starting an incident over. Cassian won’t even blink.”

Gwyn very much doubted that. Cassian was likely going to have a problem with their entire escapade, if only because dragons seemed to spend endless time worrying about their mates. Gwyn didn’t bother saying it—Nesta hadn’t accepted the bond.

And even if she had, they didn’t own them. That’s what Gwyn told herself, anyway. She dressed in tight pants and a wrap around top, sliding Azriel’s dagger against her leg, hidden in a long, large pocket. Emerie offered up a long, white ribbon that Gwyn secured around her forehead before winding her hair through it, keeping the long strands off her face.

“Ready?” Emerie asked, glancing towards Nesta and Gwyn.

It was a terrible plan.

Foolish.

Reckless.

Nesta inclined her chin, every inch the General of their group, even if she didn’t recognize it herself.

“Let’s go.”

It wasn’t a secret when Emerie shifted, nor did they try and hide when Gwyn and Nesta climbed on her back. Cassian and Azriel were nowhere to be found, which both relieved and disappointed Gwyn. She missed him, absurdly, despite spending every waking hour with him.

He loved her.

She felt silly, as they sailed over the mountain tops, heading towards the leafy forestland that she’d once lived in, for not realizing it. Her own giddiness warred with her anxiety. She hadn’t been home in fifteen years.

Fifteen years.

She could still remember sitting, head down, as the leaders of her village decided to send her out. She’d been seated at a table by herself, her legs dangling off the chair—she hadn’t been quite tall enough to reach the floor then. All eyes on her as both men and women came forward and made complaints, arguing why her presence was a nuisance.

Why her and Catrin had brought the horror of that night on themselves.

No apologies. No one but Gwyn was ever held responsible. She’d internalized it for so long, had spent years replaying the days leading up to that night, picking apart every little thing they’d said, they’d done. Trying so desperately to find the moment where it all unraveled.

Gwyn understood it now.

They’d been too young to fight back. Unguarded.

Women. Children until it didn’t serve their purpose, and then they’d become women. And everyone knew women lied, that they weren’t trustworthy. That they tried to tempt men into all kinds of depravity. Those men, Gwyn knew now, understood exactly what they’d been doing. Had known exactly how to weaponize their small beliefs.

And it had been her and Catrin who suffered for it.

It was terrifying to land, to watch Emerie shift and hide her beautiful face beneath a dark black cloak. Hands beneath the sleeves, she looked like just another woman behind imperious, terrifying Nesta and nervous Gwyn.

“We don’t have to do this,” Nesta whispered when Gwyn hesitated. They’d come in far enough no one would notice the scaled beast overhead—Emerie was truly a beautiful dragon, with a smaller, black scaled body and the most beautiful iridescent wings Gwyn had ever seen. Light shone right through them, reflecting rainbows across her body

“I do,” Gwyn replied, checking her pockets for the dagger again. Her hands trembled, her stomach churned and yet Gwyn took that first step. Flanked by women who were slowly becoming sisters.

Catrin would have loved it.

Longing swept over Gwyn, her own scales hidden by a collar that came up to her neck. Still human, for all it mattered. And it didn’t, she thought, stepping onto the worn grass path that slowly became a dirt road. They walked quietly, listening to the hum of the village just head, arms linked. They were three females, unaccompanied by a male and yet Gwyn didn’t feel fear this time.

She kept thinking about that little girl, alone and afraid. Preyed upon. Squaring her shoulders, Gwyn swore she was who she’d needed back then. She didn’t need Azriel’s protection—she was enough. They couldn’t break her.

Never again.

Some of her fear returned when she saw the stone arches beckoning people in. Nothing had changed. She could still see herself, barefoot and wild, running over the uneven streets with Catrin. Darting beneath the archway for the very woods she’d just come out of—the same that, miles and miles away, her own mate would one day take her from.

There was no mistaking who she was. The first set of eyes that fell on her widened, the woman halting entirely as Gwyn came in. She knew they’d never expected to see her again. Hoped to never see her again. She straightened her spine, the weight of Azriel’s dagger heavy in her pants.

She’d forgotten the absolute misery of this place. In her mind, it was special. Beautiful. Because this was where she’d loved Catrin, where she’d had her sister, everything was illuminated in Catrins rosy glow.

Without her sister, a heavy gloom permeated the pointed rooftops and the stone built homes. Everything seemed to be just stitched together, much like Gwyn had been.

She faltered when a familiar—yet aging and worn—face appeared in her line of sight. That man. The one who had put his hand over Catrins face, who had killed her for daring to tell him, stepped in front of her.

“You have no right to be here,” he whispered, those milky blue eyes much too afraid to command any true authority. Gwyn stared him down, letting him see her hatred.

“Get out of my way,” she whispered, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

“You need to leave,” he told her. Gwyn jutted her chin in the air.

“I’ve come to see my sister. You remember her,” she added. Nesta took a step towards him, lithe and lovely and so terrifying in her intensity that Catrins attacker yielded a step on instinct alone. A crowd was gathered, but Gwyn didn’t care. He was lucky she hadn’t ripped out that dagger.

It was fear that stopped her. Fear she was no better than him.

Fear that she might miss and damn them all.

They pushed forward, walking with measured steps through the village’s main road. All the way to the cemetery and its creaking, iron gates. Gwyn pushed them up, unable to stop the soft, choked sob that escaped her throat.

“Here,” an interloper's voice cut through the silence. Gwyn turned her head, drinking in a too-familiar face. She knew this girl—woman, now. Morrigan was Keir’s daughter, practically royalty if the village had such a thing. She’d never been allowed anywhere near wild and carefree Gwyn and Catrin.

Gwyn had forgotten all about her until she stepped forward. Her blonde hair was carefully pulled off a truly beautiful face. She held the hem of her red dress in one hand, reaching through the slats of the gate to unlatch it for Gwyn. Beside her, Emerie had gone utterly still, perhaps terrified Morrigan’s closeness would betray what she was.

Face mere inches from Gwyn’s, Mor whispered, “They can see the blue on your skin.” Gwyn turned to look, but Mor was stepping back, having risked too much already.

The crowd watched Gwyn push through, watched Nesta and the hidden Emerie join her. Gwyn knew exactly which crumbling, overgrown headstone belonged to Catrin. Sitting just beside their mothers, Gwyn marched to the very back, her fury threatening to consume her. How dare they. Had Catrin not been disrespected enough? Had she not suffered a terrible death? They couldn’t give her peace, even now?

Gwyn fell to her knees, ripping at the grass frantically, tossing those weeds to the side. Nesta went behind the headstone, pushing until it was upright again. Only Emerie remained on her feet, eyes hidden in shadows. The sound of the iron gate pushed open impatiently, boots thudding towards them.

“You have no—”

“I have every right!” Gwyn screamed furiously, twisting to look up at that man. “You killed her!”

She rose to her feet to face him, and for her trouble, earned a hand against her cheek. He hit her so hard she tasted blood, went flying to the ground without a second thought.

“Your sister killed—”

Gwyn screamed, pulling out Azriel’s dagger to bury in his shin. Her face ached unforgivably, her body throbbing from being tossed like a ragdoll.

Catrin’s attacker howled as more men came rushing forward, all holding swords. Emerie pushed back her hood, revealing her scaled face, her fanged teeth.

“I wouldn’t, were I you,” Nesta warned, revealing a red glinting blade she’d had strapped against her spine. Armed women were not done here. She could see the hesitation on their faces, trying to decide if they thought this was a true threat.

“Look out!” Morrigan’s voice screamed just a second too late. Something small and sharp went careening towards Emerie, catching her hard in the shoulder. Emerie’s knees buckled from the force and Gwyn wrenched out Azriel’s blade, skittering backwards as more men came rushing forward.

“If you wanted to join her so badly,” Catrin’s attacker panted. “You only had to ask.”

Gwyn looked up at the crowd, catching sight of a face that had haunted her dreams. He was old, too. And yet…and yet those brown eyes shone with the same ugliness as they had the night he’d come into her bedroom.

She swallowed.

And in the distance, something old and furious bellowed with rage. She looked at that man, peace stealing over her as his hunger was replaced with fear.

Gwyn knew what was coming.

“What was that?” someone whispered, everyone stilling.

Gwyn smiled, licking her lips.

“Death.”

AZRIEL:

Azriel was deeply unsettled as he and Cassian paced towards their gathered soldiers. Leaving Gwyn hadn’t settled well. Before had been merely a nuisance. He missed sleeping beside his mate. This, though…this felt wrong, made worse still by her whispered confession.

Like she was trying to tell him something else, something coded that he couldn’t read. Azriel couldn’t get her scent out of his nose, tha soft, powdery smell that mingled against her own. It had been driving him wild for weeks, growing stronger with each passing day.

He drew in a breath, glancing again towards Cassian. They’d been out here for an hour and all Cassian had been doing was studying him.

“Am I being too harsh again?” Azriel demanded, facing his oldest friend. The recruits had been trembling but he didn’t think he’d been any worse than usual.

Cassian shook his head. “Entirely kind, given your circumstances.”

Your circumstances. Azriel frowned. “Our circumstances are matched.”

Cassian scoffed. “How I wish.”

“Is Nesta not spending the night with Emerie?”

Cassian laughed. “You are much more laid back than me. If Nesta is ever carrying my young, I think I’ll have to put us both in a tower.”

Azriel’s ears began ringing. Carrying my young.

That scent. That new, baby soft scent.

Azriel swallowed, joy and fear bursting through his chest all at once. My young, my young— “A child.”

He was dazed and stupid, turning in a full circle in the snow like he was trying to find his tail. Cassian watched, laughing when he realized Azriel was experiencing the full range of emotions all at once. Gods, but a child? Already? How he’d hoped…but for the future. He’d just assumed…he didn’t know anything about human women or how they reproduced, and he’d been fucking her constantly, multiple times a night, every single night.

Had she known? When she’d been telling him she loved him, had she been trying to tell him this, too? And he’d been too wrapped up in his own disappointment over her friends, too weighed on by instinct, to recognize something was different.

Her heat, her discomfort, the way her eyes often glazed over, cheeks paling for no reason at all. He’d just thought she was still adjusting.

“I need to see her,” Azriel breathed. He just…he just needed her to know that he knew. That he was happy.

“Az–”

Azriel couldn’t be stopped. He shifted on instinct alone, taking to the sides with a joyful trumpet. A baby.

He left himself imagine it. Would the child have her hair or his? His scales? His wings? His ability to shift and blow fire? Would he teach the child to fly? Azriel had never dared to dream of this, not in his life. It seemed too wonderful, something impossible for the likes of him.

It was a chance to fix the mistakes of his own childhood. Gwyn’s, too. No horrible males trying to hurt them. No one trying to take away his mate. Just the three of them in that little house.

A family.

Cassian was just behind him, the pair landing on their feet in Windhaven with twin smiles. “This is good news,” Cassian told Azriel, practically bounding with joy. There were so few children to start with. Knowing they could even have them would be reassuring to males who were nervous about human females.

He went to pull open Emerie’s door, surprised to find it locked. It was mid-afternoon, and yet maybe they had decided to close up early in favor of whatever it was they did when he wasn’t around.

Azriel knocked.

And knocked.

No sounds. No whispered words, no giggling. Just oppressively quiet silence.

“Are you looking for Emerie?” a voice cut through his rising worry. Both Cassian and Azriel turned to the younger male looking back, his red scales stark against his dark skin. “She left with the humans an hour ago.”

“Left?” Cassian repeated, as if he hadn’t heard correctly. “For where?”

The male shrugged his shoulders…but Azriel knew. Gwyn, with her apologetic eyes and her whispered I love you hadn’t been trying to tell him about a baby.

She’d been apologizing for going back to see the humans. Back to that village. “I know,” Azriel whispered, hating himself for missing all the signs. He’d promised to take her, hadn’t he? What was the point of all the training? He’d always meant to.

He didn’t understand it, angry and hurt and so, so scared while he and Cassian made their way back to his home for the map Gwyn had put up on the wall. He wasn’t sure where the village was.

“Emerie is with them,” Cassian panted, his eyes shifting hazel to red over and over. As if that was supposed to make them feel better. Emerie was one of the last fully dragon females they had. If the human males harmed her…

Azriel had to swallow to keep from shifting, shaking his head back and forth to clear his thoughts, but his terror was threatening to drown him. She didn’t understand, he reasoned. Didn’t know the kind of violence the males might exact against Emerie if they realized she wasn’t human at all.

Or what else they could do to Gwyn if they saw her scales…learned of the child quietly growing in her body. Azriel snarled without meaning to, trying to settle the clawing ache in his body.

“If they touched any of them,” Azriel whispered.

And Cassian.

Reasonable, stoic, steady Cassian nearly ignited with fury. “I’ll kill them all. Fuck Rhysand’s diplomacy.”

It was what Azriel needed to hear.

They took to the skies, flapping furiously towards the humans. Azriel screamed a warning into the sky, his bellow echoed by Cassian’s blow of fire. Over and over, the sounds of their fury ricocheting off the mountaintops.

He saw her before he was close enough to land. Blood scented the air, though who it belonged to, Azriel couldn’t say. Gwyn was bleeding.

Emerie and Nesta, too. They were surrounded by males, swords drawn, in a cemetery. No one moved as he and Cassian approached, massive and utterly lethal. These weren’t the males from the battle before—trained to fight a creature with scales. These were farmers and craftsmen who only had skill overtaking human females.

Not two full grown dragons protecting their mates.

Azriel slammed to the ground first, careful not to harm Gwyn. His spiked tail curled around her, a warning to the closest male and his bleeding shin. Gwyn held Azriel’s bloodied dagger in her hand, her heart pounding in her chest.

Every male scrambled backwards when Cassian arrived. Nesta darted away from his massive form, making her way towards the bleeding Emerie.

“Get back, beasts!” a male shouted, too brave for his own good.

Azriel looked down at Gwyn, trembling beside him. Her face was purpled—marked, by one of them males. He nudged at her.

Who did this to you?

She pressed a hand against his snout before pointing a finger. “That’s the man who killed Catrin.”

He took two steps forward, opening his massive maw, and tore that male to pieces. There was nowhere to run—nowhere they could hide from him. Azriel knew he wasn’t done, not when that finger drifted towards another.

“And that’s the man…” her voice trailed off, catching softly. Azriel studied him, this cowardly creature that reeked of piss. He could not fathom it, could not understand how anyone could look at his mate and decide to harm her. Azriel had thought, when he saw the males, he would understand what evil looked like.

And he supposed he did.

Evil was ordinary.

Unremarkable.

Cowardly.

Blood still dripping from his teeth, Azriel paced forward as they humans parted, scrambling out of his path. Azriel didn’t care for his blubbering pleading. He’d lived far longer than he ever deserved. He only wished he took longer to rip his head from his body.

To spray the earth with his blood.

Cassian shifted into his two legged form, utterly horrifying in his rage. “You dare harm unarmed females?” he roared, eyes blazing red. “Under what authority?!”

There was none. Only their only lust for blood. Azriel remained in his scaled form, lest the humans decide they wanted to be bold. As if any of them could on Cassian, who was twice as big as their tallest human. Cassian crouched, sweeping Emerie up into his arms.

“I could kill you all for this.”

Nesta was watching him, eyes wide. Azriel watched her put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. She whispered, “Please don’t.”

And he knew they would all be spared. Azriel lowered his body, letting Cassian put the wounded Emerie on his back. Gwyn slid on just behind, holding her friend.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, though if she said it to him or to Emerie, Azriel didn’t know. She had nothing to apologize to him for.

She was alive.

He didn’t care about anything else.

“Wait!”

A blonde pushed through the crowd, shaking off an elder males grip. “Please. Please. Take me with you.”

“Morrigan!” the male who’d held her lunged but Morrigan was quicker, dodging his hand to reach Cassian.

“I’ll do anything,” she breathed. “Don’t leave me here.”

Nesta looked up at Cassian. Taking a human woman was risky. If Azriel were in his two-legged form, he might have warned Cassian of this. They’d caused problems today and Azriel knew it. Perhaps Cassian did too when he nodded his head yes.

Azriel huffed out a breath.

And took to the skies.

GWYN:

Emerie was fine by the time they arrived home, smiling whenever Cassian or Azriel weren’t looking at her. She’d agreed to give human Morrigan a place to stay, eyes narrowed at every other male who did a double take at the nervous, trembling blonde. Gwyn imagined Morrigan would be an object of fascination for quite a while—at least, until she had a mate to send the rest of the lurkers skittering away.

Azriel never shifted. He kept his tail curled around her when she slid off his back to help Emerie, all but caging her in. Hazel eyes sifted cerulean when she climbed over the spiked appendage to hug Nesta and Emerie, returning normal only when she touched his snout softly.

One huge wing hid her from view, pushing her closer to his warm body. Was he upset? Gwyn couldn’t tell. She had to wait until the returned home and Azriel finally shifted to know what he was thinking.

There was a wildness to him that two legged form couldn’t touch. Even without those beautiful scales, Azriel would never look human. He closed the door behind them, chest rising and falling rapidly.

“You left,” he whispered, hand holding onto the handle as if it were the only thing keeping him on both feet. “Both of you.”

She didn’t understand. “We went together—”

“You and the baby,” he interrupted softly, eyes sliding down her body to land on her stomach. “You left me.”

Gwyn wanted to cross the four feet of space and touch him. “We were coming back,” she said, guilt swimming in her chest. “I just–”

“Why didn’t you tell me? I would have gone with you.”

“I needed to go by myself,” she whispered, waiting for his yelling. For his rage, the same that had been on display in the village, to erupt out of him. She braced herself for it, straightening her spine.

His anguish intensified. “You couldn’t tell me?” he asked, his voice cracking.

“Would you have let me go?” Gwyn asked him, inching closer. She wanted to touch him so badly, wanted to beg his forgiveness even as she wanted to hold her ground.

It was Azriel who closed the gap between them, who pulled her against his body, holding her so tight her ribs ached.

“If you had to go without me, I would have let you go. I—don’t you know I would do anything for you? Even if it ripped out my own heart?”

She slid her fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry—”

“Don’t be sorry,” he all but moaned, face buried in the crook of her neck. “I only want you to trust me.”

“I do trust you,” she whispered in response, pulling his face up to look at her. “And I am sorry for thinking you were like them. That you’d try and lock me away if you found out about the baby.”

One of his hands slid around her body, pressed against the flat plain to stroke gently. “I don’t own you. You’re my mate, not my prisoner.”

“Forgive me?”

“There is nothing to forgive,” he whispered. “If anything, you should forgive me—”

“For what?” she demanded as he gathered her up against his chest.

“I never wanted you to fear me,” he said, inhaling the scent of her hair.

“You killed them,” she whispered, holding his face in her hands. There was no blood there, either wiped away on their return home or magically removed when he shifted. Gwyn wasn’t sure which. It didn’t matter.

“I would do it again,” he told her softly. “For you? I would do anything.”

“Would you take me to bed?” she asked, despite the sun still shining outside.

Azriel hefted her up in his arms before she could say another word. He wasn’t smiling and oh, how Gwyn wished he would. She knew how, she thought. Azriel set her on the bed, intending to join her, but Gwyn held up a finger.

“I thought this was a pants-free bedroom?” she asked, eyebrows raised.

Azriel paused. “You’re wearing pants,” he reminded her, lips parted. She laid on her back, lifting her hips too suggestively and then with minimal effort, tossed them to the floor.

“And your shirt,” he said, jerking his head upwards.

“Bossy,” she teased, but she did as he asked.

“Lay back,” he continued. “Let me look at you.”

She did as he said, laying naked against a stack of pillows while he stared, head cocked to the side.

“Lovely,” he whispered, divesting himself of his own clothes to join her. Gwyn giggled when, instead of offering her a kiss, he pressed his hear to her stomach.

“Do you hear anything? Is it like the ocean?”

“There is a heartbeat,” he murmured. A beat of silence passed, and then—

“Loud. Strong. That’s good. She’ll need it.”

“She?”

He shrugged, heat creeping up his cheeks.

“How can you be certain?”

“I just know,” he told her, kissing her skin. “You’ll see.”

“And if you’re wrong?”

Azriel smiled.

“I won’t be.”

_ _ _

Baby Catrin was born in the dead of night. Gwyn had been restless that week, pacing the floors as snow piled outside the door. Azriel cleared it each morning, but that night the flakes poured from the sky unrelentlessly. It was a warning, she’d thought, though Gwyn had interpreted it to be an omen.

Azriel was utterly calm, a blessing given how panicked Gwyn was. He didn’t flinch at the blood and didn’t run and hide when she wept with pain. He was steady, the rock she could crash against over and over until finally that little baby arrived, wide-eyed and curious, just like her namesake.

Just as Azriel said she’d be. Soft, brown skin was covered in the most delicate blue scales, just like Azriel’s, and her hair was a thick shock of inky black, like Catrin’s had once been. She peered up at her parents, both exhausted and sweaty on the floor, with the prettiest pair of teal eyes Gwyn had ever seen.

It was Azriel who had murmured, “Catrin,” like the universe had whispered it to him. Gwyn thought she could hear her sister's laughter in that moment, could hear her heavy footsteps on the stairs, racing upwards to take a look.

Azriel looked to the door, too, waiting for those jubilant footsteps to bring the girl herself. Gwyn would have given anything for Catrin to meet her daughter. The laughter died with the phantom feet, clearing the air around Gwyn for the first time in almost sixteen years. She didn’t know how she knew it—only that Catrin was finally gone.

And she was happy, wherever she’d gone.

Gwyn fell asleep sometime close to sunrise, and woke alone in bed. For one moment, she’d been certain she’d dreamt the entire thing—Azriel, their bond, the baby. Even laying in that bed, Gwyn didn’t really believe any of it had been real. Not until she sat up and the throbbing between her legs, and the sound of soft whimpering from below her brought it all back.

Gwyn made her way gingerly down the steps.

“Shhh,” Azriel was whispering, cradling the baby in one arm as he bounced from foot to foot in the living room. The windows were piled with snow, blocking out what little light might come from outdoors. Azriel, shirtless, was letting their daughter hold one of his fingers.

The sight left her breathless.

Death has a heart.

She shifted, the weight of her body causing the floor to creak. His head snapped, expression softening when he saw her. “You’re supposed to be sleeping,” he said, coming towards her with those same, bouncy steps. It was amusing to watch and she couldn’t help but smile.

“How can I sleep when you two are down here?” she asked.

“I suppose we’ll have to join you upstairs, then,” he replied, so obviously happy.

“I’d rather stay down here and watch you two dance,” Gwyn admitted, walking towards the couch. Azriel was quick to blanket her, fussing like an older mother hen. Like a father. Gwyn was practically bursting at the sight.

He plopped down beside her, gingerly handing over the baby so that little rose petal mouth could have breakfast. He watched, eyes round and wide.

“Careful, Az, or people are going to think you’re in love,” she teased.

“I am in love,” he whispered.

“Does this mean you want more?”

He blinked, resting his head on Gwyn’s shoulder. “I don’t need more. She is enough.”

“You’re enough,” Gwyn agreed, lacing her fingers through his own.

And Azriel?

Azriel smiled.

#gwynriel #gwyn x azriel #ugh it feels so good to finish something #dumbass dragon eris is on deck next #we'll see how it goes this week #but OOF #ya girl needs a NAP

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