#azgwyn fanfiction

[mystical-blaise]

ACOWAS Bonus Chapter: JORA (LoA) & HELION

"Since I am in the mood to get befuddled, you are in luck, sire. My name is Jora." "Jora," he said, testing the name on his tongue. He smiled then, bowing to her. By the Cauldron, he was gorgeous, and just looking at him made her heart race. "I am Helion."

This scene has mild spoilers for ACOWAS.

Read ACOWASBonus Scene #2 on Ao3 Read ACOWAS Bonus Scene #2 on Wattpad

Tag list: @hlizr50 @valkyriesbooks @onemorenightdreamer @sv0430 @spinachtz @nyaraoc @quantrelle72 @almosttenaciousmoon @noob-hime @tealnymph24 @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @genya-berdara @gingertaylorswift22 @ashadowednightingale @jenkro1130 @srabergara

[jennierubyjanersblog]

Gwynriel Academic Rivals AU

“Why did you sign up for that Mythology and Folklore class? You’re not even interested in that, Az.”

Azriel wasn’t.

But Berdara was.

~~~~~~

Lately, I’ve been working on a Gwynriel Academic Rivals to Rivals with Benefits to Lovers AU. Still debating whether or not I should post it. But until I decide, I just wanted to let this moodboard and a snipped of it. 🙂

[shadowsingerspriestess]

well, it’s been some time, but I’m back with a little story I had in mind for some time now

it may have a part 2 coming up 👀

you can read it on Ao3 too💕 enjoy! 💖

UPSIDE DOWN

One of the worst things about reading in the garden isn’t the excruciating heat, or the numerous flies buzzing. As far as she is concerned, Gwyn doesn’t mind them. 

No, the worst thing is the shadowsinger training. More precisely, the shadowsinger training with no shirt on. 

Why on the one day Gwyn decides to read outside does the shadowsinger feel like training there? Freaking shirtless? 

“What about the training pit?” Gwyn asked. She was seated comfortably on the chic swing seat, a cup of tea waiting for her on the near table. The book in her lap was a long-awaited toe-curling Sellyn Drake smut Gwyn devoured last night, and had few chapters left of.  

Azriel snorted at her question, wrapping bandages around his hands. Gwyn's tried her best not to stare at his deft fingers, her mind already picturing them parting her lips, rubbing the spot that’d make her see the stars.  

“It reeks of sex.” 

Gwyn didn’t need to know more. She opened her mouth to speak- 

And it stayed open as Azriel, in one smooth movement, peeled his shirt off. 

The torture is still going on. 

Gwyn isn’t bothered by the lack of shirt — and that is the problem. Gwyn can’t function right. Can’t concentrate on anything but Azriel. 

She can’t look away. His muscles flex, and his golden skin gleams with sweat. Gwyn subtly admires the hard planes of his stomach. Her stare intensifies as she notes his sculpted V lines. Warmth that has nothing to do with the weather spreads across her cheeks when her eyes follow the thin line of dark hair leading into the waistband of his pants. 

Cauldron boil her, what a sight to the sore eye he was. 

The garden is all of a sudden too small. Everywhere Gwyn looks, Azriel is there. 

Leaning back into the swing, Gwyn peers over the book from time to time at Azriel. Each time he looks at her, Gwyn’s eyes go back to her book. The words on the page make no sense. Did she really lose her ability to read because of a shirtless Azriel? 

Gwyn’s mouth goes dry as she watches Azriel do push-ups. His arms bulge, his mighty wings pulled back tightly. A bead of sweat trickles down Gwyn’s neck as she pictures what it’d be like being under him, to feel with her hands those strong muscles. To run a finger over the sensitive membrane of his wing, watch his eyes cloud with need and — 

“Is that book of yours boring?”

Gwyn blinks once. Twice. Of course it isn’t. But neither does she remember a single thing she's read since Azriel took off his shirt. 

Still, Gwyn can’t admit it. Her face is, most likely, beet red, yet Gwyn keeps her chin up. She holds the book with one hand, the other bringing the cup to her lips while carefully answering. “Oh, on the contrary. The book is captivating.”

Azriel, who was no longer doing push-ups, cocks a brow at her. “Seems that way.” Azriel hums, though Gwyn doesn’t miss the hint of sarcasm. “Explains why you’ve been ogling me for the past half an hour.”

Her hand stops moving, the cup barely touching her lips. Damn it, he noticed it. Of course he did, he is the fucking spymaster. 

And he also has shadows that must’ve informed him about the few glances she stole. 

Okay, maybe more than a few glances. Probably an excessive amount of.

Still, as if they were summoned, shadows brush her heated skin gently, their cool touch hardly helping with the warmth of her body. 

“Was I ogling?” Gwyn asks. She pretends to contemplate for a couple more seconds, then shrugs irreverently. “You must’ve imagined it.” A small pause, and a wicked grin spreads across her face. “Perhaps you want me to ogle you, Shadowsinger. In that case, sorry to disappoint, but I was hardly looking at you.”

The corner of Azriel’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t reply. Gwyn doesn’t show just how much his smugness affects her. She drifts her attention back to her book, gripping it tightly. Why did the words not make any sense? Why can’t she concentrate on reading? 

Something blocks out the sun. Gwyn looks at the carved-by-the-gods shadowsinger. A tremendous effort to keep eye contact instead of staring at the delicious muscles, close and on full display for Gwyn’s greedy eyes. 

Gwyn clears her throat. “Need a sparring partner? If so, I’m in.”

Azriel looks amused. He crosses his arms over his chest, and stares down at her. With shadows swirling around him, the serious demeanour and all the sexiness radiating from him, Azriel really looks like a god. 

Or straight from one of Sellyn Drake’s novels. 

“What about your captivating book?” All the amusement fades.

Gwyn shrugs. “Wiping that smug smirk off your face when I kick your ass is far more captivating, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel ignores her answer and asks. “What is the book about, anyway?”

Her mind is blank. She can’t remember anything about it, except that it was packed with many sex scenes.

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

A shadow of a smirk teases the corner of Azriel’s mouth. “I doubt there’s anything in that book I wouldn’t understand,”  

Or didn’t try is left unsaid.

Gwyn’s mind jumps to a particular scene involving ropes and blindfolds. Gwyn wonders if Azriel ever used those with his partners. Was he into those things? 

There wasn’t much talk about the shadowsinger’s intimate life; Gwyn once heard Mor mention Azriel had had his fair share of lovers in the past, though he was better at keeping them hidden than his brothers. 

Gwyn didn’t know if she should be disappointed she didn’t know more, or relieved; for whatever reason, the thought of Azriel with other women made Gwyn’s blood boil. 

Gwyn doesn’t notice Azriel reaching out for the book. Only when it slips out of her hold does Gwyn realise. Her eyes widen in terror at whatever scene the book is opened at. Mother, please let it be something tame. 

Azriel’s face stays impassive as his eyes scan the page. His eyebrows shoot up. A low hum rumbles in his chest. “Impressive. I didn’t know your skills go as far as reading upside down, priestess.” 

Gwyn sees it then. The art on the cover, the writing there — they were upside down, as Azriel pointed out. Azriel must’ve noticed from the start, hence his questions about the book. 

Her skin blazes with embarrassment. Insufferable bastard. 

Azriel turns the book and gives it another look. Gwyn snatches it back and slams the novel shut, the sound reverberating around the garden. 

“Long breaks are no good, Shadowsinger. You should go back to your exercises.” Gwyn deflects, trying to cover up her shame with a remark Azriel always has when they train. 

“Indeed, they are not.”

But Azriel does not leave. Of course he does not. Instead, he bents at the waist, gripping the swing seat with a strong hand. Gwyn tries to keep her breath under control, but it is damn hard to do so when the sex-god that was Azriel was inches away from her, his hot breath fanning her face. 

“By the way, priestess,” his voice drops several octaves, making Gwyn’s core pulse. “I am no stranger to ropes and blindfolds in the bedroom.”

Gwyn sucks in her breath at his confession. Her panties are a mess, and she doubts Azriel isn’t aware of it. Boldness Gwyn doesn’t know she possesses surges through her veins. She tilts her chin, mirroring his wicked grin. 

“In that case, I ought to see just how well acquainted you are with ropes and blindfolds in the bedroom.” Her shaky fingers brush the inside of his wrist, and Gwyn feels his thundering pulse under her thumb. “That if you’re not too shy to show me, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel’s eyes go from hers down to her lips. His smirk only widens at her challenge. “Whenever you wish to see, you know where to find me, Berdara.”

With that, Azriel pushes back and heads inside the river house. Gwyn stares after him, her body burning with desire. His words keep playing inside her mind. Dirty fantasies make her clothes too tight on her body. 

Perhaps Gwyn would find Azriel later and see just how skilled he was with ropes and blindfolds in the bedroom.

[meher-sumedha]

Gwynriel Fanfic - I think I lost our bet

Chapter 7 : Feelings

Chapter Synopsis : Gwyn and Az simping for each other. It’s a slow burn people y’all are gonna have to wait, a lot. I’m gonna give you breadcrumbs. ✨✨But dw we get some action...in the next chapter.

————————

Gwyn looked away from his capturing gaze. “Nothing,” she wiped her eyes. “just a bad day,” she lied.

Azriel wanted to push her further. Gwyn wanted someone to push her further. She wanted to tell someone what she was feeling.

I wanted to ask more.

I wanted to tell you.

Gwyn slowly got up and Azriel stopped leaning on her. Immediately feeling the disappointment when Gwyn’s scent wasn’t clouding his senses.

Gwyn just looked down at her hands and started fidgeting with them, playing with her non existent nails. A habit of hers she employed when she was nervous.

Why are you nervous?

I should stop being nervous.

Gwyn took a deep breath in and mumbled, “What are we doing Az?”

Azriel was surprised by the boldness of her question. He knew it was coming, it was only the matter of when.

Azriel sighed and ran his hand through his head.

Say something.

I don’t know what to say.

“Az,” Gwyn whispered, her voice so low that if Azriel wasn’t fae he wouldn’t have been able to hear her. She still wouldn’t look him in the eyes.

Look at me please.

“I want you to touch me.” She said, her voice not hesitating.

Azriel tried to hide his emotions but couldn’t help widening his eyes a bit. He tried to think but his mind was completely blank. But he wanted to know if his definition of touching was the same as hers?

“Do you mean like touch you touch you or just touch you?” Azriel spoke rapidly.

I’ve never said so many words in a sentence.

I’ve never heard him speak so much in one go.

Gwyn finally looked up, a small blush on her cheeks and a small smile on her face.

I made her blush.

I made her smile.

I made her blush.

I made her smile.

The words repeated themselves in Azriel’s mind, and they soothed him, calmed him. A grin broke out of Azriel’s face, the tension now non-existent.

Azriel raised his eyebrow in an almost comical way. “So what’s it gonna be valkyrie?”

And Gwyn chuckled. He could see her trying to hide her smile and blush but loved the fact that she failed.

But then she looked upto him like the brave valkyrie she was, and smirked, “I just want you to touch me shadowsinger. Run your hands all over my body, you know. Touch my ass, my breasts, anything you want. If you’re able to fathom some control, I’d like to be dressed, for now.”

Azriel was surprised by the boldness of her words, but he was never to back down from a challenge. “So shall we get started valkyrie?

[mystical-blaise]

Read it here

And, yes, in case you're wondering, I did design the cover. Here's a close-up. This was so fun to put together!

[mystical-blaise]

ACOWAS Bonus Chapter: CASSIAN POV

So, I'm currently busy with all the holiday jazz and working on an original novel this year (I'm still shocked, but here we go). But from time to time, I need a mental and/or creative break to refocus. I had originally planned on posting some drabble one-shots from others' POVs during ACOWAS. So, don't be shocked if these pop up randomly.

Happy Holidays!

Obviously, this scene has spoilers for ACOWAS.

Read Cassian's POV during Ch. 74 here

Tag list: @hlizr50 @valkyriesbooks @onemorenightdreamer @sv0430 @spinachtz @nyaraoc @quantrelle72 @almosttenaciousmoon @noob-hime @tealnymph24 @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @genya-berdara @gingertaylorswift22 @ashadowednightingale @jenkro1130 @srabergara

[jennierubyjanersblog]

INTIMACY 

well, after some time, I am back with a new chapter. Please be aware of the big warning at the beginning of the chapter!

INTENSITY

WARNING: the chapter involves explicit anal sex. In case you’re uncomfortable with it, I’d recommend skipping this chapter. 

SNIPPET

His words almost sent her over the edge, Gwyn’s spine curving and her ass pushing further against him. “W-what’s holding you back now, then, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn panted shakily.

At her taunting, Azriel’s hips halted, his cock almost out of her. A sinister smirk adorned his handsome, lust-filled face, as Azriel grabbed her cheeks and gently turned her face to look at him. “Am I not fucking you good enough, my dear Gwyneth?”

A shiver ran down her back at his sensual voice, at the dark edge into his words. She bit her lip, aware of what was to come, but her body ached for more. “If you stopped to question this, you got your answer.”

[mystical-blaise]

Dadriel #11: Fear is Not My Future

Azriel reminisces fondly about the past as he simultaneously dreads what the future holds.

Read it on Ao3 here

I haven't posted anything in a while and needed to get this out of my head. Mostly fluff with a little side of emotional hurt/comfort. Enjoy!

Remember this, the shadows used to hum as Azriel held the entire world in his hand. 

Not that he needed their heeding. After all, how could he forget how impeccably both Llyr's and little Catrin's heads fit wholly cupped in the heart of his palm? 

A heartwarming, idyllic match. So miraculously perfect. 

Almost as if the Mother herself had measured his hand's span. Both of the two wriggling babes a wonderfully complicated compliment into his life—just like their mother. 

He'd never forget his first time like this. Seeing them nestled in his hold, was against a background of fuzzy snow-white whirls. The backdrop of a blanket between them.

For a while, he had been nervous to hold them like that soft to marred skin. Worried how the roughness of him would feel against such tender flesh and featherlight wisps of hair. So when he'd often hold them at night when they were newborns, he would with a blanket between them.

And it wasn't until Gwyn had caught him one night, finally realizing what he was doing, that she calmly, gently told him, Remove the barrier, my love. 

Barrier. The word tolled through him like a clear bell of challenge. 

Barrier. It had been years since he'd allowed any between himself and his beloved mate, his friends—or around his hands. He loved the feeling of Gwyn's palm and fingers, now strong and roughened from years of training, against his own. He found comfort and clarity in her touch. Renewed vitality and strength.

And wouldn't his children gain the same?

Fear, uncertainty, were the ultimate hurdle. But eventually, with deep breaths and the shadows and Gwyn's loving support and gentle coaxing, he had held them. One at a time, their tiny, precious heads in his palm, the weight of them in his arms a joy he still couldn't comprehend.

Gods, they had been soft. They'd been so wondrously soft. Like his shadows whispering over him. Like fate and love and magic given form.

Perfect. 

The sweet image of their small heads nestled in the center of his palm as he cradled them was imprinted on his soul, imparted with a promise. 

A promise he thought about every time he glanced at his hand. 

While Gwyn fretted and assessed the twins' lives in reaching milestones, Azriel measured the passing of time by his hand.

The once perfect fit was long gone, Llyr and Catrin not even needing the extra support of it anymore, each of them able to hold themselves, sit on their own. Their inquisitive son was even starting to pull himself up on furniture. 

Catrin was getting there, but she seemed content to allow her brother and others to bring things to her. Which still worried Gwyn, though their family did their best to allay her ruminating.

Don't worry, Berdara. My father often said how late I was at walking—until I saw something I wanted. Catrin is just willfully stubborn, just like her mother. Gwyn had stuck her tongue out at Nesta for that. But, her Valkyrie-sister continued, when she finally sees something she really wants, that little Valkyrie is going to run, not walk. And then you will beg the Mother for her to sit still again. 

And Azriel had little doubt about Nesta's claim. 

Even now in sleep, her ever-growing wings splayed beneath her, spread out as wide as her arms, her forehead was puckered as if she was scheming. Her small rosebud lips with the perfect bow were parted on soft puffed breaths, little snores that reminded him so much of watching Gwyn sleep. Though with her onyx hair, he could only imagine she was the spitting image of her namesake. Apart from her wings and the wavy ringlets in her hair, the little girl was most definitely a Berdara. 

He peered over at the other crib. His son, even with his porcelain skin and copper coloring, was Azriel through and through. A quiet boy, always content to assess a situation before trying. And Azriel swore Llyr was paying close attention to the shadows more now than ever, enough to make the Shadowsinger wonder.

Catrin's pitiful whimper called his attention.

It was a nightly ritual now whenever he was home—when nightmares dragged him from the little sleep his body called for—to check on his family as they slept. 

Safe, Singer. 

Safe. All of them were safe. No demons from his past or enemies of his present were here.

And that had been that promise the first time he'd held them with no barrier between them.

His children would never know the true reality of cold. Never know the bite of shackles on their wrists or ankles. They'd never long for comfort. 

They'd never question if they were loved.

Their safety would always be assured.

Safe to sleep. Safe to dream. Safe to love.

They'd have everything he didn't have. And he'd make sure of it with his last breath.

That was his promise.

And yet…

His knuckle gently smoothed over Catrin's forehead, over her chubby cheek. 

Every day, he compared their heads to his hand. Every day it sunk in that they were bigger, no longer fitting to the dimension. They were growing up. Every day was another day closer to—

Arms circled him from behind, and he stretched his wings aside as a pointy chin rested on his bare left shoulder. He sighed into her, loving to be surrounded by her softness and her scent.

"You all right?" Gwyn asked.

"Yes." He swallowed thickly. "Couldn't sleep. And you?"

"Nightmare," she sighed. His arm encircled her as he kissed her temple. Her soft chuckle caught him off guard. "Just look at them. They're getting so big." 

His throat bobbed, his fingertips and shadows grazing over the peach fuzz of the babe's cheek again. "They are. It seems they are doing new things each day. It's truly remarkable."

"It is. And yet…it worries me."

"Gwyneth Berdara, worried? No. I can't believe such a thing," he teased, earning a little playful nip to his shoulder.

"The more they move, the farther they go, the more dangers await. Cauldron, the House of Wind is built on top of a godsdamn mountain. It suddenly feels like a death trap. I shouldn't even dare blink when they're awake."

"The House won't let anything happen to them, love. Neither will we."

"Still, I'd feel better if we need to take precautions. Be proactive. Cover corners, secure doors and knobs. Gates around the stairs and fencing off the training ring." She eyed him. "How would you feel about covering the tips of your wings?"

Azriel snorted. "Gwyn, I love you and your creative mind, but there's no way in hell. Illyrians have had babies forever and I haven't read one single instance of eyes getting poked out by wing tips."

"If you insist." She exhaled, her eyes taking in the dozing girl in the crib. The shadowsinger tightened his hold on his mate. "Does it…does it make you a little sad, too?"

His lips twitched. His clever copper-headed wife always saw straight through to the heart of the matter. "It does."

"I don't know what I'm going to do when they leave to be on their own one day," she confided, her mouth trembling slightly against his collar. "Though I guess it's silly to think about right now, one day they'll be starting their own lives. It'll be up to them. They won't need us."

He kissed her again, tugging her ever closer to him, glancing between their sleeping children. "We'll always be there for them. And it's not silly in the slightest. I am, too. I think perhaps it's the nature of parenthood. The blessing of children comes with the curse of constant worry about what they will face, what the future holds. The perils. The heartache. I just…I don't want them to feel a moment of pain."

And he wouldn't be able to bear it. Because that was the risk of letting down barriers of the heart and soul—it left one vulnerable to the worst heartbreak, the greatest pain imaginable. 

The tactile fear of losing it all after he'd finally allowed himself to feel, to accept.

A panic he used to solely place on Gwyn and now…

"I wish I could relieve your fears and mine, Shadowsinger. But…it's not practical." He peered down at his lovely beauty, falling immediately into the teal orbs staring up through heavy lashes. "Some pain is simply a part of life. The elation and happiness of first loves, families and friendships can't be had without risk. Without having faith. Because you go in knowing that things could end with heartache and loss. I don't imagine the fear will ever abate. But it's worth it to experience love, is it not?"

He didn't take his eyes off of Gwyn, remembering all the times he almost lost her, had seen and felt her pain and dread. How he'd witnessed her drift away from him after the birth of their children. Hell, forget about battle; he'd been more terrified of losing her on the birthing bed—and their twins. 

Yet she was here. Now. They all were.

And he would relive his haunted past over again if it meant he'd end up right here.

Arm still wound around Gwyn, his fingertips left his daughter's brow to tip up his mate's freckled face. He'd memorized it long ago, each freckle as familiar as his own scars. And as he stared down, felt the touch of her skin against his own, without linen or fear between them, he dipped his face down and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

Every kiss was a blessing. 

Every touch was a miracle. 

Every fear was worth living. 

The love for his family was worth everything. A love he would hold forever in his heart and carried in the palm of his hand.

[mystical-blaise]

Heart of the Matter Chapter 6 is up!

Those thick brows intersected with white scars lowered, those hard eyes lightened. "That girl in there just had the scare of her life and she's in shock. She needs you to be there for her and help her through it all. How in the hell are you gonna do when you're all locked up, blaming yourself for something outside of your control? How are you gonna help her if you run?"

So, apparently, I didn't realize this chapter is 6.6k LOL. It's angsty, y'all. Just not in the way you think. Last chapter tomorrow...a maybe a little Elucien one-shot surprise bonus scene.

[mystical-blaise]

Heart of the Matter Chapter 3 is up!

"Cass, tell me you did not put that on paper." An indignant gasp. "I most certainly did! Look, I'm no Bill Shakespeare, but I think Nesta will appreciate my rhyming efforts. It's already on the card in a sealed envelope. There's no going back."

[mystical-blaise]

read give me your heart for Christmas once again this year and it’s making me feel all kinds of warm and fluffy 🥹

Hi, anon! Yay! That makes me so happy! I had so much fun writing that fic. 🎄💘😍 It warms my grinchy heart to know people are still reading it this holiday season.

[mystical-blaise]

A Court of Whispers and Song Chapter 75 is up!

That's it. The last one. That's all she wrote. I can't thank you all enough for your love and support. You all motivated me to be a better writer. I only hope I did Gwyn and Azriel's characters justice.

Read it on AO3 | Read it on Fanfiction.net

Tag list: @hlizr50 @valkyriesbooks @onemorenightdreamer @sv0430 @spinachtz @nyaraoc @quantrelle72 @almosttenaciousmoon @noob-hime @tealnymph24 @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @daevastanner @genya-berdara @gingertaylorswift22 @ashadowednightingale @jenkro1130 @srabergara

[mystical-blaise]

A Court of Whispers and Song Chapter 73 is up!

‘Not suspicious at all,’ the shadows chimed in with their infinite wisdom while he was busied himself in the pile of grimy clothes. Finding a pair of relatively clean sleep pants, he slipped them on. ‘That’s what you’re wearing, Shadowsinger? This is going to be a disaster,’ they hummed, judging. Their master rolled his eyes. ‘Not helping. But if you truly wish to, then go distract her or something!

Only two left! Chapter 74 will be uploaded tomorrow!

Read it on AO3 | Read it on Fanfiction.net

Tag list: @hlizr50 @valkyriesbooks @onemorenightdreamer @sv0430 @spinachtz @nyaraoc @quantrelle72 @almosttenaciousmoon @noob-hime @tealnymph24 @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @daevastanner @genya-berdara @gingertaylorswift22 @ashadowednightingale @jenkro1130 @srabergara

[mystical-blaise]

A Court of Whispers and Song Chapter 71 is up!

“That’s it. Yes, this juicy, delicious apple is for you, good boy.” Good boy? Azriel bristled at the sentiment. The good boy walked over to where the Valkyrie was perched. “Gwyn, if that beast bites you, it’s your own damn fault.”

Only a few left! Chapter 72 will be uploaded tomorrow!

Read it on AO3 | Read it on Fanfiction.net

Tag list: @hlizr50 @valkyriesbooks @onemorenightdreamer @sv0430 @spinachtz @nyaraoc @quantrelle72 @almosttenaciousmoon @noob-hime @tealnymph24 @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @daevastanner @genya-berdara @gingertaylorswift22 @ashadowednightingale @jenkro1130 @srabergara

[mystical-blaise]

A Court of Whispers and Song Chapter 70 is up!

Taking his shadows’ unsolicited advice, Azriel offered, “A truth for a truth.”  Leaning back, Gwyn blinked up at him in confusion. “What?”  Azriel’s lips twitched, his hands continuing to stroke her back. “A truth for a truth. You tell me one and I tell you another. Unless you’re not up to play?"

Only a few more left! Chapter 71 will be uploaded tomorrow!

Read it on AO3 | Read it on Fanfiction.net

Tag list: @hlizr50 @valkyriesbooks @onemorenightdreamer @sv0430 @spinachtz @nyaraoc @quantrelle72 @almosttenaciousmoon @noob-hime @tealnymph24 @ximena-inlovewithazwyn @daevastanner @genya-berdara @gingertaylorswift22 @ashadowednightingale @jenkro1130 @srabergara

[mystical-blaise]

Hand To Hold

Just some more Dadriel. Enjoy!

Five-years-old…

Azriel would never forget the day Catrin came home, tears streaming over her inflamed cheeks. Her shadows trailing behind her like tufts of dark smoke on a steady breeze. His own shadows had darted around hers before reporting to him.

‘They hurt her feelings.’

His fists clenched at his sides, which he immediately rectified. Although it was tough. The shadowsinger wanted to shelter and protect those he loved beyond all else. No matter what. For five years, they’d cocooned their daughter in their family, their friends. Some may say sheltered, but he would say protected. Gwyn had been the one to suggest they send Catrin to school.

“It’s taught by the priestesses, with a few of the children who live amongst them. Catrin will benefit from spending time with kids her own age who aren’t her cousins."

Why had he let his mate convince him this was a good idea?

‘Because you wouldn’t say no either way,’ his shadows snickered. The shadowsinger rolled his eyes—because it was the truth.

Azriel squatted down and opened his arms to Catrin, who launched herself at him, wrapping her small arms around his neck so tight, he could barely breathe. He was mindful to wrap her up without annoying her little wings.

“Hey, what’s wrong, my little shadow?”

His little shadow. A nickname he gave her when she was around two and barely left his side after she learned to walk. Even when he was being stealthy, he’d spin around, and there she was. A tiny spy in training. And, like her mother, his shadows never alerted him of her presence unless danger was afoot.

Catrin’s tears soaked the collar of his navy shirt, her back jerking with the wracking sobs. The sound caused his heart to tinge in grief. His hands eased up and down the column of her spine between her wings. He kissed her temple.

“Talk to me, Catrin. Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.”

Soon enough, her cries became mere whimpers. She wiped her nose on his shoulder before she pulled back. Her cheeks and eyes were puffy and crimson. Her brilliant turquoise eyes were wet and glistening with tears left unshed. Eyes so much like her mother’s.

“There’s my girl,” he said, attempting her a soothing grin as he wiped away a lingering tear with his thumb. “Now, tell me what’s going on?”

She looked unsure, nibbling her lower lip with a nervous habit she shared with Gwyn. His lips twitched.

“Papa, is my hand weird or ugly?”

His shadows froze, and the breath snagged in his chest.

Azriel wasn’t naïve. He was hoping for more time, but he realized it was coming. More time to feel secure and hold her unwavering confidence. Her cousins never made a significant deal out of her left hand. Nyx barely made an utterance, though he was years older and knew better. Nesta and Cassian’s daughter, who was around the same age, made mention once.

Astrid, who just turned three, reached for Catrin's left hand and asked, “Why are your fingers like that?”

Catrin shrugged. “I was born this way.”

Astrid merely nodded and snatched her hand before running off to play.

That was that. Simple question, straightforward explanation. Best buddies.

But Azriel had spoken with Gwyn about his apprehension of Catrin attending school. He understood the persecution of having a visible difference. The cruelty of children. That words could cut as deep as a blade. Burn as intense and brutal as flame. He recalled what it felt like to be seen as… different. And the effects had been long-lasting, affecting him for damn near his whole life until recently.

And he couldn’t bear for his little one to suffer any of that. He would willingly jump in front of it, block her from it. Perhaps a surprise visit from the Spymaster to imbue some healthy fear was in order…

‘Shadowsinger, our little girl is waiting for your answer.’

Azriel blinked back to the task, meeting that searching gaze, so much older and wiser than perhaps he gave her credit for.

“No, your hand is not weird or ugly, Catrin. Where is this coming from?”

She sniffed. He tucked an unruly strand of onyx hair that had slipped her pigtails behind her rounded ear. “A girl at school. She said they were ugly and gross.”

His hand froze on her cheek. Was it irrational to want to go after a five-year-old?

‘Quite, Shadowsinger.’

He sighed, adjusting his legs with one knee bent. He then gently lifted his daughter onto his knee.

“Catrin, look at me.” When she wouldn’t, he lifted her chin with a finger. “What has Momma told you about your hand?”

“That Auntie Catrin had them too.”

“And?”

Catrin shrugged.

“Momma always tells how bright and brave your Aunt Catrin was. She didn’t let anybody speak poorly to her about her hands. And that’s why we named you after her.”

She nodded, angling her head. “Did you ever meet her?”

Az shook his head, his eyes never straying for hers. “No, I never had the privilege.” He paused, thinking of how to fix this. Cauldron, why was Gwyn at work. He could really use her sage advice and gift of gab right now. His siphons flared at his sudden idea. “Can I ask you a question?”

“I guess.”

He smiled at that and lifted a hand, the ridges of his scarred palm facing her. “Do you think my hands are ugly?”

Catrin didn’t miss a beat, didn’t waste a moment before she said, “No.”

“And why?”

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “They’re just your hands.”

The shadowsinger nodded. He’d never told her how his hands became this way, that unlike hers, he wasn’t born this way. A conversation to be had when she was a bit older.

“Exactly. And your hand,” he grabbed, interweaving her webbed fingers on her tiny left hand with her own. “And these are yours. It’s who we are and you are beautiful, Catrin. You are incredibly smart. And joyful. Do you know the day you were born was one of the best days of my life?”

“Really?! Besides meeting Momma?”

He dipped his chin. “Yes. You being born may beat that day. Just don’t tell her.”

His beloved daughter’s answering giggle unlaced the knot around his chest.

“Did people ever talk about your hands?” she asked him point-blank.

“Yes.”

“Did it hurt your feelings sometimes?”

“Yes.”

She squeezed his hand, and he crushed back.

“I’m sorry people were mean to you, Papa,” she said, her face solemn, those freckles on her pale cheeks stark and her eyes bitter. Her own shadows thickened, a manner she inherited from himself.

“And I’m so sorry those girls were nasty to you, Catrin. No one should make you feel awful. We must all be aware of our words, right?” She nodded. “I expect I’ll have your mother speak with the priestesses and let them know what they said. Your Momma is much scarier than me, anyway.”

Catrin’s laugh was like a tinkling wind chime in the breeze. She pulled her hand away, her webbed fingers tenderly tracing the whirls in his palm.

“Papa, I love your hands,” she said, planting a kiss in the center.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he lifted her little hand and kissed the center of hers.

“And I love yours, my little shadow.”

“You know what would make me feel better, Papa?”

As Azriel placed her on her own two feet, he took her hand. “What?”

“Chocolate… maybe some ice cream.”

He snorted. So much like her mother, indeed.