writ-by-britt - Tumblr blog

writ-by-britt · 5 months

Text

Old Wounds: Part 1

Masterlist

AO3

Summary: Gwyneth was Velaris University's star swimmer. . . emphasis on was. After a nasty rotator cuff injury, she's been ordered to take the rest of the season off and attend weekly physical therapy sessions, which is less than ideal considering her whole college education is funded by an athletic scholarship. It isn't all bad though. She has PT at the same time as a very intimidatingly attractive soccer player, and much to Gwyn's surprise, they've got quite a bit in common. But between work, school, her physical therapy, and continuing to support the swim team, Gwyn has no time to be crushing on anyone. Not to mention said hot soccer player is part of a rival friend group and he doesn't seem remotely interested in Gwyn at all. What's a girl to do.

~*~

Thanks so much for being here! This is my first ever fic for ACOTAR and I'm super excited to be participating in fandom for once. A bit of set-up with this first chapter but this might end up being a bit of a slow burn.

Future updates are currently scheduled for Tuesdays at 12:00pm CST here and on AO3.

I hope you enjoy!

"Take your mark."

Gwyneth Berdara exhaled the breath in her lungs. Her body bent over the podium, her feet tensed, ready to propel her forward.

Bzzzzt!

She inhaled as she pushed off.

Gwyn barely felt the water as it enveloped her, her form knifing through. She broke the surface, taking a deep but quick breath before submerging her head once again. It was only a few seconds before she saw the approaching wall. She tucked her chin towards her chest, her feet sailing over head before coming into contact with the concrete wall of the pool.

And then she was flying again.

At least that's what it felt like when Gwyn swam; like she was soaring, completely unencumbered by gravity as she flew through the water; like she was weightless.

But, Gwyn was competing right now, and as much as she loved taking her time and gliding through the water, she also loved winning. Her head broke the surface again, her arms reaching forward to pull her towards victory. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted splashing to her left, the swimmer from Adriata University must be only milliseconds behind her.

Gwyn tucked again, turning in the water, and pushed as hard as she could to propel herself for another lap, her arms and legs beginning to burn with the effort. It was a good burn, the kind of burn that told Gwyn she was pushing her body to its very limits, reaching beyond what she should be capable of, pushing herself towards a win.

"Come on Gwynnie, try to catch me," whispered a familiar voice in her head, and so Gwyn pushed on and pushed harder.

There were two laps left and she could feel her body begging her to stop, to rest, but she plowed through every mental block, focused only on how she could eek every last bit of speed and strength out of her muscles.

Then the pain hit.

It was a sudden and shooting pain that went screaming through her left shoulder as she tried to bring it over her head. Her arm hit the water with a dull thud, as though it had been sapped of all its strength.

The swimmer from Adriata in the lane next to her moved ahead, so Gwyn pushed on. She threw as much power as she could muster into every single stroke of her right arm and tried to get her left arm to cooperate as much as possible, but every little movement sent a new wave of pain coursing through her shoulder.

With each passing moment, she felt the other swimmers pass her as her momentum slowed to a crawl. Finally, what felt like a lifetime later, her right hand touched the concrete of the pool wall and the race was over.

Gwyn didn't even want to turn and look at the scoreboard or acknowledge the comically large number that no doubt followed her name. Her arm was hot and aching but the agony was being overtaken by an anger that was slowly consuming her. She wanted to scream and cry. She wanted to hit something; the water perhaps or one of the swimmers in the adjacent lanes.

Instead, she swallowed hard, bit back the emotions threatening to boil over, and turned to face the results. Just as she suspected, the scoreboard indicated a horrifically large number in bright red letters next to her name. It wasn't quite as bad as she thought, even with her injured arm she somehow managed fifth place, not podium-worthy but at least she wasn't dead last. The swimmer from Adriata had overtaken her and gotten first. In the name of good sportsmanship, Gwyn turned to the swimmer now beaming with pride. She swam up to their lane dividers and shook hands. She did the same with the swimmer to her right who had taken second.

She heard hurried footsteps approaching the edge of the pool and looked up to see the concerned faces of Velaris Valkyries Swim Team captain and co-captain; Nesta Archeron and Emerie Windhaven.

Nesta crouched down and asked quietly, "Is it your rotator cuff?"

"I think so."

Nesta extended an arm. "Let's get you out of there."

Gwyn took Nesta's arm with her good one, letting the left one dangle uselessly at her side. She planted her feet on the edge of the pool to gain some leverage and used Nesta to haul herself out of the water.

Once on solid ground Emerie threw a towel around her shoulders and gave her back a reassuring rub. "Come on, medics are waiting for you."

Nesta joined Emerie in ushering Gwyn away from the poolside, and she was glad for the excuse to leave. The thought of standing there and listening to the other swimmers receive their medals made her stomach churn.

~*~

Gwyn's check-in with the medic at the meet did not go as she had hoped, but the way her shoulder screamed at her every time she moved hadn't given her much to hope for in the first place. Nonetheless, the look on the medic's face as she examined Gwyn's shoulder and the recommendation that she see their University's sports medicine doctor as soon as possible hit her in the stomach like a ton of bricks.

Worries began to float around her like a tempest, a barrage of "what ifs."

She stayed quiet through the rest of the swim meet and for the entirety of the drive back to Velaris's campus. Nesta and Emerie didn't leave her side if they could help it, and while she didn't feel like talking, she appreciated their presence.

Once back on campus the three of them trekked across the dark and quiet quad to Gwyn and Emerie's dorm room. Upon entering the dorm Gwyn fell face-first into the futon she and Emerie had shoved under Gwyn's lofted bed.

Gwyn felt the futon shift as someone sat next to her, their gentle hands moving her feet aside. "Oh Gwynnie," Emerie sighed.

Across the room, Nesta turned on the lights. "Alright, I'm ordering pizza," she declared. "Gwyn, what kind do you want?"

With Gwyn's face buried in the pillows, her reply came out muffled. "I'm not hungry."

"You are too."

Still face down, Gwyn shook her head.

"Gwyneth Berdara, I've seen you devour whole pizzas after meets."

Gwyn turned on her side to face Nesta. "I don't feel like eating anything right now."

"Your stomach may not want to eat, but trust me, your soul does. And nothing heals a soul wound like pizza. You want veggie?"

Gwyn sighed, then admitted her defeat, "Yeah."

"Veggie it is. Em, meat lovers?"

"Gods, yes please. I'm starving. Don't worry Gwynnie if you can't eat your pizza, I will."

Gwyn cracked a small smile. If she couldn't swim, at least she had her friends.

When Nesta had finished placing their order, she walked over to the couch and crouched in front of Gwyn, bringing them eye level with each other.

"How you holding up Berdara? How does your shoulder feel?"

"My shoulder's fine." That wasn't entirely true, her shoulder hurt like a motherfucker, although it wasn't quite as bad as when she was trying to swim with it.

"Mhm. And what about you, how do you feel?"

Gwyn really couldn't answer that. She felt a lot of things; frustrated, angry, disappointed, sad, guilty. She couldn't get herself to verbalize any of the emotions swirling around in her brain or the millions of questions that had followed her home, so she just gave Nesta a half-shrug with her good shoulder.

"Do you wanna skip class tomorrow? We can play hooky, have a late breakfast. I'll walk you to your doctor's appointment."

"I can't, I have Professor Merrill's class tomorrow, she'll kill me if I skip." Honestly, Gwyn could use the distraction. Professor Merrill's classes were always tedious and having a class that required her full, undivided attention meant that Gwyn had at least two hours where she didn't have to think about what the campus doctor was going to say about her shoulder. She felt her whole college career hanging in the balance. She was both dreading that appointment and insanely anxious for its arrival.

"What about after the appointment?"

"I've got a shift at The Pegasus that afternoon."

"We'll come keep you company," Emerie chimed in.

"You can tell us all about what the Doctor said and we can come up with a game plan."

Gwyn smiled at that. Nesta was Captain of the Valkyries for a reason. She could always be counted on to come up with a plan, a battle strategy. Even when Gwyn felt like she was floundering, she could always rely on Nesta to figure something out.

Emerie pulled up one of their favorite rom coms and Nesta jogged down to the dorm lobby to retrieve their food. After a bit of coaxing from the others, Gwyn took a large bite of the extra cheesy veggie pizza warming her lap. She wasn't sure that Nesta was right about the pizza healing her soul, but she realized just how hungry she was when hot, delicious cheese hit her tongue. She spent the rest of the movie devouring her slices and bantering with Emerie and Nesta. Usually, they'd spend the evening after a competition doing all the shit-talking they were too professional to do during the meet, but tonight Emerie and Nesta steered the conversation around the movie playing in front of them. Gwyn was happy to play along and forget the whole day for a bit, forget that her whole world was hanging in the balance, hinging on the well-being of her damn left shoulder. But when Nesta left for her own room, and she and Emerie crawled into their beds, the thoughts began to swarm her again. Gwyn lay on her back, staring at the little glow-in-the-dark stars she and Emerie had stuck all over their ceiling. Tracing the shapes and lines of the constellations they'd so carefully arranged wasn't enough of a distraction from the symphony of worry threatening to drown every other thought out as the "what ifs," flooded back in.

"What if my shoulder doesn't heal in time for next season?"

"What if I can't continue to compete?"

"What if I lose my athletic scholarship?'

"What if Nesta, Emerie, and I stop hanging out because I'm not on the team?"

"What if my shoulder never recovers?"

"What if. . ."

"What if. . . "

"What if I never swim again?"

That last thought broke through the symphony, like the loud tolling of a death knell. A knot of fear tightened in her stomach, hard as stone.

A memory floated through the anxiety and breaking through the surface was a six-year-old Gwyn and her twin sister, Catrin. They were fraternal, not identical, and most people could never tell they were twins anyway, especially not when they appeared so different. Catrin was all stoic seriousness, her short-cropped brown hair did nothing to hide the sharp angles of her face or the near-constant frown she wore. Gwyn on the other hand was all laughter and giggles, her wild coppery hair hung long, often trailing behind her like a banner as she ran wild. Most people assumed Catrin was older the way she took care of them. Technically, they weren't wrong. Catrin had preceded Gwyn's birth by mere minutes. And the way Catrin mothered them when their own mother was too absent or inattentive to do it herself, she could see why people thought that.

This particular memory found Gwyn bolting out of the house the second their mother had opened the back door. It wasn't the first time they had been allowed to swim in the river behind their house, but it was the earliest memory Gwyn had of it.

"Gwyn, wait!" Catrin called after her.

Gwyn's laughter peeled through the air as she tore through the grass in the backyard. She barely slowed down as the river bank approached and when she entered the water her feet made loud plunking noises that echoed off the trees surrounding her. Catrin appeared a few moments later, stepping carefully through a break in the foliage.

"You're going to twist an ankle," Catrin commented.

"Just come in already!" Gwyn shouted back.

Catrin grinned, any trace of seriousness gone from her face, which often happened when it was just the two of them. Her smile widened as she waded into the river to join her sister.

The rest of that day had been filled with races up and down the river and pretending to be mermaids with magic powers. Gwyn always made herself a siren. She would sun herself on a large boulder that broke the river's surface and sing all of her favorite songs. In her fantasies she was powerful enough to lure twin princes to her and her sister's domain, they would be handsome and rich and immediately fall in love with the girls. Then, their princes would take them back to their kingdom, make them princesses, and Gwyn would never have to see the house that was hidden just beyond the tree line again.

That's how most of their days were spent, especially during the hot, humid summers when there was little else to do. While Gwyn was an excellent swimmer, some might say the best on the Valkyries, Catrin had always been just a little bit stronger, braver, always a little bit faster. It never bothered Gwyn though, it felt right. She followed Catrin doing laps in the river just as she had followed her out of the womb. Gwyn would have followed her sister anywhere, but in high school, Catrin had left, and Gwyn couldn't follow. Swimming was one of the few things that made Gwyn feel truly connected to her sister anymore. When Gwyn swam, she felt her sister's spirit beside her, soaring through the water, always just out of Gwyn's reach. She suspected that was the reason she was the fastest swimmer on The Valkyries, she was still trying to catch Catrin. Maybe if she swam fast enough, caught up to her, Catrin would stay this time. If Gwyn couldn't swim anymore she worried she'd lose that connection to her sister. Five years after Catrin's death and there were already bits and pieces she was starting to forget; her sister's distinct smell and the reassuring feeling of Catrin's hand in hers. If she couldn't do the one thing that kept her sister's memory alive, Gwyn worried she'd begin to lose more; the sound of Catrin's laugh or the shape of her face. She worried that even her memories of Catrin would begin to fade. Gwyn didn't want to stop swimming, and she didn't want to forget her twin.

Fears, worries, and more memories continued to plague Gwyn through the night, robbing her of sleep. Eventually, in the early hours of the morning, exhaustion dragged her under into blissful, dreamless unconsciousness.

~*~

Gwyn hated the way the stupid, thin paper felt scratchy against her bare legs. Every shift of her body against the examining table made an irritating crinkling noise, but even such a grating sound wasn't enough for her to stop the nervous bounce of her foot. She'd spent the last half an hour letting the head of sports medicine poke and prod at her aching shoulder and hoping she wasn't going to up-chuck the minimal breakfast she'd been able to choke down before class.

She'd managed to stave off most of the "what-ifs" this morning mainly thanks to Professor Merrill who was extremely unhappy with the research assignments everyone had turned in last week. Most of their class time was spent on a lecture entailing the proper procedures for MLA formatting and citations. She later learned from her classmates that the inciting incident for this lecture was one student who had accidentally listed an author with a last name starting with "Ap" after an author whose last name started with "At."

As refreshing a break as Professor Merrill's anger was, the gut-turning anxiety that kept her up all last night returned full force as soon as she stepped out of the classroom.

"Alright Gwyneth, I have good news and I have bad news." The doctor was furiously typing something into the computer in front of him as he spoke, his back to Gwyn. She wanted him to turn around, so she could try and read her fate on his face.

Instead, she settled for a rather shaky reply, "O-okay."

He turned around with a small smile on his face, clearly trying to ease the tension. "Let's start with the bad news. I can't let you compete for the rest of the season." Gwyn felt her heart drop into her stomach. "The good news," he continued, "Is that the tear is fairly small, and with enough rest, ice, and a diligent physical therapy regimen, you should be clear to return to competition next season." Gwyn felt her whole body relax, if she hadn't been sitting already, she was pretty sure that her legs would have given out from under her. She would swim again. She would compete again. Her life as she knew it wasn't over. The situation wasn't ideal, (ideally, Gwyn wouldn't have fucked up her shoulder in the first place) but compared to the doom and gloom scenarios her brain had been running through the past few days, this prognosis was manageable.

The appointment ended with the doctor running through a list of things Gwyn couldn't do so she didn't injure her shoulder further, a few things she should do to help with the healing, and a prescription for meds to help keep swelling and pain down. Finally, there was the business card for the school's physical therapist and the caveat that she should contact them and make an appointment as soon as possible.

When Gwyn walked out of the appointment, she by no means felt light or happy, but her brain felt quiet. And that was more than enough for her.

~*~

Right after her appointment, Gwyn had a shift at The Pegasus, the University's combo cafe and bookstore. Gwyn worked the bookstore part of the cafe, which usually meant hanging out behind the counter and waiting for students to decide to buy one of the overpriced textbooks that filled the majority of the shelves.

Today was slow. Slower than slow. Every student that walked through the doors beelined for the cafe and promptly left once they got their order. Normally, Gwyn loved it when the store was slow. She would browse the book selections, trying to find something she hadn't read yet, or she'd use the computer behind the counter to work on homework, usually for Professor Merrill's class. Today, all Gwyn could think about was getting to work on healing her shoulder. That wasn't something she could actively do until her first physical therapy appointment tomorrow, which she'd set up the second she left the doctor's office.

She instead passed the time reading and re-reading the shoulder care instructions the doctor had given her. When Nesta and Emerie walked in twenty minutes later she had the instructions committed to memory.

"So, what's the news?" Nesta asked, leaning forward on the counter.

"I'm out for the rest of the season, but with rest and PT I should be back next year."

"That's not so bad," Emerie chimed in.

"No, definitely not as bad as it could have been. I am bummed I won't be able to finish the season though."

"You're still gonna come to all the competitions, right?"

"You think Coach'll let me?"

"Of course she will! And if she doesn't, well we are her Captain and Co-Captain, I'm sure we could wear her down."

"Thanks guys."

Emerie slipped around the corner and pulled Gwyn into a side hug. "Of course Gwynnie, it's not the team without you."

"Okay, now that we know Gwyn's career isn't dead in the water. No pun intended." Nesta began. "I was thinking that we need a little girls' time this weekend, and I mean a full-on weekend. Dinner, dancing, drinks."

"Here, here!" Emerie agreed.

"I don't know," Gwyn pondered. "I'm starting physical therapy tomorrow and I just. . . I don't know if I'll be in the mood."

"Fair enough, but we have spent the past four weekends in track pants, swim caps, and bathing suits. I think, at the very least, we owe it to ourselves to get pampered and get at least one drink. If we aren't feeling it, we can leave after that."

Gwyn chewed her lip, pondering the proposition. Going out was already a bit of a chore for Gwyn who was a self-styled homebody. With all the stress of the last twenty-four hours, she couldn't imagine mustering the energy for a night out anytime soon.

"I think it'll be a lot of fun and I think we could use it, you especially," said Emerie.

It was only Monday. It was entirely feasible that she'd have more energy by Friday. How could she say no when her friends were looking at her so expectantly? And Nesta was right. They had all been working so hard the past month. Gwyn's injury shouldn't keep her friends from enjoying a weekend of freedom, so she caved. "Okay, but just one drink."

"Yes!" Emerie fist-punched the air.

At that moment the chime on the bookshop door chimed and all three Valkyries looked up to see who was walking in.

Nesta groaned.

Striding through the doors of The Pegasus like they owned the place was The Bat Pack, a group of primarily soccer players from the University of Illyria at Velaris. Their team captain, Rhysand, was the one currently leading their little group through the door. Rhys's prowess on the soccer field and unquestionable good looks made him a semi-celebrity around campus. Girls had been throwing themselves at him since his freshman year and up until very recently he had graciously accepted their offers. The reason he had abandoned his playboy ways was currently hanging on his arm and giggling. Her name was Feyre Archeron and she was Nesta's little sister.

Gwyn knew that it bothered Nesta that her sister was dating Rhys. For what reason, Gwyn wasn't sure. There was kind of an age gap with Rhys being a Junior and Feyre being a Freshman, but Gwyn didn't think Nesta's displeasure stemmed from any sort of sisterly protectiveness. Their relationship wasn't very. . . affectionate. Watching Nesta and Feyre interact was like watching two coworkers attempt polite small talk at the water cooler. Their middle sister, Elain, was often the buffer between them. Elain, however, was studying abroad in Montesere this year leaving the other two Archerons, and all of their friends, to deal with the awkwardness themselves. Gwyn speculated that the animosity may have stemmed from some type of sisterly jealousy, but she couldn't be sure, and she definitely wasn't qualified to psychoanalyze Nesta, or any of the Archerons for that matter. They were their own special breed of traumatized.

The rest of The Bat Pack weren't much better. Mor was Rhysand's cousin and probably one of the most stunning women Gwyn had ever seen. Tall and leggy with golden blonde hair, she strutted around campus with the same sort of easy arrogance that Rhys had; as though the world belonged to them and them alone. Their attitude must have run in the family. Mor didn't appear to be with them at the moment and neither was her best friend, Amren, an intimidating linguistics major with an indifferent glare that could give Professor Merrill's stern looks a run for their money.

The other two men that made up Rhys's little group, both soccer players, were currently flanking him and Feyre. The largest and most obvious was the team's co-captain, Cassian. Tall and muscular, he cut an imposing figure against the small door frame of the bookstore. On the soccer field, he could be downright terrifying, but right now with a wide smile plastered across his face and a booming laugh emitting from his chest, he seemed as scary as a puppy. Gwyn was pretty sure his presence annoyed Nesta even more than Rhys or Feyre. Cassian was flirty and he particularly loved flirting with Nesta. She wouldn't tolerate any of it which only seemed to egg Cassian on more. Gwyn and Emerie had a pool going on when the two of them were going to hook up. Emerie's money was on the end of this semester. Gwyn thought Nesta's stubbornness would hold out until at least the end of their Senior year.

The final member of their little posse was easy to miss if you weren't paying attention. Azriel was much quieter than the rest of the group and he didn't seem to possess the same arrogance or boisterous nature as his compatriots. Sometimes, Gwyn would catch him looking detached from it all, as though he were just observing his friends. Gwyn herself had observed him on a number of occasions. Freshman year they'd had an English class together. He was usually quiet but when he had something to say it was always thoughtful and intelligent. Gwyn had always admired that about him. Her nervous freshman self always seemed to stutter and stumble her way through her answers, no matter how confident in them she was. A few times she wondered if the stuttering was sometimes caused by Azriel. He was just as handsome as the others—warm hazel eyes, dark hair, and a brooding presence that Gwyn found magnetic. Of course, any attraction to him fizzled out the second she remembered who his friends were.

It wasn't that The Valkyries hated The Bat Pack by any means, it was just that they always seemed to be wherever The Valkyries were. Their volume was never respectable and interrupted whatever The Valkyries were trying to concentrate on, and Feyre and Rhys' presence always soured Nesta's mood. Really, they were just a nuisance.

Today, The Bat Pack's laughter came to a crashing halt when they realized they were being glared at by the three Valkyries.

Feyre was the first to break the uncomfortable silence. She smiled cordially and then acknowledged her sister. "Nesta."

Nesta didn't return the smile. "Feyre."

"We're just going to be over here." Feyre gestured towards a small grouping of sofas and cushy armchairs tucked between a few bookshelves.

"Okay."

The Bat Pack began moving towards the seats, a small laugh broke out from one of the group, Gwyn was pretty sure it was Cassian. Nesta rolled her eyes and the Valkyries went back to their conversation.

"So, as we were saying," Emerie started. "Drinks at Rita's on Friday after classes?"

"Why Rita's?" Nesta practically whined the question. "That's where they hang out." She jerked her head sharply at the group whose volume had returned to its usual annoying level.

"Exactly. They infringe on our sanctum all the time, we should return the favor."

"Oh, that's petty. I like that." Nesta purred.

"I thought you might." Emerie grinned. "Gwynnie? Thoughts?"

Gwyn pondered for a moment before she broke out in a smile. "I'm always down to be petty."

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel

7 notes · View notes

writ-by-britt · 5 months

Text

Safe and Sound

A thunderstorm rolls through Velaris. It wakes Gwyn and Azriel, and not too long afterward, their daughter Seryn, who isn't a huge fan of storms. However, she's adamant that she's not afraid. Azriel and Gwyn sing her back to sleep.

Link to Ao3

----------

Thunder shook the cottage by the river. Azriel opened one hazel eye at the ongoing rumble of a late night summer storm passing through Velaris. In his arms, Gwyn shifted, the top of her head bumping his chin.

“Shh,” she mumbled at the storm.

Azriel’s fingers drifted over to trace patterns on her hip. Gwyn was mostly asleep, her eyes closed. She burrowed against him, her forehead nudging his chest.

Lightning cracked, painting the window in stark slashes of white. Azriel opened his eyes fully as rain beat against the glass. The shadows in the room twisted, restless at the noise and sudden brightness.

This storm didn’t seem inclined to listen to his mate.

And, still half-asleep, Gwyn was displeased by that. She shoved away the thin blanket and pushed up on one elbow, blinking awake. Sleepy but annoyed, Azriel’s arm around her waist, she pointed a finger at the window. “Begone, intruder.” The shadows silently agreed with her, tracing the windowsill and hiding in the corners of the bedroom.

At her command, the storm immediately��did nothing but continue. Rain steadily pelted the windows as the storm became a downpour, and thunder rolled through their cottage. Gwyn scowled, teal eyes narrowing.

Azriel squeezed her thigh. “I hate to be the one to inform you that storms aren’t obedient dogs. However, you may need to know…”

“Hush. Ria says if you rough talk them, they listen,” Gwyn grumbled.

“Ria controls storms.” That was Tarquin's mate's gift, after all, a wild skill the former pirate now wielded for the good of Prythian.

“With rough talk,” Gwyn said. She pushed her hair back from her face and looked up at him, sleepy but playful as he smirked back at her. Lightning lit the room as she pressed her hand against his chest. “Listen here, spymaster, I’ll rough talk you if you don’t watch it.”

Azriel caught her in a kiss, deepening it and drawing her closer. He broke the kiss and brushed his cheek against hers before pressing a kiss to the soft spot beneath her ear. “Is that a promise?”

Gwyn kissed his neck, sweet and soft, and then nipped at his bottom lip while thunder boomed. “No.”

With a growl deep in his throat, Azriel grabbed her by the waist, hand slipping to the hem of her night dress, intending to win that promise from her. But the shadows that might have drifted out of the room by now shifted and swirled.

One curled around his head. Our nightlight is on her way. The storm is loud. She fears it.

Gwyn’s eyes searched his suddenly frowning face. “What is it?”

Azriel kissed her again, quick and reassuring, as he pushed back the blanket. “Seryn’s afraid.”

Gwyn kicked the sheet off as the door to their bedroom creaked. A little hand pushed the door open, revealing a walking blanket. Their four-year-old had completely covered herself with the patchwork quilt from her bed. Seryn bumped into the doorframe and sat down on the floor with a sniffle. Shadows encircled her, brushing against the blanket, trying to be comforting.

Azriel was immediately off the bed and moving, sweeping her off the floor and into his arms, still bundled in her blanket. She squeaked and her wings flailed before he pushed the blanket back from her face. Instantly she relaxed.

“It sounds too big,” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Agreed,” Azriel said, rubbing her back as he carried her back over to the bed. He handed Seryn down to Gwyn, who hugged her tight and kissed her cheek.

“It’s all right to be afraid,” she said, nuzzling Seryn.

“Not afraid,” Seryn said with a stubborn jut of her chin. At least until lightning cracked again and she huddled in Gwyn’s arms. Her own strange light flashed above her head in an uncertain but apparent defiance even through her fear.

Azriel climbed onto the bed and settled with his back against the low headboard, wings splayed over its smoothed, rounded edge. Sea waves met mountain cliffs on the relief that was etched into the wood. He pulled Gwyn and therefore Seryn to him, settling Gwyn between his legs, her back to his chest. His wings lifted up and then curved around them, blocking out the storm.

“Is that better?” he asked, pulling the blanket partially over them.

“I think,” Seryn said. She grabbed his hand and held onto it with both of hers. He squeezed her hand, marveling again at how delicate and strong she was at the same time. And how much trust she put in him.

“The storm is moving west,” he said as his shadows passed along the information. “It’s heading out to sea.”

“I told it to begone.” He could feel Gwyn’s heartbeat as she leaned back against him, like the waves crashing against the shore, constant and strong. “It just took a while.”

Azriel slid her copper hair to the side and kissed the bared side of her neck. “I suppose rough talking might have been effective.”

“Might?”

“Mmm…”

The glow from Seryn’s scattered lights twinkled gently as she calmed, creating a starscape in the safety of Azriel’s wings.

Gwyn touched one of the lights, and it broke into glimmers of starshine, swirling around her fingertip. “Seryn, how are you doing that?” It was a question she and everyone had asked hundreds of times, but it was hard to not ask. No one knew how Seryn seemed to store and use light or what that ability was called. It was Gwyn and Azriel’s persistent high interest research project.

“Dunno,” Seryn answered, yawning.

Some version of that was always her answer. It was like asking her how she breathed. It was something she did without thought, though she could control it when she wanted to. Azriel understood. He knew the feeling. He was grateful that Seryn’s lights weren’t born from fear or want of friends, like his relationship to his shadows. The light didn’t seem sentient, more like a tool or material she could use at will, though what the extent of that ability was, no one knew yet.

Azriel hugged Gwyn to him. “Go to sleep. Both of you.”

“You first,” she said, knocking her head back gently against his collarbone.

“Not sleepy, not afraid,” Seryn said. She covered her mouth and glared as she yawned again, betraying herself. “Am not at all.”

“If you say so, little defiant one,” Azriel said.

Seryn's nose wrinkled. "I'm not defiant, Papa."

"Do you know what that means?" Gwyn asked with a laugh.

"Yes," Seryn said.

"Oh? Then tell me."

"I don't want to," she said, laying her head on Gwyn's shoulder. Azriel could feel Gwyn's fond amusement through their bond, and his own added to it, love for their daughter strengthening that tight link between them.

Gwyn began to softly sing, a lullaby about mountain rivers and hidden glens and the moon high above it all. Azriel quietly wove in a harmony and stroked Seryn’s arm.

“Not…sleepy,” Seryn said. Gwyn’s song became a gentle caress and repeated as Azriel dropped into humming along.

As the storm moved through Velaris, Seryn’s protests dimmed and then went silent, her head nestled against Gwyn’s shoulder. Azriel realized that he was the only one humming. “Gwyn?”

Her steady breathing made him lower his wings, letting them rest. Peacefully stuck, Azriel held his small and precious family and watched the storm roll out to sea as they slept in his arms.

#other people's fics #gods this is adorable

80 notes · View notes