Work Text:
Alexandria, 48 BC
Azra didn't dare to breathe. If he breathed, then the smoke would enter his lungs, and if the smoke entered his lungs, he'd be discorporated, and if he was discorporated, then this would all be for naught, and that was utterly unacceptable. He ran instead, stumbling through the rubble and the flames, picking up whatever scrolls he could as he went, the tears that ran down only half from the fire.
"Azra!"
It was Coriel's voice, somehow, impossibly, but Azra ignored it, continued running through the old library, the stink of smoke and paper and burning fur filling his lungs despite his best efforts, and he coughed, tripping over some rubble or his own feet or some combination of the two, dropping to his knees, the precious scrolls spilling from his arms.
"No," Azra choked out, scrambling forwards, and now the fur on his hands was burning, too, sending fresh flares of pain through his entire body, but he couldn't stop, couldn't stop, he had to save the scrolls, he had to help, this wasn't meant to happen, he couldn't– he couldn't–
"Azra! Stupid bunny, why are you still here?" Coriel's voice, again. Azra kept ignoring it, choking on smoke and sobs, grabbing at the scrolls, burnt and whole alike, as dark spots began to flicker in his vision, dancing around the edges. He would discorporate here, he knew it, and he’d likely never find his way back up afterwards, but he couldn't just– he couldn't–
"You absolute bloody idiot," Coriel's voice hissed in his ear, and then there were arms around him, yanking him up, and then the library was– it was gone, it had vanished, Coriel had teleported them away.
"No!" Azra cried, shoving at Coriel's hands, but he was weak and shaking and still couldn't catch his breath through the smoke and the pain and the tears welling up against his will. "Coriel, let me go– I have– I have to–"
"You were about to discorporate," Coriel said, her grip unwavering, her Seraph's strength entirely unbothered by Azra's weak protests. "You're not going back there, bunny. It's too late."
"No," Azra gasped again, shaking his head desperately, even as the darkness at the edge of his vision began to spread, even as he slumped, defeated, in Coriel's arms. "No, I– I have to– I have–"
"Shh,” Coriel breathed, lifting Azra up and then setting him back down again on something soft and warm and not on fire. That was… that was wrong, wasn’t it?
“The fire…” Azra said.
“It’s too late, bunny,” Coriel said, her face swimming in and out of focus over top of Azra’s as the black spots in the demon’s vision grew larger and larger. “Azra, hey, I need you to stay with me, okay? Stay awake, please, please, bunny, stay with me–”
“Coriel,” Azra said, his hand reaching desperately for the angel, but then the burns on his palm brushed against something, something just a touch too rough for the agony of them, and pain shot through Azra’s entire body as the darkness finally won.
###
Azra came to slowly, mildly surprised by the fact that he was still alive enough to be able to come to, though he couldn’t quite remember why. He was lying on something soft and warm, and he could feel the gentle pressure of an angelic presence– of Coriel’s presence– somewhere nearby.
He opened his eyes with a soft groan, only managing to get a brief glimpse of a low ceiling above him before Coriel’s face overtook his vision, waves of red curls obscuring everything else.
“Bunny,” the angel said, her relief practically palpable. “Hey.”
“Coriel,” Azra breathed, his hand– his healed hand, he wasn’t burnt any longer– rising to cup her face as his memory finally caught up with him. “You– you pulled me out–”
Then he bolted upright, panic and grief flooding through him. “The Library–!”
“Hey, hey, hey, don’t get up,” Coriel said, taking Azra’s arms to ease him back down onto the bed. “You nearly discorporated, bunny, you need to rest.”
“The Library,” Azra repeated, clutching at Coriel, loathe to let her go.
Coriel’s face twisted. “It– I’m so sorry, bunny.”
Azra crumpled, collapsing into Coriel’s arms as a soft sort of keening whimper tore itself out of his throat.
“I know,” Coriel murmured, star-strong arms wrapping around Azra, holding him close, and Azra turned his face into Coriel’s shoulder, his shaky hands clenching in the conjured linen at Coriel’s back.
“H-how– how much–?” he choked out, terrified to hear the answer but unable to stop himself.
He felt Coriel’s mouth, where it was pressed against the top of his head, twist into a grimace. “It… there are people there, trying to recover what they can, but…”
Azra took a deep breath, then nodded, pulled himself out of Coriel’s arms (and, oh, how could that manage to be so very difficult?), and stood up, blinking away the dark spots that danced in front of his eyes at the motion.
“Whoa! Wait, wait, wait,” Coriel said immediately, grabbing him once more and pushing him back towards the bed again. “Where the Hell d’you think you’re going?”
“I– I have to help,” Azra stammered, pushing at Coriel’s arms, just as ineffective as he’d been during the fire. “I can’t just–”
“Did you miss the part where you nearly discorporated?” Coriel hissed, manhandling Azra back onto the bed with a vice grip on his arms. “You have to rest!”
“I feel right as rain,” Azra lied, ignoring the growing dizziness and the nausea rising in his stomach, though at least part of the latter was due to the suffocating guilt rolling over him in waves. “Coriel, I have to go help them, just let me–”
“No, you don’t have to!” Coriel said, letting one of Azra’s arms free in order to gesture broadly. “They are bloody brilliant at picking themselves back up, bunny, they’ve never needed either of us for it! Why do you always have to help them?”
“Coriel–”
“Why do you have to throw yourself into danger, or push yourself to your limits, over and over and over again, to try and help them? You give them so much, Azra! Why does it have to be you?”
“Because it’s my fault!”
Coriel froze, her mouth still half-open, staring at Azra.
The demon glared down at his hands in his lap, still uncovered, the white fur on his palms patchy and singed from the fire as he forced the words out. “It– the Library especially, but all of it– Coriel, it’s my fault. All of their– their pain, and their suffering, they– it’s because of me that they learned those things, and then I gave them fire and War and– don’t you see? I have to– I have–”
“Ohh, Azra, bunny…” Coriel’s voice was so soft, so achingly gentle, as was her hand as it cupped Azra’s cheek, lifting his face up until he had to meet her eyes.
Azra leaned back, away from that devastatingly kind touch, from that molten-gold gaze, feeling the burning sting of tears and blinking them back furiously. “A-and, and the Library… I– at th-the last staff meeting, they– I was, I mentioned that I was here, a-and, and I got too excited, I told them about how– how wonderful it all was, and… you know how He gets w-when he sees that humanity is doing well. Hastur, he, he suggested… he laughed at me, and he suggested that, that if the Library is so important, perhaps they ought to just burn it all down, and–”
“That’s why you didn’t miracle yourself out,” Coriel breathed.
Azra nodded, squeezing his eyes shut in a desperate attempt to forestall the tears. “I was forbidden from interfering. But I couldn’t just let it– so much history, so many stories, so many brilliant things– and now it’s all gone, and it’s my fault again–”
“No,” Coriel said, her voice loud and firm, and Azra jumped, opening his eyes despite himself.
“What–?” he began.
“No, Azra,” she said, both of her hands finding his, holding them gently. “This isn’t your fault. In absolutely no way is any of it your bloody fault. Okay? You saved Adam and Eve’s lives with that sword, and what the rest of them did with it afterward is not your fault. What Hell did to the Library isn’t your fault, either, and the fact that you think it is, when you nearly got yourself killed trying to–!” Coriel cut herself off, shaking her head. “Bunny, you’ve done so much for them, and I know you’re gonna do so, so much more, I couldn’t stop you if I tried. But you also have to take care of yourself. You just almost discorporated, and the site is still in the process of coming down. Please, just stay here and rest, just for a moment.”
Azra bit his lip, hard, as the tears finally spilled over. “I– I can’t, my dear, I’m sorry, I just… I– now that the fire itself is over, I can use miracles again, so I’ll be– I’ll be all right, I just– I can’t– I have to help. Please, Coriel, I– please.”
Coriel stared at him for a long, long moment, then sighed, standing up and tugging Azra with her. “Right. Fine. But don’t wander off on your own, okay? And let me do most of the heavy-lifting, you just focus on… I dunno, picking up scrolls or whatever.”
Azra blinked, letting her pull him along. “You– you’re coming with me?”
“Course I am,” Coriel said. “Now, c’mon, I don’t wanna run into Hastur and I reckon he’s more likely to be out after dark, yeah?”
“Why– but, Coriel, you’re the one who said it was too dangerous,” Azra pointed out, stumbling to a stop.
Coriel rolled her eyes. “Well, yeah. That’s why I’m going with you. Thought that was obvious.”
Azra just stared at her, stunned.
Coriel sighed, taking a step closer, her hands finding his once more and squeezing ever so gently. “Like I said. I couldn’t stop you from protecting them if I tried. Just means I have to be there to make sure that someone’s protecting you, too.”
Azra’s breath caught in his throat, and he clung to Coriel’s hands in a desperate attempt to ground himself. “I– I’m not sure I’m very well-equipped to return the favor, my dear.”
Coriel laughed, taking a small step closer, close enough that Azra could feel how very warm she always was. “Bunny, you’ve been protecting me since the literal moment we met. I’m the one returning the favor, here. ‘Sides, not like it’s a hardship, spending time with you. If you want.”
“I do,” Azra said immediately. “I want– my dear, I–”
And then Coriel was leaning in, pressing her lips to his, kissing him, and Azra froze for a moment before melting into it, kissing Coriel back, carefully, oh so carefully, just for a moment. It was short, and chaste, and Azra hadn’t the foggiest what to do with himself, and he thought it might very well have been the best kiss in history.
Then he pulled back, scanning Coriel’s face, almost terrified that it would suddenly contort in pain, that her hands would be ripped from his as she plummeted Down Below, that some awful fate would befall her for daring to care for him.
Instead, Coriel just smiled, a soft, happy sort of smile that made Azra’s chest ache. Then she snapped her fingers, conjuring a pair of black leather gloves that seemed to be exact replicas of the ones that had burned, and handed them to Azra.
Azra stared at her, accepting them numbly, his mouth tingling faintly.
“C’mon,” Coriel said, taking his hand again once he’d put the new gloves on. “I was being serious about not wanting to be there too late, Hastur seems like the type to gloat, based on what you’ve said.”
“He is, most certainly, and I’d rather not get reported,” Azra’s mouth said, largely without any conscious input from his mind, which was far too occupied trying desperately to process the fact that Coriel had kissed him.
Does that mean… he wondered. Does she…? She must know how I feel, at this point, I’m a dreadful liar, and… and, well, angels can sense love, I do remember that, though I never had the chance to test it on a demon. Either way… she has to know by now. So does she…? Or was it just a spur of the moment sort of thing?
Azra supposed that it didn’t matter. Either way, it had been the best few seconds of his very long life, and it was far, far too dangerous to ever happen again. If Coriel was hurt, if she Fell, especially if it was because of him…
It simply didn’t bear thinking about. It wouldn’t happen. Azra wouldn’t let it happen. He would do whatever it took to keep Coriel safe.
I’m selfish, he thought, letting her drag him through the streets of Alexandria, watching the way she moved, the way she smiled, the faint glow of divinity that rose off her as it always did. The gloves she’d conjured him were warm with the same heat that always rose off her body, the heat of a star-maker, of a Seraph living in a body that was just a touch too small to contain all of her power. Azra squeezed her hand, almost despite himself, and she glanced over her shoulder at him, squeezing back.
I won’t let her Fall, he promised. I can’t– I can’t leave her, not entirely, I’m far too selfish to do that, but I– I’ll be careful. I’ll do a better job of keeping my distance. I– I won’t make her face Hell, not for this, not for me, not if there’s anything I can possibly do to stop it. I’ll keep her safe. I will protect her.
I love her far too much to do anything else.