Work Text:
Azriel passed the archway to the training pit, his head was throbbing. The morning sun felt like a blazing light, blinding him and worsening his headache. He groaned and tried to shield his eyes, his shadows were hovering above him, as if to shelter him. He heard them hiss too, annoyed by the sharpness of the light.
It took him a few seconds before he could open his eyes without cringing. He had blindly joined Cassian and Nesta who were standing next to the water station, relying on muscle memory and his shadows to warn him before he bumped into someone. His discomfort and regrets were only softened by the sight that Cassian and Nesta offered. They both seemed clearly as in bad shape and exhauster as he was. Both ashen faced, eyes puffy and red by the lack of sleep. He smirked and greeted them both. He hadn’t join them for breakfast this morning, he had preferred to enjoy the solitary reprieve of a breakfast in his bedroom, away from noises and lights, nursing his hangover as best as he could before having to join them for the training session. He almost regretted drinking that much last night – well, five hours ago to be precise. Almost. The sheer satisfaction of winning the drinking contest against both Cassian and Nesta was making it up for the discomfort he knew he would endure all day.
The drinking game had made up for his hatred of celebrating his birthday. No matter how many years, centuries, they had passed together, he still felt annoyed by the idea of celebrating his birth. He could not see the point in it. But he had always played along, if only for the joy it seemed to give to his family and for yet another excuse to be completely wasted and spend the night laughing with the people he loved the most. Usually, he would nurse his hangover in the soothing darkness of his bedroom, laying in bed most of the day, being sent food and water by the house, and when he felt better, indulging in going to a pleasure house for a few hours. But for the first time since Rhys had returned, this sweet routine was taken away from him. He and Cass had committed to training the girls, and they couldn’t not show up just because they had partied too hard and drank too much. They owed it to them, and to themselves in a way. So he had forced himself out of bed, wincing and grunting. Swayed a few seconds before finding his footing, ate as best as he could without wanting to throw up, drank almost a litre of water, donned his leathers and trudged on towards the pit. Even his shadows felt weak and uncharacteristically heavy this morning.
The training was a slow torture. It took him almost an hour to feel better, to feel in control of his body, no longer sluggish and at the mercy of the pounding in his head. They had started slowly with Cassian, using the excuse of welcoming new novices to start with light stretching and balance exercises for the first 20 minutes. But some of the girls were feeling restless, they wanted to try again some new movements, some new fighting and blade manoeuvrings that Cass had mentioned a few days ago. Emerie even had the nerve to suggest him and Cassian demonstrate some of the fighting moves first.
“So that we can all clearly see how it is supposed to be done” she had claimed.
Of course, all the girls had cheered at the idea and urged them to do a demonstration, grinning and clapping in delight. They couldn’t think of any excuses to refuse, so they had obliged them begrudgingly. They fought together, albeit slower than they would usually do, so that the girls could see the right postures, the right moves. Despite the slow pace of the demonstration Az still felt dizzy by the end of it. The girls clapped and they both bowed mockingly. Emerie and Gwyn were eyeing them with a roguish smile, no doubt proud of the suffering they just inflicted on the boys.
“Now that you all had time to rest and ogle, I suggest you do some exercises.” Cassian said.
“Those who have already trained with a blade, go fetch one and work the parry techniques in pairs. You’ll work with Az today. As for the others, you work with me. I want you to work in pairs too, work on your postures and then on the attacks with fists and foot. But first,” he added, turning towards Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn with a devious smile “Emerie, since you were the one to ask for more action, you will do 100 push ups and 100 sit ups before joining the others.”
Emerie scoffed at the order but Cassian did not let her time to retort.
“As for you Gwyneth, and you, my dear Nesta, since I have no doubt you were in league with your friend, and are in need of more exercises too, you will do 50 push ups and 50 sit ups. And don’t even think of cheating. I will be watching and counting too!” he winked at them.
Gwyn groaned but had the good sense of not saying anything and immediately took place next to Emerie. Nesta simply raised an eyebrow and smiled in challenge. Oh she will definitely take her revenge later, Azriel thought, and he took note not to stay at the house tonight.
Cassian clapped twice and barked “Good! Let’s begin!”
Azriel joined the novices training with blades on the right side of the ring and wholly focused on surveying the training the rest of the session, doing his best to block the hammering in his head and the sight of Gwyn training not far from him, doing the exercises utterly focused, cheeks red and lips slowly parted.
The last hour of training passed mercifully quickly. Azriel congratulated the girls and went to put back the blades on the rack while the novices drank, chattered and left the training ring.
“Azriel!” A soft voice called for him. His shadows flittered behind him as he recognised the voice. He turned and found Gwyn walking towards him, leaving Nesta and Emerie chatting together, trying – and failing – to discreetly watch them. He smiled at her as she stopped before him. She was still drenched in sweat, her face was red and he could sense her heart still fluttering, despite the cool down and stretching they had just finished.
“How are –“
“I wanted to – “
They spoke and stopped at the same time. He cringed, not knowing what to do with himself. He offered her a small smile, letting her speak first.
A few seconds passed, the time seeming to stretch infinitely before she dared talking again. Her cheeks growing even redder.
“I wanted to apologise for not coming yesterday. For your birthday party, I mean,” She said in a breath. “I - I forgot to tell Nesta I couldn’t come, that I was expected at the service, to – to sing in it and I could have come after but… it just felt too much, too many people… I’m sorry…“ her voice ended barely in a whisper.
He stared at her dumfounded. Her blue eyes were fixed on him, they were filled with so much guilt it wrenched his heart. The fact that she cared so much and felt the need to apologise about something of so little consequence to him stirred something deep in him he couldn’t even name. His birthday was not important, he was of no importance.
He realised he had been starring at her for too long now, lost in his thoughts. Shit, say something you idiot!
“There’s nothing to apologise for, Gwyn. Really. You’ll never have to apologise for not feeling like being around people. Not to me,” he said gently.
“Thank you, for understanding,” she smiled.
“It’s nothing, you weren’t required to come anyway. It didn’t matter to me,” he added.
He realised the meaning the of his words as they left his lips. Shit!
“I mean… The party wasn’t important, my birthday didn’t matter! Not, not you!” shit, shit, shit.
She snorted and shook her head in amusement. “I know what you mean. Don’t worry.”
Her smile faded slowly and she added, “And I know you don’t think so, but your birthday does matter Azriel! It is something to be celebrated. I would celebrate it, anyway.”
He shrugged. At loss of words once again. He felt the urge to merge with his shadows, to hide from her assessing gaze, yet he couldn’t stop looking at her, looking into her eyes. He wanted to drown in them.
She shook her head again, soft strands of unbound hair flowing around her face, a soft smile ghosting her lips.
“Anyway, I didn’t come only to apologise, I…hm, there is something I wanted to give you.”
He snapped out of his reverie and raised an eyebrow in surprise, waiting for her to continue.
She brought her closed fists in front of her and cupped her hands to reveal a small bracelet. One similar to those he had seen her, Nesta and Emerie wear.
“I wanted to make something for your birthday. Something that could stay with you if you wanted. You can either tie it to the pommel of a dagger, or you can tie it at your wrist. I made it adjustable in size by sliding those two knots. You can also take it off easily if you need to before a battle or… a mission.”
He stared at the bracelet in her hands, three threads of colour interwoven and knotted together. The white bringing light and making the rich blue and black threads stand out. He swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks heating up.
“Thank you. You didn’t need to give me a present, you know.”
“I know. But I wanted to!” she stated simply, a warm smile blooming on her face.
“I chose those colours for you, trying to select those that reflects you, that felt the more you. The blue one reminded me of your syphons, and the black one of your shadow and… well,” she eyed him up and down and smirked “it seems to be your favourite colour!”
He chuckled at that. Touché.
“The white one was from the ribbon, the one I cut thanks to you! You encouraged me and pushed me to do better, to not give up, not that I intended to you know! But you and Cassian helped more than you realise. I chose it as a reminder of the strength and the light you bring to people’s life.” She blushed deeply again and bit on her lower lip, looking at him expectantly.
He was utterly speechless for a minute. He had the reflex to touch the bracelet lying in her palms, tracing the threads with the tip of his index, passing over the few knots, the rest of his fingers grazing her hands, sending spark through his body. He grabbed the bracelet by its two ends, stretching it on her palms with both hands, exposing fully the trinket. “And that’s Carynth?” he asked, raising his gaze to her.
She beamed. “Yes! To watch over you and guide you. And as a reminder that you, Rhysand and Cassian are not the only Carynthians now” she winked at him. He barked a laugh at the jab. Indeed, his brothers and him now shared the title with two strong, and impertinent, women.
But behind the little jabs and the smile she worn, he knew she was offering him something precious, something that went beyond a mere bracelet. It was a not only a simple sign of friendship, but something telling him that she saw him, that she understood some parts of him only his family knew of. The little threads were a link, a bond of sort between them, tying a part of herself to him.
He cleared his throat, trying to pass his emotion as simply being tired. “Thank you,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. “I will cherish it and wear it with pride.” She had chosen the blue thread for his siphons, but it reminded him the blue of her eyes, making the colour even dearer to him.
She smiled faintly at him as she held his gaze. He shivered when he felt his shadows around their joined hand, swooping around them, brushing their wrists like a soft wind. He realised his hands were still hovering above hers, displaying his scars, a stark contrast against her delicate skin. He was about to withdraw his hands when she squeezed them, keeping them against her palms under the dancing shadows. He felt the brush of her thumbs against the back of his hands, like a whisper on his scars as she cheerfully exclaimed “Happy birthday, Azriel!”
She withdrew her hands and walked back to her friends, who were doing their best “We’re just talking about training and not about you two” faces.
He just stood there for a few seconds, unable to move, unable to process the goosebumps that were still covering his arms, the tightness of his body, the heat on his cheeks. He stood there, feeling as hot and as naked as he if were in the birchin. His shadows still dancing softly around his hands, the bracelet hanging between his fingers.
He only came back to his senses when he felt Cassian’s strong hand on his right shoulder, squeezing him softly.
“You need a drink, brother,” he chuckled.
Azriel was not sure if it was a question or a statement. He wasn’t sure of anything really, aside from the fact that the intense throbbing he had felt in his head all morning morning was now lodged in his heart, making him feel hungover in a completely novel way.