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It seemed to Cassian as though he had descended into a world made entirely of white.
He blinked, trying to clear the snow clinging to his eyelashes, and snapped his wings a little, a fruitless attempt at keeping the wet slush from settling. Those two sensations were almost more bothersome than the cold itself, for it seemed that no matter how many centuries passed since his youth, his body had permanently adapted to the frigid temperatures of winter in the Illyrian mountains.
But even if the cold wasn’t bothering him, something else was, and that was the worry clawing its way up his spine.
Landing in the Illyrian camp to hear that Azriel hadn’t yet arrived when by all estimations he should have been there hours before had been nothing short of terrifying. Cassian had had the longer flight, coming from Velaris, but Azriel, flying in from a neighbouring camp, had had the far harder one, having to battle through the wild weather of the mountains. And clearly something had gone terribly wrong in the process.
None of the camp lords had tried to stop him as he’d launched back into the air to look for Azriel, and why should they? They hadn’t seemed particularly worried about Azriel’s absence, and they were probably hoping that Cassian froze to death while he was searching for him.
The thought had him quickening his pace as he trudged through the snow, walking because the weather was forcing him to do so. Even if he had been able to see anything from the air, which was unlikely, with how the wind was whirling around him he likely wouldn’t have been able to stay airborne for longer than a minute. It was, unfortunately, no wonder that Azriel hadn’t made it to the camp and Cassian found himself wishing he’d gotten word to Az to just stay put.
The other male had never admitted it out loud, but Cassian knew that bad weather made him uneasy, flying in it even more so. More than in any other conditions, flying in the damp or snow required relying on one’s instincts, instincts that Azriel had never been allowed to completely develop. The thought of him trying to fly in this weather made Cassian’s stomach churn, not to mention the knowledge that he’d been stuck out here for hours…
“Az!” Cassian bellowed, struggling to make his voice heard over the howling of the wind.
He could barely see more than a few feet ahead of him at any given time, trees, with even the lowest branches and trunks completely coated in white snow, lurched up out of nowhere and Cassian had no idea how he was going to find the other male like this. But he did know that he wasn’t going anywhere until he did.
Cassian wasn't thinking about giving up, but he was wondering if he needed to come up with a better plan when he saw it: a black splotch, dark as night against the pure white snow, unmistakably one of the shadows that usually swirled in Azriel’s wake. Cassian lurched towards it, spotting another, and then another, following the line, which looked eerily like a dark blood trail, until finally…
“No,” Cassian gasped, slipping and sliding as he scrambled forward.
Azriel was on the ground, propped up against the base of a tree with his wings curled tightly around him as if trying to wrap him in the last layer of warmth against the snow. The ground around him was purely black, as if the temperature was so cold that even his shadows had been frozen solid.
Cassian slammed to his knees beside the other male but his hands were achingly gentle as he pried one of the wings back, aware of the danger of moving the stiff appendage too quickly.
“Az,” he breathed, touching the male’s cold cheek, stroking along his jaw with a thumb. He could have wept when Azriel’s eyes, lined with frost, blinked open and peered at him dazedly.
“Cass,” he mumbled through pale lips, voice hoarse, even as his eyes started to slide shut again.
Cassian pressed his thumb harder into Azriel’s jaw, and the male’s eyes jerked open again, looking a little clearer and a little perturbed now.
“Stay awake,” Cassian ordered, and slipped his hands under Azriel’s armpits to haul him upright. The other male grumbled something unintelligible at being moved but kept his feet under him, even if he had to lean on Cassian more than was reassuring. “There’s an inn not far from here, we can hunker down there until morning.”
The journey was slow going, but Cassian was reassured that Azriel managed to stay vertical the entire way, and finally, blessedly, the inn loomed out of the white storm. Cassian kicked the door open and shoved Azriel through ahead of him, ignoring the innkeeper who snarled at them for the blast of frigid air they were letting in. A dozen tables had been squashed into the room, but most of them were empty, with only a few Illyrians drinking their way through the storm.
“We need a room,” Cassian said, levering Azriel over to the bar. The innkeeper seemed on the verge of turning them away, sneering at the snow they were dripping all over the floor, but Cassian reached into his pocket and dumped a handful of coin onto the bar, enough to pay for a room twice over. The innkeeper eyed the coin greedily and mumbled something about a room on the third floor, already sweeping his prize into the till.
Cassian spared a communal washroom on the second floor half a glance before continuing on, having seen enough Illyrian females care for frostbitten soldiers to know that body heat was infinitely more effective than hot water. Azriel didn’t offer an opinion and Cassian might have worried something was wrong but at least his slight trembling and faster than normal breaths indicated he was still conscious.
They made it to their room and Cassian shouldered his way into it, dragging Azriel with him. For the brief moment that he let go of the other male to shut and lock the door, the shadowsinger swayed on his feet, still feeling the effects of being out in the snow for so long. Cassian seized his hip, holding him steady as he fit his other hand against his neck so he could gaze into Azriel’s eyes.
“Still with me, Az?”
“Cold,” Azriel muttered, the closest he’d come to admitting vulnerability.
“I know.” Cassian reached for the buttons of his jacket, ignoring Azriel’s glare of protest. “Gotta get you out of this wet gear.”
Azriel allowed Cassian to divulge him of his soaking jacket, but grabbed his wrist when he reached for the buttons of his shirt next.
“What are you-”
“Body heat,” Cassian growled, growing frustrated with the interruptions. They might be inside now, but Azriel was still pale, shaking, and wearing freezing, wet clothes. “It’s the only way to warm you up properly.”
He’d done it plenty of times during the war with his comrades in arms, when they were so cold that they didn’t give a damn that it was a bastard-born they were clinging to.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” he added, perhaps unnecessarily if the odd look Azriel gave him was anything to go by.
Azriel still didn’t look convinced by his words, but his trembling was picking up again, so he relented with a hiss of breath, hands going for the ties on his pants while Cassian picked up again with his shirt. In a heartbeat he was completely bare, but Cassian didn’t allow himself to appreciate the sight, looking away even as he placed a hand on the shadowsinger’s chest and pushed him towards the bed. While Azriel was getting himself settled, Cassian shucked off his own wet clothing, stripping right down to his skin, then with a tight breath he climbed in after the other male.
There was a pregnant pause, where they both hesitated, keeping to their side of the admittedly small bed, then a shudder passed through Azriel, and the promise of one another’s body heat proved too much. They both surged forward, Cassian slipping one muscled thigh between Azriel’s, while the other male clenched Cassian’s waist and yanked him closer. Cassian closed first his arms, then his wings around Azriel, the extra layer of warmth just what the shadowsinger needed for his trembling to finally ease.
“Alright?” Cassian asked gruffly, trying not to think about the fact that every inch of Azriel was currently plastered to him.
Azriel didn’t answer, likely out of stubbornness, but Cassian couldn’t help but note how he burrowed closer, pressing his face into the juncture of Cassian’s neck. His trembling had all but stopped and his lips, now pressed against the sensitive skin of Cassian’s throat, felt warmer. Hesitantly, Cassian brought a hand up to toy with the dark hair at the nape of the male’s neck, regretting the move when he felt Azriel stiffen.
“Sorry,” he muttered, yanking his hand away and settling it on Azriel’s back, right between his wings, instead.
Azriel didn’t say anything and Cassian wondered desperately what he was thinking. Then, almost too quietly to hear, came, “You didn’t have to stop.” And Cassian was very glad that the darkness hid his answering smile.