Chapter Text
Azriel watched Gwyn move through the ancient combat forms, her turquoise eyes narrowed in intense concentration as she perfected each motion. She had come a long way from when he first began training her, her movements now lethal yet graceful. His shadows seemed to be drawn to the light she radiated, swirling and spinning around her as if performing some sort of dance.
Gwyn spun around and delivered a powerful kick to Azriel's thigh. The force of the impact sent a surprising wave of pain through him, leaving no time to process it before she was attacking again. She was breathing hard, a light sheen of sweat glistening on her freckled skin.
Azriel moved fast as a striking snake, his blade a flash of silver in the dim light. Gwyn barely had time to parry the blow, muscles straining as their swords met.
He gave her no quarter, following up with a series of strikes and thrusts that had her dodging and leaping to avoid them. Her heart pounded, blood rushing through her veins as she struggled to keep up with his brutal speed and skill.
"Faster," he growled, eyes glinting. "You need to anticipate my moves, not just react."
Gwyn gritted her teeth, narrowly blocking another slash of his blade. His words echoed in her mind as she searched for an opening, some hint of his next attack. There—a subtle shift of his wrist, the barest tensing of his arm.
She whirled away an instant before his sword sliced through the air where she'd been standing, launching into a offensive flurry of her own. Azriel let out a low laugh, deflecting each of her blows with an ease that made her snarl in frustration.
A growl rumbled in Gwyn's chest as she flung herself at him again, channeling her irritation into her strikes. Azriel met her blow for blow, the sounds of their blades ringing through the night.
Sweat slicked her skin as she moved, muscles burning from the exertion. But she kept going, kept pushing. Because she would not give up. She would not disappoint him.
"Your form has improved," Azriel said quietly. Gwyn whirled to face him, cheeks flushing and hair wild from the movement. Even in her disheveled state, she was breathtaking. His own breath caught in his throat at the revelation.
"But?" She tucked a wild strand of coppery hair behind her ear and tilted her head inquisitively.
He frowned and paused for a moment before speaking. “You need to anticipate your opponent’s next move if you want to gain the advantage in battle,” he said.
“But I don’t know how! My mind goes blank when we spar.”
Azriel stepped closer, close enough that he could see the flecks of gold in her eyes.
She shifted her weight, ready to step back, but he anchored her with a gentle touch. When he met her gaze, she nodded slowly. "You overthink. Trust your instincts. Feel."
Gwyn glanced away, a mess of doubt and something else clouding her features. "Easy for you to say," she muttered. "You have centuries of experience."
Azriel tilted her chin up with a knuckle, his touch feather-light, his voice soft but earnest. "Experience means nothing without the ability to adapt. You have that ability, Gwyn. You just have to hone your instincts."
Her eyes softened, lips curving into a smile that filled him with warmth. "Two compliments in one night. Did Cassian strike a blow on your head earlier?"
Azriel's hand lingered on her chin, gently cupping it. They had grown comfortable in the past few weeks, with these tender gestures.
Azriel’s eyes glinted with amusement as he glanced down on her, prefering the visible insolence over her self doubt. "Do you ever simply just say 'Thanks'?"
When he withdrew his hand, he ignored the pang of loss that shot through him. Gwyn squared her shoulders, determination etched into her lovely features.
"Again," she said, raising her sword in challenge. Azriel drew his own weapon, the familiar weight steadying his frayed nerves.
Gwyn didn't hesitate, confident in her newly acquired techniques; she lunged forward and attacked.
Azriel slid out of her reach, spinning away in a dark blur before launching a series of strikes that had her scrambling to defend herself. She gritted her teeth against the strain, blocking and dodging each blow.
Almost.
His sword caught her thigh, hitting hard enough to make her hiss. But she didn't falter, didn't pause. She lashed out with a swift kick that Azriel narrowly avoided, eyes glinting with approval.
"Better," he said again, circling her. She mirrored his movements, watching and waiting.
"At this rate," he continued, "you might actually land a hit on me before dawn."
Gwyn bared her teeth. "Is that a challenge?"
Azriel's answering smile was feline. Dangerous. "If you think you're ready."
With a roar, she hurled herself at him again.
This time, she was faster.
This time, her sword found its mark, slicing across his arm.
They both froze for a heartbeat. Then Azriel threw back his head and laughed, shadows flickering in time with his rare, unshadowed joy.
"Well done," he said, eyes bright. Not with anger or annoyance at being bested, but with pride.
Gwyn's heart swelled at the praise, at the knowledge that she had earned it. That for once, she had been good enough.
She smiled at him, breathless and flushed and happier than she'd been in a long while. Azriel's gaze softened, shadows caressing her face with wisps of night.
"Thank you," Gwyn stammered, her cheeks burning.
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Azriel stood motionless in the ring as the shadows around him writhed and seethed with an energy he could feel deep in his bones. His skin still tingled from where he had touched Gwyn's chin.
Azriel's chest heaved with each laboured breath, and he clenched his fists as he tried to rein in his racing thoughts. How could he have been so foolish? He should have known better than to accept Gwyn's offer for private tutoring sessions. What started out as an innocent way to help Gwyn accelerate her progress, had quickly turned into something far more complicated - a temptation that was now threatening to consume him.
He thought he had left all infatuations behind, after finally talking to Mor and solving things with Elain. But now all he could think about was the desire to touch Gwyn again, to feel her warmth.
He knew it was wrong.
To allow himself such a weakness would be surrendering to something far more powerful than mere longing.
Azriel shut his eyes and drew in a ragged breath, feeling the shadows stir more fiercely in response. They saw things that Azriel was not willing to acknowledge.
Azriel gritted his teeth against their whispers, the urges they planted in his mind to claim Gwyn, to make her his in body as well as soul.
A deep growl rose up from the darkness that churned around him, propelling Azriel to edge away from her lingering scent. He knew if he gave in, he would become a beast consumed by desire. She deserved better than that, better than becoming another conquest of his own selfish cravings to make her his in every way possible.
The shadows laughed at him as he spread his wings and flew away, fleeing the ghosts of Gwyn's radiating smile. He shivered as a chill brushed against his wings. But even the icy wind wasn't enough to quell the fire she had ignited within him.
He had sworn himself to help her, train her, as long as he'd never have to feel that fear from the bloodrite again and he would, even if it killed him.