Chapter Text
The nightmares had come back.
Gwyn wiped the sweat from her brow in between hard punches to the punching bag. It was late (early?), the stars twinkling silently overhead and the beginnings of the sunrise barely peaking over the mountains ahead of her.
This is the fourth time this week that the nightmares have gotten the best of her and it was starting to affect her during the day. She's angry and sluggish and so tired her eyes are sore, but the nightmares don't let up. Every night it's the same horror replaying behind her eyelids and she is emotionally and physically exhausted -
Her nightmares hadn't been this bad since the attack on the temple. Since she was...attacked. When she'd first been rescued and brought to the library, the nightmares had been so bad she just didn't sleep. At all. For days. But it was like Rhysand knew because after a few days, he came with a healer, an older woman whose name she couldn't remember for the life of her, who brought them all a sleeping tonic.
"To help you sleep," is all he'd said after offering to talk, to listen, but they all turned him down. Scared to give voice to the terrors running around in the corners of their heads, keeping them from the blissful dark of sleep.
During that time, the only thing that really allowed her a few minutes of sleep was the cloak. Azriel had wrapped it around her after he'd killed her attackers and they'd brought her back to the library in it and she just...clung to it. It was the only thing that kept her grounded in the days afterwards. And it was the only thing that made her feel safe in her new room underneath a large mountain in a foreign place. So far from home and so alone except for her and this cloak that kept her warm and made her feel ok enough to close her eyes for an hour.
Eventually, she'd been so desperate for sleep that she had finally taken the tonic. It helped enough that she could sleep through the night but she knew that the nightmares were still there, lurking in the shadowy corners of her consciousness because she woke up sweaty and tangled in her own sheets as if she'd been fighting them off.
After she started her Valkyrie training, the nightmares had finally stopped in full. She didn't need the tonic to sleep (the exhausting training did a great job at helping her sleep like the dead) but she always kept the cloak close by.
But even that didn't stop her nightmares from returning.
The Rite must have shaken her more than she realized because the nightmares were back and so vivid it felt like they were real. She was really back at the temple, those men were really back on top of her, hurting her, her sister's screams were so loud and so real her ears hurt -
She's so wrapped up in her spiraling thoughts that she doesn't hear Azriel behind her until he makes himself intentionally known. She swears she feels a shadow brush against her cheek and the wind shifts like it's making room for his presence on the balcony too. She can smell him and while she feels a tendril of tension loosen along her spine, she's so far into her memories that all she can think about is the smell of his cloak that he wrapped around her before decimating those men. The cloak she kept, the cloak that she'd kept close to her at night because that smell reminded her that she was alive and she was safe -
"Gwyn?"
She heard him but she didn't stop punching, couldn't stop hitting something, she was just trying to outrun the monsters in her head, what was the use of having all this training if they were still winning against her every night -
"Gwyn." He was closer now, shadows pouring around her feet, brushing up against her calves cautiously. He was approaching her so carefully it made her heart hurt. She only realizes she's crying when her tears hit the corner of her mouth, her breaths seesawing ruggedly in and out of her chest.
"Sorry," she whispers out in a ragged breath. She's brushing the tears from her face roughly with her uncovered and bruised knuckles which makes her realize how much they ache. Usually, Cassian has them wrap their hands if they're going to go at the punching bag like this but she didn't tonight and now she regrets it. Embarrassment warms her cheeks so much so that she can't look at him. She sniffles miserably and squeezes her eyes closed when another memory rushes the forefront of her mind.
"Here," he says quietly, the edges of a cool cloth tickling her aching knuckles. She looks up with surprise and makes eye contact with him for the first time since training two days ago. He's been gone doing some Night Court official business that even Cassian claims to not know what it is and it's at this moment that she realizes that she's missed him. His face is unreadable but she feels more tension unspooling from between her shoulder blades just looking at him. He looks exactly as he did when she last saw him, unruffled but eyebrows pinched, mouth in a frown, strong shoulders looking like he's carrying the weight of the world and not just some curious shadows.
She sniffles again but takes the cloth with mumbled thanks. Gwyn clears her throat and says with more attitude than she feels, "you know, if you keep scrunching your face like that, it's going to stay that way."
Azriel's eyebrows rise in surprise, lips twitching. He looks like he's trying not to laugh which makes her feel incrementally better about him finding her out here mid nightmare fueled breakdown.
"Maybe this is how I prefer my face," he says smoothly, shifting his weight to his other foot and folding his arms across his chest. Gwyn's eyes track the movement, noting against her better judgement just how broad his chest is, before wincing as she presses too hard on her knuckles. His eyes flick down to her hands before he nods towards the House. "Let's go get those properly cleaned up."
"I can do it, it's fine. I'll clean it up when I get down..." He keeps walking ignoring her rather weak protesting. She didn't actually have anything to clean her knuckles with downstairs, but he shouldn't have to feel responsible for taking care of her when she did this to herself. "Azriel, wait," she growls, stalking after him through the House. He continued ignoring her and turns a corner to a part of the House she had never been to. She hesitates at the mouth of the hallway before curiosity got the best of her and she wanders after him.
Gwyn finds him entering a dark room and all she really manages to catch a glimpse of is a large open window with a small balcony and a dark messy bed. There's soft light spilling in from the bathing room he's entered and when she finally catches up to him, she feels her heartbeat stumble.
There's a large window on the ceiling that's letting in the last shreds of moonlight and it's glancing off his features in a way that highlights all the things about him that she's tried so desperately not to notice the longer she gets to know him. The sharp cut of his jaw, his full bottom lip, the way his hair falls over his eyes when he has his head bowed in thought. He turns to her, a tin of something potent smelling in his palm.
"Can I see?" he asks, his voice a warm caress in the dying light. He reaches his hand out and patiently waits for her to make a decision. She doesn't trust her voice so she nods and walks forward to place her hand in his. They've touched before like this during training but this feels...different. Softer. Quieter. Equally gentle because he never makes her feel uncomfortable and always let's her dictate how much touching they're going to do each session (a fact she didn't notice at first but once she did she almost cried.)
Azriel runs a thumb oh so softly along the middle of her palm, a shiver working it's way through her in response. "This might sting," he says before gently dabbing her blooming bruises. True to his word, it does sting, but then a rolling cool spreads out from the area.
"Oh," she breathes in wonder, watching his fingers work over her hands. His touch is gentle although his skin is rough, she can feel the calluses and small scars on his finger tips as he starts to rub in the salve.
"Our healer makes it in mass for the three of us," he says a hint of a smile in his voice. "She's been making it for us since we were boys. Apparently, we went through a lot of it growing up and she assumed we would continue to need it."
"Rightfully so," Gwyn says with a huff, laughter chasing her statement. "I can't imagine why three teenage boys would need tubs full of salve like this."
"Me either," he hums, falling silent while he continues to work. She shivers again when his fingers softly massage the heal of her palm. While her hands feel cold, the rest of her feels...awake. Aware and warm. "The numbing affect of the salve can make you cold, let me get you a blanket -"
"No, no it's ok, I don't want to take more of your things." The words are out of her mouth before her mind can stop her and she feels him still just as she realizes what she's said. Cauldron boil her, why was she like this? No one, and she means no one knew about this.
"...what things, Gwyn?" His tone is neutral and gives away nothing. She feels ready to hurl herself out of that window in the other room.
"Nothing!" She says quickly, jerking her hand back. "Nothing, really. I mean, like the daggers and the fighting leathers and everything else you've given me. I can handle a little cold." He remains there, staring silently at her. Gwyn swallows, a nervous laugh falling from her lips. She sees now how he can be so effective at his job because she's nervous and he hasn't even said anything. She swallows again, "it's nothing important really. Honestly, it's mostly embarrassing." She laughs again, a pitiful sound even to her ears, and tries to start edging her way out of the bathing room. "Thank you so much for this, so sorry you had to do this. Maybe we can train just weapons at practice today because -"
"Gwyn," he says quietly as she fiddles with her fingers, her knuckles comfortably numb. Gwyn gnaws at her chapped lower lip and drops her sight to the floor. She scuffs the floor with the toe of her boot.
"It's incredibly embarrassing," she acknowledges again, the heat in her cheeks creeping up to her ears. "So the night you...rescued me, you gave me your cloak." She clears her throat and keeps her eyes downcast, her hair, loose from her braid, sliding in front of her face. "And I...kept it."
He remains silent but she can feel the questions radiating off of him and she really would like the ground to open up and swallow her whole.
"...ok," he says quietly after she doesn't volunteer anything further. She knows she's making this worse but she can't seem to make this any less embarrassing for either of them it seems. She peers up at him through the strands of her red hair and notices that he doesn't seem to be as embarrassed as she is thank the Gods. "And this is bad, why?" He prompts, leaning back against the sink.
Gwyn tucks her hair behind her ear and clears her throat, trying to muster up a certain level of bravery she doesn't feel. It's fine, everything is fine. He hasn't run away yet and it will mean less to nothing to him that she sleeps with it because he doesn't see her that way. Not that she wants him to see her any kind of way, it's just that -
Her thoughts going too fast for her to think carefully, she finally blurts out, "I sleep with it. And it usually helps with the nightmares. But it's not helping anymore so I keep ending up on the balcony to train all night but I still can't sleep even after that."
It's so silent in the bathing room that she can hear the way his breathing changes after her admission. How she can hear him over her own hammering heartbeat she isn't sure, but it's like she can feel the way the air changes around them. Heavier, the silence loaded in a way it wasn't before.
"I know that's weird, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that out loud. It's just the only thing that made me feel safe when I first got here and now..."
Azriel is so silent when he moves that she's momentarily taken off guard when he's standing completely in front of her again. There's the watery darkness around them and then there's his shadows which are lazily weaving around his shoulders and tops of his wings. His fingers are hesitant and feather light on her elbow when he speaks. "My cloak helps keep the nightmares away? Makes you feel safe enough to sleep?"
Gwyn can only nod as she bites down on her lip to keep from saying anything else incriminating. That it's not just the cloak but it was his scent in it that first week that kept her from falling apart.
She can hear him swallow, can see his throat bob in front of her he is so close to her. The sun is beginning to rise in earnest now, pale yellow light painting the room behind her. It feels like the silence stretches on forever, so long she's almost unsure if she ever spoke at all.
His next words are spoken so quietly, it feels like he's breathed them into her ear. "Next time you have a nightmare, you can just come to the source." There's something...heated about his words. Something fierce but not frightening. Never frightening. His eyes are so dark and his stare is so intense, she can feel it like a physical touch. Can feel his stare on the tops of her cheeks and the tops of her chest, zings all the way down to her toes.
Gwyn blinks in surprise, prepared for him to say pretty much anything except that. "What?" she breathes, thinking maybe she's been in a dream this whole time.
Azriel draws away from her but keeps their eyes locked. "You heard me. Next time you have a nightmare, you can come find me. You're always welcome in this room."
"This is your room?" She feels like an idiot, she should have made the connection but she was so lost in her storm of thought she hadn't even thought twice about whose bathing room this was. He gives her a dry chuckle and resumes his lean against the sink. It's now light enough in the room that she can see him, and his shadows, more clearly. There's one peering over his shoulder at her, the same one she's caught paying attention to her on multiple occasions. She gives it a shy smile and watches it dive back into the pool of shadows hiding in the divots of his wings.
The thought of finding Azriel and being near him next time she has a nightmare is an overwhelming one. She wraps her arms around herself as another shiver runs through her. This wave of shivers leaves her feeling warm and aching in a very different way than she did when she first entered this room. Gwyn takes a deep steadying breath and nods at him before she can talk herself out of it. "Ok," she agrees, trying to keep the heat from her cheeks. He's invited her to find him when she needs him, she shouldn't be so embarrassed by that because he's clearly not. And she deserves some sleep and if the only way to get it is to get outside of her comfort zone and ask him for help then so be it. Desperate times, desperate measures.
"Good." She watches his eyes take their time reading everything on her face and once he finds what he's looking for, he nods. "Good," he says again. Azriel nods to the door. "Would you like me to walk you back to the library? Or would you like to get an early start with breakfast?"
Before she can answer, her stomach answers for her, growling loudly. She grins up at him sheepishly which makes him laugh. Gwyn shrugs and then points to the sink behind him. "Since I'm apparently just going to be using all your things, can I rinse my face before we eat? My eyes feel as dry as your sense of humor."
This prompts a scoff out of him but he moves out of her way and into his room which she tries very hard not to think about in great depth. She splashes her face and pats it dry, notices how his towel smells like him, and makes a hasty exit out of his living quarters.
Now that she's admitted her most embarrassing secret, maybe her nightmares will finally stop. Or maybe she'll just have nightmares about admitting to sleeping with his cloak forever and she'll never be able to sleep.
Or maybe she'll dream about how he looked when he offered for her to come find him.
Only time would tell.