Chapter Text
Azriel had been pulled out of bed for this. Forced away from the loving embrace of his wife because of another rising conflict in fucking Illyria.
Since the events of Under the Mountain, the Illyrians had gotten too comfortable with being able to do whatever they wanted without consequence. Capital punishment, tribal fights, wing clipping. All the progress they had made in the centuries since Rhys became High Lord was wiped out in the span of 50 years.
The band of males weren't hard to take care of. They were stupid, a group of six, and brandishing a staggering amount of two whole siphons between them. It was pathetic, really. They'd tried to burn Rhys mother's house to the ground, thinking that would get his attention. What they didn't know was that the house had more protection and preservation spells on it than most ancient relics.
Rhysand had anticipated this, and he'd done extensive charm work and wording on the house. It would stay exactly as it did when his mother and sister were living there—one of his mother's half-finished gowns on the table. Theebees coat and scarf strewn over the bannister, their scents lingering in the air.
Azriel understood why his brother wanted to keep the house that way, but personally, he found it unnerving. Whenever he stepped in there, he expected Melina and Theebee to be home any second when, in reality, they had been dead for 500 years.
The males in their defence put up a good fight (Illyrians usually did), but Azriel was better. He'd been at this for a long time. He may be a lord's bastard, but he had seven siphons, and he was a shadowsinger ; at this point, underestimating him was embarrassing.
He washed his hands clean of blood in the kitchen sink, and he was ready to leave when his shadows informed him of a presence lingering outside of the house.
It's a child shadowsinger. They warned.
For the first time that night, Azriel felt guilt grip him. He desperately hoped that the child hadn't just seen him slaughter those males. He hoped that the child hadn't known any of them, that none of them was their father. It had happened before…
Azriel tucked his wings in, wanting to appear non-threatening as he slipped out of the house. He made his footsteps heavy so as not to frighten the child further. If they saw, he would be able to tell, and hopefully, Rhys would wipe their minds. No child should have to suffer with such memories.
He looked around but couldn't see anyone, never mind a child.
Something clattered to his left, and Azriel turned to investigate.
Shadowsinger
His shadows tried to warn, but it was too late; a knife was being plunged into the back of his calf. His leg buckled briefly before he straightened; whoever it was, they didn't know how to aim for anything important; he could still walk on this. He could still kill with the blade sticking out of his leg.
He whipped around, his shadows coiling around him and his wings flaring in all their glory and -
That was a child.
Well fuck.
They were small. So small. Practically a baby. They couldn't be older than five. Azriel was impressed they'd been able to aim the knife at all. The pain was forgotten as he pulled the small dagger from his flesh and tossed it aside.
The child's eyes widened, and they watched as the blade went sailing in the air and landed in a patch of snow. He crouched down to the child's height.
The little Illyrian has vivid blue eyes - not a common trait in Illyria.
Azriel studied them further. They appeared to be a little girl. Their curly hair was a mess . Whoever was responsible for her obviously didn't know how to care for her.
"Hello." He said gently. "Where are your parents?"
His shadows all burst around him at once; look , shadowsinger, look!
It was dark enough that he almost missed it. He would have if it weren't for his shadows, but there in the mess of black hair was a shadow. There was one on her neck, too, another peeking out from the bottom of her left sleeve.
This child was a shadowsinger, and that was the most devastating thing Azriel had ever seen.
They had learned centuries ago that Shadowsingers were made and not born. Made through horrendous trauma in their childhood… This girl was younger than five.
Azriel felt sick.
"I'm not going to hurt you." He promised. At times like this, he desperately wished for his wife. Gwyn was amazing with children, especially the traumatised ones. Her power, while rarely used, could be used to soothe anxious children. Azriel wished for nothing more than that power now.
The little girl hadn't spoken, hadn't taken her eyes off him. She stood perfectly straight, her hands still at her sides like she was some sort of soldier.
Azriel glanced away from her to scan their surroundings, but he couldn't see anyone. Surely someone was looking for her.
Although if she was a shadowsinger… Azriel didn't care who she belonged to. Until he figured out what had happened here, she wasn't staying in Illyria.
"What's your name?" He asked.
The girl didn't answer.
"Are you hurt?" Azriel pressed.
She just stared at him. Her face was expressionless. Azriel was going to kill whoever had hurt this little girl. He wanted to rage against the mere thought.
"Okay." He said gently. He reached out to her, and when she didn't flinch back, Azriel took her hand. "You can come home with me." He said, "It's warm there, and we have food." Those were the only things he'd cared about when he had been her age.
Her wings, his shadows said mournfully.
Azriel glanced behind the little girl, certain that he would find her wings clipped, but instead, to his relief and horror, he found them tightly bound.
Just like his had been.
Azriel swallowed thickly. "Okay, sweetheart. You're okay." He said and reached down to pick her up. She remained limp and floppy in his arms, and that set off more alarm bells. Was she sick?!
Azriel winnowed them home without a second thought. "Gwyn?" He called into the house and then added as an afterthought, so she came downstairs dressed, "We have a guest."
Gwyn popped her head out of the kitchen. She was, thankfully, dressed in fairly modest pyjamas and a robe.
"That was fast. I made hot chocolate- oh, who's this?"
Azriel loosened his hold on the girl at the sight of his wife; he felt himself relax despite the events of the past hour. "I found her in Illyria. She's a shadowsinger."
Gwyn's face fell, but she nodded. She began to hum, and Azriel could sense that secret power of hers buzzing under her skin and permeating her next words.
"You're safe." Gwyn said, "No one is going to hurt you here. My name is Gwyn, and I am safe, and this is Azriel and he is safe. We won't hurt you."
When she got no reaction, she frowned and cocked her head a little.
"What's your name?" She asked and received no response.
She didn't understand. Gwyn switched to Illyrian and repeated her stamens from earlier, "You are safe here."
The girl reacted to that. Her blank expression shifted into one of sadness, and Gwyn's heart ached for her. "What's your name?" She asked in Illyrian.
"I don't got a name." The girl replied.
Gwyn tried her hardest not to react the way she wanted to. She nodded. "That's okay, we'll figure something out. Are you hungry?"
The girl's lower lip trembled, and her shadows dispersed around the house, searching for something.
Gwyn and Azriel shared a look but didn't bother to do anything about it. They wanted her to feel safe, and they had nothing to hide. She was five. What was the worst she could do?
Azriel set the girl down on the table; she was far too small for any of the chairs, and he didn't know where else to put her. He heard Gwyn's intake of breath at the sight of her wings.
She reached for the bindings, and the girl's head snapped towards her. Fear was clear in her eyes.
"I'm going to take this off," Gwyn said. "I'm not going to hurt you. You'll feel better when your wings are freed." She wasn't asking; that much was clear in her tone. Bindings this tightly would likely cause pressure damage if it hadn't already. She went stock still as Gwyn removed the bindings. Her eyes became glassy and vacant as she stared absently at the counter in front of her.
Azriel crouched in front of her and tapped the back of her hand.
"Hey, you're okay." He said, "It's all going to be fine. Do you want some hot chocolate?"
She didn't respond, but Azriel poured her a cup anyway. He handed her the mug, and she just looked at it.
Azriel brought his own mug to his lips and blew on the surface before taking a sip. She watched him and mirrored his actions. Her eyes lit up at the taste, and she drank more.
She'd probably never had chocolate before. It wasn't popular in Illyria, with trade being as difficult as it was for the Illyrians, luxuries as chocolate were hard to come by, and he seriously doubted whoever had this child before Azriel had found her had bothered to give her any sort of variety in food nevermind chocolate.
Azriel himself hadn't had any until his 11th birthday when Rhys had gifted him some. He'd been secretly addicted ever since.
"Azriel." Gwyn murmured calmly, "Call Madja now."
He glanced over at the pile of bandages that Gwyn had been carefully unwinding. They got gradually bloodier the closer she got to the end. She hadn't even reached the final layer when the scent of putrid infection and blood had hit her. She didn't want to remove the last bandages in case that did more harm than good. It looked to her that the winds had clattered around the bindings.
Azriel sent an urgent message to Rhys to send Madja to them with the promise that he would fill him in later.
Gwyn walked around to the other side of the table and crouched next to him.
"I see you like my hot chocolate," she said brightly.
The girl wiped her mouth with the back of her hand "...sorry."
"Don't apologise. You have nothing to apologise for. Are you hungry? What do you like to eat?"
The girl placed the mug down with shaky hands. "Have I been good?"
That caught Gwyn off guard. “You’ve been very good, love,” she said.
“You don't need to earn food here,” Azriel said somewhat sternly to get the point across. “You will never have to earn food again, even if you are bad.”
The girl looked very wary. She didn't believe them. That was okay. They would just prove it to her.
“What do you like to eat?” Gwyn asked.
Her question seemed to distress the girl more than anything.” I… I…” her shadows darted for her, trying to soothe her. Some of them started searching the kitchen, and they gathered around the fruit bowl. “Apples.”
“We have apples,” Gwyn said. “would you like anything else? We have leftover beef stew, or can I cook you something else? Anything you want.”
The child looked like she was about to cry, and Gwyn reached out to her, giving her time to pull away; she took the girl's hand in hers and rubbed her knuckles soothingly.
“I'll re-heat the stew,” Azriel said.
Gwyn stayed with the child, speaking softly with her as Azriel prepared the food and buttered slices of crusty bread under the watchful gaze of her shadows. His own shadows were playful with the girls. Like little dogs, they circled and poked at each other, but like the girl, they were hesitant and jumpy.
Azriel brought the food over, and she began to eat greedily and sloppily… with her hands. They didn’t want to stop her or deter her from eating, so they watched her demolish the stew, dumplings, and bread. She consumed every last drop. It was a relief to see her eat. When he’d picked her up, he’d been startled by how light she was, and he hadn't missed how he could feel her ribs when he held her.
There was a knock on the door while Gwyn was slicing up some apples for the girl. They shared a look, and the girl's posture tightened. Azriel opened the door and greeted Madja. In the anti-chamber, he explained the situation briefly, and Madja nodded in the clinical way she viewed everything.
Gwyn was humming when they walked into the kitchen. “Sweetheart, this is Madja. She’s a healer. She’s going to take a look at your wings and make sure you're not hurt.”
“Am not hurt.” she insisted.
“Your wings look very sore.” Gwyn said carefully, “Madja is very nice. She won't hurt you.” she pushed a little more of her compulsion into those words, until the girl relaxed. Gwyn handed her the bowl of apple slices and peanut butter to distract her while Madja examined her wings. She took one look and began to prepare a pain tonic.
Azriel mixed the pain and sleeping tonic in with another cup of hot chocolate while his shadows distracted the girls.
Gwyn caught the girl’s head in her lap as she drifted off and sighed, finally letting the tears roll down her cheeks. “How bad is it?”
Madja looked down pityingly at the girl. “I don't know if I can save the wings. She has pressure damage down to the bone. She doesn't seem to be in pain, so it's damaged the nerves too. Where did you find her?”
“Windhaven, she was outside of Rhys mother's house. She… she stabbed me in the leg.”
“She what?!” Gwyn asked, horrified.
“She was just scared.” Azriel dismissed, “I’m fine; she has terrible aim.”
“I'm not worried about you. Of course, you're fine. You’re three times her size. Who would arm a child?”
“It is very strange. Especially for a child so young and a girl , it's unheard of they don’t even arm their grown female. We’ll have to get Rhys on it.”
Gwyn helped Madja remove the girl's shirt and turn her onto her stomach. Gwyn inhaled sharply, and Azriel Squeezed her shoulder. She was covered in bruises and ulcers from the pressure damage, and her wings were pale and paper-thin.
“Alright.” Madja said, “I'm concerned about the lack of blood flow to those wings. Contact the High lord. We need a trustworthy Illyrian healer. I need to operate now if this girl has any chance of flying.”
***
Azriel had created boundaries for himself a long time ago when it came to torture. There were lines that he would just not cross for his own sake.
Now though? He could see the damage to the Illyrian girl's back every time he blinked. He could hear her tell them that she didn't have a name. Feel her small bones under his hands and see Gwyn cry.
How dare they?
How could they take something so precious and abuse it? Gwyn and Azriel would do anything for a child, and yet some selfish bastard had tourted theirs. Didn't they know children were a gift?
Cut.
Slice.
Stab.
“Where did you get her?”
Crunch.
Break.
Snap.
“Who did you take her from?”
The male was openly weeping now; they’d already established that the girl wasn't his daughter.
“I don't know.” he panted. “She was procured for us. The perfect candidate.”
“For what?” Azriel grits out.
The male closed his eyes, breathing through the pain. He shook his head, and Azriel lifted Truth Teller again, squeezed his jaw, and then began to pry it open. He didn't need his teeth to talk.
The man screamed when Azriel began slicing his gums with truth teller and prying his teeth out from the root. It only took four teeth for him to talk.
He was choking on blood by this point, coughing and spluttering as he sobbed.
Azriel couldn't help but remember the nameless girl, though. The way she’d been practically mute, watching her eat like it was her first and last meal. Gwyn crying.
“For what?” he demanded again. “What did you have her for?”
Blood dribbled out the male's mouth down his chin and dripped onto the floor.
“For you.” he wailed. “We were training her… for you. The Shadowsinger's perfect adversary.” he laughed bitterly. “it wasn't my idea; I swear it was Michas, but you already killed him tonight… who better to destroy the shadowsinger than another shadowsinger, just like you…"
It all came out then.
Much to Azriel's horror.
The girl had been selected especially for him. Apparently, her parents bore some resemblance to himself and Gwyn. They wanted him to sympathise with the girl and grow to love her, so when she killed him as she was being trained to do, they wouldn't expect it, and the betrayal would hurt that much more.
Micha had found an old text on Shadowsingers, and he'd begun to poke around. He'd spoken to people who had known Azriel's father and about Azriel's childhood.
They'd locked the girl away, starved her, beat her and bound her wings, just like Azriel. They never named her. They didn't see any point in doing so. She wasn't a child. She was a weapon.
The Shadowsinger's perfect adversary.
Only they had been greedy, and impatient. They hadn't anticipated how tedious training the child would be and how long it would take. She wasn't even five yet. In the meantime, they had decided to start terrorising the High lords' properties.
Rhys' mother's house was supposed to be a message. It had gone so wrong.
The male had no idea how the girl had gotten there. He didn't know she'd been brought along, but he didn't put it past Micha. The male was twisted; he'd wanted to instil violence and destruction into the young girl. So why not let her witness Arsen?
Azriel theorised that the girl had recognised him from her teachings and had tried to take him out, but she was still so small. Too young to have any real power in her body.
They hadn't planned to deploy her until she was 10, or 12 at the latest.
Her shadows were new. They'd come to her a few short weeks ago after a particularly bad punishment.
Azriel relished in killing the male when he was satisfied he had no more information for him.
Cassian and Rhysand filled him in on what they had learned through their own respective means.
Rhysand had a lead on the possible girl's mother, and Cassian has found where the girl had been kept.
Azriel investigated both.
He checked out the house that the girl had been 'raised' in.
There was no sign of a child living here. The house smelled like males. He found two separate bedrooms, both belonging to males by the looks of it. The house was a mess, littered with rotting food and rubbish.
His shadows drifted forward this way shadowsinger.
Azriel followed them to a locked door. His shadows picked the lock, and when he opened it, he was faced with a set of stairs. They lead down to a basement.
Azriel swallowed thickly. He picked up the girl's scent in the air here.
It's safe shadowsinger the shadows tried to soothe.
He swallowed thickly and began to descend the stairs. The room she was kept in was tiny. He used a fae light to illuminate the room when he discovered that there weren't any installed.
He began searching the room. It reeked of fear and excrement. The conditions she was kept in were worse than his own. At least his prison had been clean, courtesy of his mother.
The girl had a single bed roll in the corner, a threadbare blanket, and some sort of doll.
Azriel approached the bed roll and crouched down to pick up the doll. It was probably a great comfort to her. He'd had a stuffed pegasus when he'd been her age. It had been a tremendous comfort to him. His only toy made and gifted to him by his mother.
He picked up the girl's toy and froze.
It wasn't a doll.
It was a pegasus .
He knew that they had been trying to replicate exactly the way that he had been raised, but this… there was no way they could have known this.
The only people who knew about his pegasus were his mother, sire, stepmother and… his half-brothers.
Azriel knew for a fact they hadn't spoken to his mother. She was assumed dead, and her caretaker would've told him if anyone had come poking around.
The only person left alive was one of his half-brothers. Brutus had died during the blood rite, but Mathias was still alive.
Azriel felt his blood boil at the thought of his brother. He gripped the pegasus in one hand and, stormed out of the house, and took to the sky.
He rubbed at the stitching down the pegasus' back, and it was the same. He'd recognise his mother's shaky work anyway. This was his pegasus' he'd thought his father had thrown it away as a punishment. He was wrong. His brother had taken it.
Azriel could kill him for this.
The only reason he had been allowed to live was because he was a lord now. Killing him would invoke outrage in Illyria. They had allowed him to kill his father and stepmother, and killing Matthius would get him in the sort of trouble Rhysand couldn't defend him from.
But if he found out that Matthius was involved with the girls suffering, he would kill him.
Matthius was stupid and easily manipulated, he couldn't be blamed entirely for telling people what had happened to Azriel as child. He had no sympathy for his younger half-brother. Azriel had killed his parents and older brother, after all.
Azriel landed heavily outside of the Raven's estate.
It was a mess, as per usual. Rhysand hadn't been able to strip the Illyrian Lord title from his brother as that fell under the higher-ups in Illyria and not Rhysand's jurisdiction as per tradition. But Rhys had stripped most of the assets and always taxed him relentlessly to ensure his brother's wealth was practically non-existent.
Rhys and Cassian sprung surprise inspections on him just to keep Matthias on his toes.
He didn't wait to be let in by a maid. He burst in, "Matthias!" He called his shadows, disbursing to find his half-brother.
The Manor no longer paralysed him with fear like it had when he'd been a young male. It had taken centuries and lots of support from Gwyn, but he had come to realise that this was just a building. Walls and a roof. It wasn't what had happened to him. It wasn't his father's abuse.
Azriel was free. Powerful and vengeful.
Matthias began to descend the stairs.
"Baby brother." He sneered, "You usually send the other bastards. To what do I owe the pleasure ? Come to trash the place again?"
Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, and his shadows shot out to punch his brother in the throat just to shut him up.
Azriel hated how much they resembled one another. They were the same height, they had the same set to their shoulders, the same nose and the same dark hair.
Matthias choked, and his shadows cackled in response. Azriel held up the pegasus. "What is this?"
Matthias approached him but knew better than to get too close, "I was wondering where that went."
"Who have you been talking to?" He snarled.
Matthias's eyes flashed with fear. Good. Azriel was in no mood for games. Gwyn was expecting him back. She'd need help with the girl.
"A male approached me in a tavern. He put something in my drink. I couldn't hold my tongue. He made me tell him everything. About you, about father, how he treated you. Where you were kept, what you ate, how much you slept, it was… strange." Azriel believed him only because it was such a shameful thing to admit that he had been drugged and taken advantage of for information.
"And this?" Azriel asked, holding up the pegasus.
"...I took that," Matthias admitted. "You were on a visit with your mother, and I was… angry that your mother made you that. My mother never made me anything." He said like it was excusable.
"Your mother let you eat!" Azriel bellowed, and he couldn't believe the audacity of this stupid male. "Your mother let you stretch your wings! She let you outside whenever you wanted! She let you see the fucking daylight! This was my one thing, my one thing." Azriel wanted to throttle him.
Matthias held his hands up in surrender. "I was nine, Azriel. Just a boy."
He was right.
He always forgot how close he was in age with his half-brothers. They had always seemed so much older to him, so much bigger. There had been a six-year age gap between himself and long-dead Brutus and only a four-year age gap between him and Matthias.
That was one of the reasons he'd let his brothers live for what they did to his hands. They had been children, prompted by their mother to maim and kill their strange brother in the basement.
Matthias had apologised about his hands. About all he endured. It wasn't enough, though. It never would be.
Brutus never apologised. He grew into a rotten, arrogant male and died during the blood rite a few years before Azriel became Carythian. He hoped Brutus watched him win the thing from his place in hell.
"Tell me about the male you spoke to." He demanded.
***
Gwyneth Berdara didn't pace. She wasn't an anxious person. She hadn't been for centuries; she’d gotten used to waiting and worrying over her husband, but right now, she was pacing. Not for Azriel, though. Her uniformed footsteps up and down the healer's wing weren't because of him. The Illyrian girl had been in surgery for hours now, and no one had bothered to update her.
Azriel had left with his brothers to get to the bottom of the girl's origins. It was the early hours of the morning, but they didn't care. Justice couldn't wait, or more importantly, Azriel wouldn't wait. This girl had been neglected and abused to the point her power had twisted into something dark, and she might lose her wings.
She sensed Azriel before she saw him. It was a sense she had developed over the centuries.
He met her halfway, and she wrapped her arms around him. He hugged her so tightly that he lifted her feet off the ground. He smelled like Illyria.
Gwyn inhaled his scent underneath anyway. "You've been gone hours."
"I'm sorry. I had to chase something down with… with Matthias."
"What does he have to do with this?"
Azriel sighed. "You're not going to like it."
"No. I don't think I will." She agreed.
Gwyn was ready to kill Matthias when he finished his explanation. He had to physically restrain her and talk her down.
"That poor baby," Gwyn said, staring at the door to the medical room the Illyrian girl was in. She was crying again. Azriel hated it when she cried. "At least she's safe now. She's with us, and she's so young. Hopefully, she'll forget everything… What about her parents? If she was taken from them for this… does she have anywhere to go?"
"Rhys and Cassian are looking into it." He said.
"Good. She deserves a family."
"She does," Azriel said.
Gwyn rested her head against his shoulder, and they waited in silence for Madja to come out and update them.
The Illyrian healer stepped out first, looking exhausted.
Gwyn shot to her feet. "Well?"
"We did everything we could." The healer said, addressing Azriel. Naturally, he was a male.
"Her wings?"
"She might be able to fly. The wings are extremely weak but we managed to save most of the nerves and the necessary arteries. She'll need to work on strengthening them. The physical therapy will be brutal, but she could fly again."
Azriel nodded, and the healer took that as a dismissal.
Madja stepped out next and gave them the rundown of the girl's injuries and everything they had done to try to correct the wings and promote healing.
Madja let them sit by the girl's bedside as she slept.
"...she needs a name," Gwyn said quietly as she held the girl's hand. Tracing her knuckles and counting her small fingers.
"Do you have something in mind?" Azriel asked.
"...Jade."
Azriel inhaled sharply. "Gwyn–"
"We're keeping her. I've decided." She said in a no-nonsense tone. "Think about it, Azriel. Even if her parents do want her, she's a shadowsinger now. She could be a danger to them. They might not want her. She's better off with us. She's safe with us. Between my power to soothe her and your power to train her in the ways of a shadowsinger, I can't think of anything more perfect. It's fate."
She made some very good points. They didn't know anything about the girl's parents. They could be as bad or worse than the males that had been raising
Jade,
the girl. Shadowsingers were shunned and feared. Azriel would know. That wasn't the sort of childhood anyone deserved. She had been through so much already.
But this girl belonged to somebody. A couple out there could be grieving their lost daughter as badly as they had grieved the loss of Gwyn's pregnancies. Azriel wasn't going to be selfish here and keep the girl if that was the case.
"We'll look for her family." Azriel said, "And we'll do a thorough assessment of them." He said, staring at the girl's hand in his wife's. "...but if it doesn't work out… I will speak to Rhys. See what he can do."
Gwyn smiled at him, and tears began to well in her eyes. He could see it on her face. Read it in her body language. This girl was her daughter now, Gwyn had already decided. She'd been a mother for so long that she just hadn't had a child to pour her love into. Until now.
Azriel was conflicted about how to feel. He wanted this for Gwyn, for the girl and for himself, but he also didn't want to get his hopes up. If Jade had a family looking for her, Azriel would accept that, and he knew Gwyn would, too. They'd have to.
The girl woke up with the sunrise the next morning. Gwyn had crawled into bed with her when she'd started shivering in her sleep and was holding her. The girl had snuggled into his wife's warmth with a little sigh, and Gwyn had blinked back tears as she carded her fingers through the girl's messy hair.
Azriel hadn't slept that night. Gwyn had nodded off for a few minutes here and there, and he had watched over them. Madja came in to check over the girl's bandages and give her another pain and healing tonic before she flittered out of the room again.
Azriel watched as shadows that weren't his own explored the room. They danced over Gwyn's cheeks, and the points of her ears, but his wife was more than used to this now, so she slept through the touch of shadows. They came to him next, muttering one phrase over and over again.
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger
Azriel shadowsinger.
The girl began to rouse from sleep, and Gwyn began to sing, not humm like she usually did. She sang a quiet lullaby as she anticipated the girl's panic upon waking and needed to soothe it so she didn't hurt herself.
She sang Azriel’s favourite song. There was nothing special about it. It was about a cherry tree and the birds that lived there. By the time she finished, the girl was wide awake and relaxed. She didn't move from Gwyn's arms. If anything, she huddled closer.
"You're safe," Gwyn promised. "I know you're confused. The healer, Madja, looked at your wings and saw that they were hurt, so she fixed them for you while you were asleep."
The girl whined a little as she tried to flex her wings.
"It's okay." Gwyn said, "You'll feel much better soon. Do you want some food?"
The girl looked uneasy but nodded.
Gwyn helped her sit up, but when she went to move away, the girl gripped her shirt and didn't let go.
"It's okay. I'll stay. I'm right here." Gwyn settled back against the pillows and carefully propped her in her lap so her wings didn't have any pressure on them.
The girl looked over at Azriel and stared at him for an uncomfortable amount of time. Gwyn had never wished so desperately to have Rhys and Feyre's power to read minds.
"Azriel shadowsinger." She said her voice trembling.
Azriel did his best to smile. This little girl had been raised to kill him.
Her shadows wrapped around her like a blanket, and Gwyn cast him a worried glance.
"I'll go find us some food." He said.
Gwyn nodded and focused her attention back on the girl.
"Do you know what I found when you were asleep?" She began.
The girl looked wary and didn't reply.
"I found your name," Gwyn said like it was a secret. The girl perked up considerably.
"I have name?"
"Of course you do." Gwyn said, "It was just lost for a while because you were in the wrong place… you were with those bad males, but now you're not. I've found your name."
"What my name?"
Gwyn smiled, "Your name is Jade." She fussed with the girl's hair. "Do you like it?"
"Jade." She repeated, unsure. Her shadows curled around her ears, and Gwyn could hear them chattering away, but like with Azriel's shadows, she hardly knew what they were saying.
Eventually, Jade nodded. "My name Jade." She tried it out.
Gwyn loved the way she said it, how her heavy Illyria accent held the word. Her name .
When Azriel walked back in with a tray of fruit and bread to pick from, Jade's shadows jumped towards him, and they investigated both the food and the food.
Azriel settled the tray down and sat on the edge of the bed. "I know that you are scared of me, but I am not your enemy. Ask your shadows. I am not lying to you." The girl looked contemplative, and Azriel waited for her response. When it became clear she wasn't going to give one, he responded, "You don't need to be scared… but it's okay if you are. Gwyn and I are going to take good care of you for now. We will never hurt you, I promise."
Azriel reached into his shadow void and pulled out the Pegasus he'd loved as a child and that he knew the girl must love now.
She gasped and snatched it from his hands and hugged it tightly to her chest. " Mine ."
Azriel's heart ached. "Yes, all yours."
She hugged the pegasus to her chest "My name Jade now."
Azriel locked eyes with Gwyn.
She shrugged a little guilty, and Azriel would be mad if it didn't feel so right.
"Yes." He said, "Your name is Jade, and this pegasus is yours."
For the first time since meeting her, the girl Jade smiled.