Amren didn’t know what had gotten into her High Lord that he willingly made a risky bargain with the Hybern’s Heiress.

But whatever the cost, it was worth it.

Call it a hunch, or premonition, but after Rhysand made that bargain with Arwen, Azriel’s condition only worsened. Had Arwen not been there, they might as well lost Az again as the infection on his wound came back with such vengeance, as if rebelling against Arwen’s treatment. Azriel spent his days being in and out of consciousness. The Shadowsinger could barely keep his eyes open for a few seconds that Amren began to suspect that Az was actually brain dead.

The Second-In-Command of the Night Court received a slap on the back of her head from Mor for that remark.

“That is mean,” protested Arwen softly as she gently examined Az’s pupil movement under the light. A mild amused expression graced the plane of her face as she took a glance at Amren and Cass who had leaned in curiously to see Az. “You see how his eyes follow the light?” she said with a small smile, “He’s not brain dead.”

“That’s unfortunate,” mumbled Amren sarcastically, but her relief didn’t go unnoticed by Arwen, or Mor and Cassian whose chuckles rumbled deep in his chest.

“So when is he going to be able to start kicking ass again?”

“Kicking ass? Not anytime soon.”

“How about talking? He hasn’t talked to us for more than a week now. I think he does it in purpose.”

“He is in great need to rest, Cassian,” defended Arwen casually.

“You don’t know him like we do. He is a tough bastard,” chirped Mor, “I think I agree with Cassian. Az is probably pretending to be asleep everytime we are around.”

“I wonder why,” murmured Amren. Her sarcastic remark went unnoticed as Mor, like a kid, poked the bandage around Azriel’s chest and narrowed her eyes as if testing the unconscious Shadowsinger.

“Mor. Don’t do that,” frowned Arwen while an annoyed slash amused smile threatened to crack on her face.

The petite female grinned at the healer in response and proceeded to poke Azriel more enthusiastically, forcing Arwen to shield him from Mor with her hands. Mor giggled and shrugged. “Worth a try.”

Meanwhile, Cassian was waving a feather against Azriel’s face.

“Where do you even get that?!” Arwen quickly snatched the feather and folded her arms around her chest, frowning in distaste as she glared at him and Mor. “Stop it.”

Cassian lifted his hands in surrender and retreated with a shit eating grin etched on his face.

“Such children,” grumbled Amren, making Arwen break a smile, “Seems like we both are pretty much the adults around here.” With that Amren walked out of Azriel’s room, leaving Arwen smiling a little to herself.

“Are they gone?”

A soft male voice behind her made her turn. Arwen’s smile remained as she trained her eyes on the Shadowsinger.

“They are. You’re safe now.”

“Good. Thanks for stopping Mor and Cassian. I almost sneeze and undo all my stitches when Cass put the feather on my nose.”

The fact that Azriel said those words flatly with his pale, serious face, made Arwen took a second longer to realize that the Shadowsinger was actually making a joke. She chuckled, shaking her head at him.

“That is quite a dark joke, Azriel.”

Despite feeling somewhat cold, a warmth spread around his chest when he heard his name rolling off of her tongue. He cracked a smile at the beautiful high fae, wishing to drown in her azure blue eyes.

Azriel kept his eyes a little too long on hers, and Arwen couldn’t help but notice how many of her patients had stared at her like he did. She knew she was a high fae; nevertheless she didn’t feel that she was the same as them. She didn’t know; maybe it was the fact that she was the only one left of her kind, or maybe because she was the offspring of the cruelest monarch of the fae kind. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked him to fill in the silence while cutting off her train of thought.

“Much better.”

“On the scale of one to ten, how painful is your back right now?”

“No pain at all.”

Arwen needed only to raise a brow for Azriel to tell her the truth.

“…Five and a half,” he admitted with a sigh, “But I’d rather feel the pain than to be under again. I’ve been sleeping for far too long now.”

“But sleeping helps you heal faster, also distracts you from the pain,” replied Arwen with light question in her tone.

“I don’t like being unaware of my surroundings,” he explained. 

Arwen nodded. “I understand. Then I will reduce the sedative in your potion and make something up for the pain management on your back. Let me check your injury. Can you get up? Let me help you.”

Normally Azriel would never let anyone touch him. He’d rather bleed trying to sit up himself, but he couldn’t pass the chance of being close to her. Arwen strategically placed her arm around his back, careful not to bother his injury while she helped support him as he sat up on his bed. The small movement was quick to tire him out, but he expertly kept a straight face as she examined him.

There were a couple things that Azriel noticed at the moment. First, she was strong enough to support his weight yet was able to gracefully remained gentle, seemingly used to care for wounded patients like him. Also, he could smell the faint lavender soap on her. It was comforting, sweet lovely. It fit her nicely…

Arwen gently unwrapped his bandage and studied his injury. The black veins now nearly gone save for a small amount around the wound which to Arwen’s relief, was healing faster than she anticipated. 

“Alright. I think we can start giving you a new topical ointment for the wound. Give me a moment.”

As she turned to leave, Azriel caught her arm, halting her. Their eyes locked into each other, and suddenly Az forgot what he actually wanted to say to her.

Heck, he probably just didn’t want her to leave.

“You saved me,” he finally said after a moment too long, “I owe you.”

“As far as I’m concerned,” Arwen gave him a benevolent smile, her soft hand rested gently on his hand, “We are even, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel immediately knew what she was referring to—That night with Keir. The thought only bring sour memory inside his head. He let go of Arwen reluctantly, watching her back as she disappeared from his room.

***

Days went by and Azriel grew stronger and stronger every day under Arwen’s care. Soon, he could no longer feign being asleep whenever Mor or Cassian came to bother him. And in a couple of weeks, despite Arwen’s warning, Azriel was flying again.

Tonight, the whole members of the Night Court were going to the House of Wind for a dinner.

“I didn’t realize I was invited. I thought only the court members can enter the House of Wind. What is the occasion anyway?” asked Arwen as she gently rocked sleepy Thamrin in her arms.

“I don’t know if you haven’t heard already, but the High Lady and pretty much everyone have considered you family. Welcome to the cult,” mumbled Cassian with a smirk that made Arwen suspect that she was indeed entering a cult. “Tonight will be a formal thanksgiving dinner for Azriel’s return to the land of living,” grinned Cassian in a suspicious way, “You are his healer so naturally you are invited.”

She didn’t feel like socializing, especially not with these people. Despite how much kindness they had shown her and Tham, she still felt like a sore thumb among them, especially in a social setting.

“I don’t know, Cassian…”

The Illyrian warrior shrugged, his wings tugged behind him neatly. “I’d say it’s not an obligation, but it will be a very rude offense to reject a High Lord’s invitation.”

Arwen let out a soft sigh, and Tham wiggled in her arms to face Cassian. “Am I invited too?” asked the boy curiously.

“Oh yes, little one. Everyone in this house is invited to the party,” replied Cassian with a wolfish grin on his face. Thamrin cheered at the prospect of joining a ‘party’. “I’ll see you tonight, Arwen. Wear something fancy.”

“I don’t have fancy—” she paused mid speech as Cassian strode away from her, “….clothes,” she murmured to herself.

Most of her and Thamrin’s clothes were what was left in her apothecary since the attack of Velaris. She and Thamrin didn’t have any formal clothes left; now she had only hours left to go to the market to find something for both of them to wear.

“So are you not going to sleep, ion nin?” she tapped the little boy's back with her hand comfortingly 

“Mmm no,” murmured Thamrin.

“Do you still want to go to that party?” asked Arwen while she buried her nose in his dark hair and inhaled deeply, lovingly kissing her son's head. 

“Yes!!” cheered Thamrin, his eyes lit up at the idea, drawing a smile from Arwen.

“In that case, I guess we’re going shopping.”

The suggestion was responded with an excited clap from Thamrin. The boy’s chubby face stretched out with an ear to ear smile as a blonde, petite figure stuck out her head from outside of Arwen’s door.

“Did someone say shopping?” questioned Mor with a huge grin on her face.

***

“That is nice yes, to wear every other day for a casual stroll,” commented Mor, “But let’s try that one.”

“And this?”

“That’s not so bad.”

“This?”

“Too plain.”

“But I like it.”

“Then let’s try that too. How about…” Mor sift through the dresses in the shop rack and pulled a shiny, silver dress that would’ve shown so much skin, “…this one?” she said with an expectant eyes.

Arwen let out a soft chuckle. “That? That dress is so tiny,” she pointed out.

“That’s the point,” said Mor convincingly, “You have great assets. You have to flaunt them, Arwen.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know, Mor.”

“Try it for me. Please pretty please?” pouted Mor, hugging the silver dress to her chest with a childlike expression.

Arwen smiled fondly at the supposedly one of the most deadliest female warrior throughout the Night Court. She didn’t know that Morrigan could be so…adorable.

“Fine. I’ll humor you,” Arwen gave up taking the dress from Mor’s hand. The material was surprisingly light. Very light. Just like most of the clothes they sell in the fancy boutique. 

That afternoon Mor practically forced Arwen to try all the dresses she deemed appropriate, though in Arwen’s eyes some of them were mostly far from decent. So much skin to show.

“Please wear this red dress to the dinner. Come on,” pleaded Mor.

“It’s almost like a sleeping night gown, Morrigan. I don’t even have one nearly as revealing as that,” countered Arwen, “I’ll wear this other one. Even this is revealing enough for me. Look at the slit on this dress.”

Arwen spread out the long white champagne dress on both of her arms. The dress was simple yet elegant and timeless. The color glinted slightly gold only when the light hit it right. Arwen was in love with the color of the beautiful dress. But the spaghetti strap on it was thin, connecting to the neckline that was teasing the border between decent and not decent—at least for her usual standard. The one that worried Arwen the most, though—was the slit at the side of the dress. It was cut rather high towards her mid thigh than what was deemed normal for her.

“That is not so bad,” thought Mor out loud. Before Arwen could change her mind, Mor quickly added, “The choice is either this beautiful champagne dress or this smoldering red one. I swear the red one makes you look hot,” convinced Mor.

Arwen blushed. “Thank you, Mor. But I think I feel too old to dress as…hot, as you put it.”

“Nonsense!” cried Mor dramatically, wrapping an arm around the healer’s shoulders, “We are immortals and we are not a nun. We can and we must look hot always,” she declared, eliciting a giggle from Arwen.

From slightly afar, Thamrin watched his nana and Mor talking, his feet dangling from the sofa. “Cassian was right,” he whispered to the kind shop attendant who sat next to him.

“Yes? What did he say?” she asked, looking at the little boy rather fondly.

The little boy shrugged “He says females are indecisive when it comes to shopping,” he mumbled with his innocent child voice and continued flying his miniature war bird to kill the time. The shop attendant clasped her mouth, trying to conceal her laughter with a cough.

Mor was meaning to pay for her dress, but as expected, Arwen refused and won. After paying for her and Thamrin’s new clothes, Arwen looked at the time and realized that the three of them should head home.

“You go ahead, I have something left to do here,” said Mor to Arwen casually.

“Alright. I’ll meet you outside,” she replied as she adjusted her hold on Thamrin and left the boutique.

Mor grinned to herself and turned to the pile of clothes that Arwen had tried earlier. She didn’t know how anyone could be patient with her, but Arwen never snapped even as Mor pushed her to try about thirty dresses non stop.

“That, that, that, this one… and that,” she pointed at the dresses one by one.

“Alright miss. I’ll have these dresses packed for you,” answered the shop attendant.

“No, no. I don’t like those five dresses. They look…,” she made a so-so gesture with her hand. “The rest of them, though—I want it all. Put it on my tabs. Have it sent to the estate, will you? And don’t forget that one red dress.”

The shop attendant had this awestruck look about her feature. “I will. Thank you for your abundant purchase,” she beamed.

***

Walking hand in hand with little Tham, Arwen beamed. “Don’t you look dashing, malthen lass nin (my golden leaf),” she praised, making the little boy proudly puff his chest up, “Soon the little girls are going to swoon over you,” she added teasingly, flicking his small nose with her finger, causing the little boy to giggle.

“We’re here at the pickup point,” announced Mor, grinning at her and Tham like a Cheshire cat as if she had an evil plan brewing in her mind.

The Third-In-Command of the Night Court was dressed in an elegant, shiny black dress that hugged her petite frame snugly. The dress fitted her form perfectly and flaunted her curves, the low cut on its neck proudly showing the swelling top part of her 'assets', turning heads all the way as they walked towards the pick up point.

“I know that you always liked to dress up, but that dress is particularly stunning on you, my friend,” praised Arwen with a smile, “You should see the look those males are giving you.”

“Why, thank you!” she beamed, “But we both know they aren’t really my speed. I’m more into female,” she said in a rather flirty way to Arwen. If Azriel knew she was trying to flirt with her, he’d be so pissed…

The thought made Mor’s grin widened. But soon the table was turned.

“Like the one in the Theatre?”

Mor blinked at the knowing guess that Arwen shot at her, rendering her caught off guard. A heat rushed up to Mor’s cheek as the memory of the girl she fancied came to mind, causing Arwen to grin rather triumphantly.

“How do you…?”

“I have eyes, Morrigan,” she teased her back, elbowing her lightly. “You should ask her out already.”

For a moment, Mor blushed furiously. She eventually shook herself and straightened. “We’ll see about that,” she said, holding her smile back. “And just so you know, the stares weren’t just for me,” she pointed out, eyeing Arwen’s appearance approvingly. A grin grew on her face, “Nice leg.”

This time, it was Arwen’s turn to blush. “Mor—”

The sounds of mighty wings flapping against the air cut Arwen’s words. With a loud thud, three Illyrian warriors landed gracefully before them. But only one caught her eyes.

Azriel was staring at her and she couldn’t possibly looked away from those trapping hazel eyes. She noticed how well he looked right now and felt a swell of pride knowing that she had a role helping nursing him back to his healthy self. She caught his eyes appraising her form, and she couldn’t control the fact that it sent a pleasant chill down her spine. Her cheek suddenly burned.

“I got you, little one,” declared Cassian, causing Thamrin to yell in victory as he was being scooped up by the Illyrian general’s arms.

"Toss me in the air, Cassie!” 

That overjoyed request successfully broke the spell between Arwen and the Shadowsinger. She paled when she saw Tham grinning at her and waved.

“Don’t toss—Oh no!” she cried, dread rising in her chest as Cassian flew away with her son with a jaw dropping speed. She shot Azriel a panicked look. “Please tell me he’s not going to do that—”

“I don’t—”

“He’s a baby!” she exclaimed, azure blue eyes wide with worry and concern. She was freaking out, remembering the times she often watch Cassian fool around whilst flying. If he’s going to toss her little Tham and fail to catch him—

The Shadowsinger put his coarse hands on her bare arms, effectively silencing her. Her heart raced within her chest, not because of him but of the possibilities of what could go wrong.

“Believe me, Cassian will never let any harm come to your son,” he said in his smooth, deep voice.

She looked into the depth of his eyes, slowly letting the sincerity in them calming her. She began to nod when a child’s frantic cry set her instinct ablaze.

Arwen snapped her eyes to the starry night sky to see a small child figure free falling from the sky. She clamped her mouth with her hand, eyes began to sting when suddenly another figure with a large wings shot down from the sky and caught the child. He soared up to the sky again with the boy howling with glee and laughter.

Azriel too, had to turn his head to watch Cassian with Thamrin. He clenched his jaw—dick. He’d told him no funny business while Arwen is present. And now Cass went about tossing her son from the sky.

He turned to Arwen who had an absolute mortification on her expression. Her innocent eyes glazed with unshed tears. Noticing how the female was shaking with shock, the Shadowsinger couldn’t help the protective instinct that rose within his chest.

“Hey, look at me,” he urged her softly, gaining her attention. “It’s going to be alright. Look,” he gestured to the direction of the entrance of the House of Wind, “They made it. Your son is safe and sound, probably having too much fun too.”

Arwen turned her azure blue eyes at Az, and the look she gave him completely disarm him, tugging at his heartstrings. He would kill Cassian for this.

“I am sorry for Cassian,” he apologized, eyes soft as he looked at her. “I will talk to him. He will never do that again.”

Arwen still had her heart hammered against her chest, but his soothing voice had started to slowly calm her nerves. “No need,” she answered shakily, “I will talk to him myself.”

She watched as Azriel took off his jacket and wordlessly draping it over her shoulders. She caught the smell of his faint masculine soap, and the warmth from his jacket gently seeping into her body.

“Thank you,” she finally said, looking slightly down, realizing that she was just freaking out in front of him.

“That’s alright. Do you need a minute?”

She tilted her head. “A minute for what?”

“To calm yourself before I fly us up there. We’re the only ones left.”

“Oh,” she replied lamely, then started looking around.

“Where’s Mor?”

“Rhysand has flown her up while you were being too preoccupied with Cassian’s stunt,” he told her with a gentle smile, one that she thought was almost teasing—somewhat.

She never quite saw him smiled like that. He rarely even smile; but this… Arwen was surprised when she found herself thinking that the Shadowsinger looked rather charming with that smile. She blushed.

Half comfortable silence passed between them, and Azriel took his time to, again, silently admiring her looks. She had always been beautiful. But tonight, with that dress hugging her form…. She was like the beautiful full moon personified. Stunning. Exquisite. The way her dress shaped her small waist and curved around her round hips made his knees feel like jelly. She was absolutely breathtaking.

“I’m ready,” she said timidly, pulling his jacket closer to her form.

Azriel gave her a benevolent smile and nodded. A look of slight uncertainty passed on his expression as he asked her a question.

“Do you… do you mind if I…?”

She gave him a nod and braced herself as Azriel gently scooped her up into his arms bridal style.

Both their hearts were pounding, hazel met azure blue as they were trapped in each other’s gaze. Reluctantly, Azriel pried his eyes off of her to prepare for their flight.

“Wait!”

Azriel turned his eyes back to Arwen, waiting for her to continue. She looked down to his chest, cheek flushed with a mix of embarrassment and anxiety.

“I…” she bit her lip in uncertainty, “I never fly before,” she admitted meekly, “Please be kind to me.”

The Shadowsinger gave her a fond smile and nodded, trying with all his might to ignore the temptation to press his lips against hers as she nervously chewed at her lip. He fought the urge to gulp.

“I am not Cassian, Arwen,” he said with a very subtle playful tone in his otherwise smooth voice. “I promise I will protect you. I will not drop you.”

A shy yet thankful smile lit up her face.

“If you’re really nervous, you can try closing your eyes,” he suggested.

She took a deep breath and heeded his advice. For once, Azriel let himself look at her all he wanted without hiding the reverence upon gazing at her beautiful face. At their proximity, with her eyes closed, he could openly admire her angelic face. He loved the way her dark lashes closed together to form a soft curtain on her cheek as she closed those doe eyes. The way she bit on her lip as she fidgeted nervously upon the impending flight he had to take. The faint scent of lavender soap on her skin... 

“Hold on.”

On his cue, Arwen tightened her grip on Azriel’s shoulders.

The Shadowsinger spread his wings and began to take the flight. He couldn’t exactly float up to the sky as he needed his wings to start strong upon their initial flight. But he did everything he could to make it comfortable for her.

The sounds of the wings flapping against the wind entered her ears. Her whole body tensed as she felt them being lifted to the sky. She instinctively leaned closer to the Shadowsinger, praying he would keep his promise to not drop her.

After he reached a certain height, Azriel turned to gaze at Arwen.

“You can keep your eyes closed, but the city of Velaris at night is best to look from this angle.”

There was temptation in his smooth voice. Arwen began to peek, but at the first sight of being so high up above the ground, she cowered and buried her face in his chest, forcing her eyes shut.

Arwen could feel the deep rumble of his chest as he chuckled. She didn’t think she’d ever heard him chuckle, but she guessed that she had made herself looked like a fool in front of him a lot tonight.

“Don’t be afraid. Be brave,” he encouraged her. “Open your eyes and look at me.”

Her heart hammered in her chest and she was sure that the Shadowsinger could hear it, but it was the least of her problem.

“Look at me.”

She finally opened her eyes, timidly, finding him smiling gently at her. She was still somewhat fearful of the height below them and kept her eyes focused solely on his hazel ones. The easiness in his otherwise intense eyes slowly easing her into the road of calmness.

“Not many people have the chance to see Velaris from this vantage point. Trust me.”

She began to reluctantly take her eyes off of his, her hands still gripping tightly around his shoulders as she braved herself to look down.

The city of Velaris was on itself, like a starlit night sky mirroring the actual sky above it.

It was taking her breath away.

“Mine too,” said the Shadowsinger, and when she looked at him, he was looking at her with a reverence that she never saw on him before. She realized she had said her mind out loud. She turned her eyes back to the city below them, taking in the beauty of it.

“Thank you,” she told him with a smile, “For showing me this. It’s very beautiful.”

Azriel couldn’t help the smile that made its way to his own face.

“See? There’s no reason to be afraid. It’s actually quite the opposite.”

“Only because I’m with you,” she replied matter of factly before turning her eyes to the pool of starlight under them. “Promise me you’ll fly with me again when we get home.”

And who was he to deny her?

“I promise.”

***

[Author’s Note: A very long chapter as my apology for the slow update. And boy this chapter was a dream ❤️ So fluffy. So cuteeee 😍 Let me know your thoughts in the comments below and give ⭐or ❤️ if you enjoyed the chapter. See you at the next chapter!]