Cassian had known Azriel long enough to understand that silence was never just silence with him. Most people saw the Shadowsinger and thought of him being cold, unreadable and detached from the world around him. They mistook restraint for indifference and quietness for peace. But Cassian had stood beside Azriel for five centuries and he had learnt every shade of his brother’s silence as intimately as he knew the sound of his own heartbeat.
There was the brittle silence Azriel carried after interrogations, when his shadows clung too tightly to his shoulders and his siphons seemed dimmer somehow. The exhausted silence after weeks spent gathering intelligence in enemy courts, where he would return to Velaris looking carved out and hollow from the inside out. Finally, there was the dangerous silence, when his face went still and emotionless in a way that always made Cassian uneasy.
Those were the nights Azriel disappeared into the training ring until dawn, beating himself bloody against practice dummies as though violence might purge whatever horrors he carried home with him. Cassian had witnessed enough over the centuries to piece together fragments of what Azriel endured during those missions. The things he saw, the things he was forced to do and the cruelty he willingly walked into so others would never have to. Azriel, however, never really spoke of any of it.
He would come back to the House of Wind long after midnight with shadows wrapped around him like living armor, his shoulders tense beneath dark leathers. He’d pause at the doorway like he wasn’t entirely certain he belonged there anymore before quietly slipping inside and finally retreat. Either to the training rink, into his room or into the darkness.
Cassian remembered countless nights waking to the sound of boots pacing overhead because Azriel couldn’t sleep. A restlessness clung to him as permanently as his shadows did, even though he was exhausted beyond imagination.
The worst part, the part that haunted Cassian most, was how normal it had all become. Everyone, including himself, had accepted it. Accepted that Azriel carried pain like a second skin and that parts of him would always remain locked away in places none of them could reach.
Cassian still couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the change had begun but Elain had slipped through Azriel’s barriers with little to no resistance. It had happened gradually, in ways so small at first that they were almost impossible to notice.
When Elain was present, Azriel lingered longer after dinner instead of vanishing immediately. His shadows drifted lazily through rooms rather than curling tightly around him in warning. The occasional soft expression crossing his face when Elain spoke, so fleeting Cassian initially thought he imagined it.
The smiling was a fun and new discovery. Not the small polite smirk Azriel occasionally offered during Inner Circle meetings, nor the dry amusement he reserved for Cassian and Rhys. No, this was something entirely different. It was softer, warmer and genuine which transformed his entire face when he did it. For some apparent reason, it only happened when a certain middle Archeron sister was nearby.
The two of them had become almost impossible to separate whenever they managed to steal moments alone together. Quiet conversations in hidden corners or shared glances across crowded rooms that spoke more than words ever could. Azriel’s shadows always drifted toward Elain instinctively, weaving through her hair or curling around her wrists with clear affection.
One evening, after dinner Cassian went searching for Azriel with every intention of dragging him into the training ring for a late sparring session. The House of Wind was unusually quiet as he made his way down the corridor. As he approached Azriel’s room, Cassian noticed that the door was slightly ajar. Azriel never left doors open.
Curious, Cassian nudged it open and stopped at the threshold. Warm amber light bathed the room softly, illuminating the large bed tucked beside the windows. Elain lay propped against the headboard, a book resting forgotten in her lap as though she’d stopped reading long ago.
Azriel was curled tightly against her side, half sprawled atop. One arm was wrapped firmly around her waist, holding her close even in sleep, while his face rested against her chest and he looked utterly peaceful. There was no tension which pulled at his features and no strain that lingered around his eyes. Even his shadows drifted through the room in slow, lazy currents rather than sharp restless movements.
Elain glanced up then, sensing him instantly and her expression softened into a smile so full of quiet affection that Cassian’s chest tightened unexpectedly.
Around her fingers, Azriel’s shadows danced playfully. Cassian watched in silence as one curled around her wrist while another slipped through strands of her hair. Elain laughed under her breath and gently tried to catch one between her fingertips, only for it to dart away teasingly before returning again.
“Hey,” Cassian said quietly, unwilling to disturb the fragile peace filling the room.
Elain’s smile widened. “Hello.”
At the sound of his voice, several shadows immediately stilled. Their playful drifting sharpened into alertness, dark wisps coiled protectively closer around the sleeping male in the bed.
Some, however, remained tangled affectionately around Elain’s hands.
Cassian tilted his head toward Azriel, lowering his voice instinctively. “Is he actually asleep?”
Elain lifted one hand from the shadows and slid her fingers gently through Azriel’s dark hair, smoothing it away from his forehead. “Yes,” she whispered softly, “He’s finally resting.”
Cassian nodded slowly, unable to tear his gaze away from his brother’s relaxed face. “He needs it,” he murmured. “More than anyone.”
Elain’s expression turned sad for only a heartbeat, as though she understood far more about Azriel’s burdens than he had ever spoken aloud. When Cassian took a step closer into the room, the shadows reacted instantly.
They lashed outward with sharp hisses, dark tendrils snapping between him and the bed like striking serpents. A wall of shadows rose protectively around Azriel and Elain, warning clear enough that even Cassian barked a startled laugh.
“Alright,” he whispered, raising his hands in surrender. “Message received.”
As though sensing the disturbance even through sleep, Azriel shifted with a faint frown and instinctively tightened his hold around Elain’s waist. He pulled her closer against him and buried his face deeper into the curve of her neck, inhaling her scent and then relaxing again.
Finally, one massive wing unfurled and curved possessively around Elain, shielding her almost entirely beneath dark membrane and shadows until only the sound of her soft laughter escaped from underneath.
Elain peeked out from beneath the wing, her cheeks pink with amusement. “Sorry,” she mouthed silently. Cassian shook his head, warmth blooming through him so fiercely it almost hurt. As though after centuries of loneliness, violence and nightmares, Azriel had finally found somewhere safe and trusting to rest.
Cassian backed quietly toward the door, unwilling to disturb them another second. “Goodnight,” he said gently. Elain smiled at him from beneath the shelter of Azriel’s wing. “Goodnight, Cassian.”
He closed the door softly behind him and stood there for a long moment in the quiet hallway. Then Cassian smiled to himself and continued down the corridor with something warm and steady settling deep in his chest at seeing his brother at peace.
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