Remember this, the shadows used to hum as Azriel held the entire world in his hand. 

Not that he needed their heeding. After all, how could he forget how impeccably both Llyr's and little Catrin's heads fit wholly cupped in the heart of his palm? 

A heartwarming, idyllic match. So miraculously perfect. 

Almost as if the Mother herself had measured his hand's span. Both of the two wriggling babes a wonderfully complicated compliment into his life—just like their mother. 

He'd never forget his first time like this. Seeing them nestled in his hold, was against a background of fuzzy snow-white whirls. The backdrop of a blanket between them.

For a while, he had been nervous to hold them like that soft to marred skin. Worried how the roughness of him would feel against such tender flesh and featherlight wisps of hair. So when he'd often hold them at night when they were newborns, he would with a blanket between them.

And it wasn't until Gwyn had caught him one night, finally realizing what he was doing, that she calmly, gently told him, Remove the barrier, my love. 

Barrier. The word tolled through him like a clear bell of challenge. 

Barrier. It had been years since he'd allowed any between himself and his beloved mate, his friends—or around his hands. He loved the feeling of Gwyn's palm and fingers, now strong and roughened from years of training, against his own. He found comfort and clarity in her touch. Renewed vitality and strength.

And wouldn't his children gain the same?

Fear, uncertainty, were the ultimate hurdle. But eventually, with deep breaths and the shadows and Gwyn's loving support and gentle coaxing, he had held them. One at a time, their tiny, precious heads in his palm, the weight of them in his arms a joy he still couldn't comprehend.

Gods, they had been soft. They'd been so wondrously soft. Like his shadows whispering over him. Like fate and love and magic given form.

Perfect. 

The sweet image of their small heads nestled in the center of his palm as he cradled them was imprinted on his soul, imparted with a promise. 

A promise he thought about every time he glanced at his hand. 

While Gwyn fretted and assessed the twins' lives in reaching milestones, Azriel measured the passing of time by his hand.

The once perfect fit was long gone, Llyr and Catrin not even needing the extra support of it anymore, each of them able to hold themselves, sit on their own. Their inquisitive son was even starting to pull himself up on furniture. 

Catrin was getting there, but she seemed content to allow her brother and others to bring things to her. Which still worried Gwyn, though their family did their best to allay her ruminating.

Don't worry, Berdara. My father often said how late I was at walking—until I saw something I wanted. Catrin is just willfully stubborn, just like her mother. Gwyn had stuck her tongue out at Nesta for that. But, her Valkyrie-sister continued, when she finally sees something she really wants, that little Valkyrie is going to run, not walk. And then you will beg the Mother for her to sit still again. 

And Azriel had little doubt about Nesta's claim. 

Even now in sleep, her ever-growing wings splayed beneath her, spread out as wide as her arms, her forehead was puckered as if she was scheming. Her small rosebud lips with the perfect bow were parted on soft puffed breaths, little snores that reminded him so much of watching Gwyn sleep. Though with her onyx hair, he could only imagine she was the spitting image of her namesake. Apart from her wings and the wavy ringlets in her hair, the little girl was most definitely a Berdara. 

He peered over at the other crib. His son, even with his porcelain skin and copper coloring, was Azriel through and through. A quiet boy, always content to assess a situation before trying. And Azriel swore Llyr was paying close attention to the shadows more now than ever, enough to make the Shadowsinger wonder.

Catrin's pitiful whimper called his attention.

It was a nightly ritual now whenever he was home—when nightmares dragged him from the little sleep his body called for—to check on his family as they slept. 

Safe, Singer. 

Safe. All of them were safe. No demons from his past or enemies of his present were here.

And that had been that promise the first time he'd held them with no barrier between them.

His children would never know the true reality of cold. Never know the bite of shackles on their wrists or ankles. They'd never long for comfort. 

They'd never question if they were loved.

Their safety would always be assured.

Safe to sleep. Safe to dream. Safe to love.

They'd have everything he didn't have. And he'd make sure of it with his last breath.

That was his promise.

And yet…

His knuckle gently smoothed over Catrin's forehead, over her chubby cheek. 

Every day, he compared their heads to his hand. Every day it sunk in that they were bigger, no longer fitting to the dimension. They were growing up. Every day was another day closer to—

Arms circled him from behind, and he stretched his wings aside as a pointy chin rested on his bare left shoulder. He sighed into her, loving to be surrounded by her softness and her scent.

"You all right?" Gwyn asked.

"Yes." He swallowed thickly. "Couldn't sleep. And you?"

"Nightmare," she sighed. His arm encircled her as he kissed her temple. Her soft chuckle caught him off guard. "Just look at them. They're getting so big." 

His throat bobbed, his fingertips and shadows grazing over the peach fuzz of the babe's cheek again. "They are. It seems they are doing new things each day. It's truly remarkable."

"It is. And yet…it worries me."

"Gwyneth Berdara, worried? No. I can't believe such a thing," he teased, earning a little playful nip to his shoulder.

"The more they move, the farther they go, the more dangers await. Cauldron, the House of Wind is built on top of a godsdamn mountain. It suddenly feels like a death trap. I shouldn't even dare blink when they're awake."

"The House won't let anything happen to them, love. Neither will we."

"Still, I'd feel better if we need to take precautions. Be proactive. Cover corners, secure doors and knobs. Gates around the stairs and fencing off the training ring." She eyed him. "How would you feel about covering the tips of your wings?"

Azriel snorted. "Gwyn, I love you and your creative mind, but there's no way in hell. Illyrians have had babies forever and I haven't read one single instance of eyes getting poked out by wing tips."

"If you insist." She exhaled, her eyes taking in the dozing girl in the crib. The shadowsinger tightened his hold on his mate. "Does it…does it make you a little sad, too?"

His lips twitched. His clever copper-headed wife always saw straight through to the heart of the matter. "It does."

"I don't know what I'm going to do when they leave to be on their own one day," she confided, her mouth trembling slightly against his collar. "Though I guess it's silly to think about right now, one day they'll be starting their own lives. It'll be up to them. They won't need us."

He kissed her again, tugging her ever closer to him, glancing between their sleeping children. "We'll always be there for them. And it's not silly in the slightest. I am, too. I think perhaps it's the nature of parenthood. The blessing of children comes with the curse of constant worry about what they will face, what the future holds. The perils. The heartache. I just…I don't want them to feel a moment of pain."

And he wouldn't be able to bear it. Because that was the risk of letting down barriers of the heart and soul—it left one vulnerable to the worst heartbreak, the greatest pain imaginable. 

The tactile fear of losing it all after he'd finally allowed himself to feel, to accept.

A panic he used to solely place on Gwyn and now…

"I wish I could relieve your fears and mine, Shadowsinger. But…it's not practical." He peered down at his lovely beauty, falling immediately into the teal orbs staring up through heavy lashes. "Some pain is simply a part of life. The elation and happiness of first loves, families and friendships can't be had without risk. Without having faith. Because you go in knowing that things could end with heartache and loss. I don't imagine the fear will ever abate. But it's worth it to experience love, is it not?"

He didn't take his eyes off of Gwyn, remembering all the times he almost lost her, had seen and felt her pain and dread. How he'd witnessed her drift away from him after the birth of their children. Hell, forget about battle; he'd been more terrified of losing her on the birthing bed—and their twins. 

Yet she was here. Now. They all were.

And he would relive his haunted past over again if it meant he'd end up right here.

Arm still wound around Gwyn, his fingertips left his daughter's brow to tip up his mate's freckled face. He'd memorized it long ago, each freckle as familiar as his own scars. And as he stared down, felt the touch of her skin against his own, without linen or fear between them, he dipped his face down and pressed a tender kiss to her lips.

Every kiss was a blessing. 

Every touch was a miracle. 

Every fear was worth living. 

“The two of you just need to find a different time of day to spend together,” I say, “maybe in the afternoons or early in the mornings. He’s already starting to wake up early as if he needs to train too.”

Your mate smiles at that, loving the idea of training his son. Cassian even paid a seamstress to make tiny baby illyrian leathers for him. They won’t fit him for at least another year, though.

“I suppose. I could get him ready in the mornings and feed him breakfast before training.”

“Mhmm.”

Az smiles wider, already adjusting to this new plan. “Alright, it’s settled then. But if he wakes up at night, I’ve got dibs.”

You laugh, loving to see your husband like this, and loving even more the bonding happening between father and son. 

When your son was first born, Azriel was terrified of holding him. He was afraid he’d hurt the baby or that the faeling would be afraid of his scars. Oh, how wrong he was. Az is always perfectly careful with his son and the baby has come to love Azriel’s hands more than anyone else's. He finds a sort of comfort in the scars that identify his dad, always wanting to hold one of Azriel’s fingers.

His first word was even Papa, to no one’s surprise. So now, when he wakes up in the early hours of the morning, he calls out “Papa,” until Azriel, already half dressed, comes into his room and pulls him from the crib. 

They develop an easy routine in the mornings that you only know about from Azriel telling you later. Azriel starts getting ready before your son wakes up, but once he does, he drops everything and goes to get Y/S/N. They play quietly for a little while: with Azriel’s shadows, reading books, or just by themselves. 

Then Azriel changes his diaper and wiggle the baby into new clothes before feeding them both breakfast. Then, as quietly as a baby can manage, Y/S/N sits on your bed and babbles to your mate while he finishes getting ready. Once he learned how to crawl, though, he didn’t stay on the bed, preferring to follow Az around the room and act just like him.

When he learned to walk, it only got worse. He tried wearing his Illyrian leathers almost every day, even going as far as to paint a few rocks blue and glue them to the outfit. His mornings no longer end when Az goes to train because, with only one pouty face, he convinced your husband to take him with.

Now your son sits to the side while Azriel and his brothers train. It didn’t take long for them to give him training daggers or to try and teach him defensive moves. Azriel has never smiled as wide as he does when his son is having a good time.

So it’s no surprise to you that when you tell him you're pregnant again, he’s overjoyed to have another little one running around. You are a little surprised, though, that his joy doesn’t falter even a little bit when the baby is born a girl.

“Why wouldn’t I be happy to have a daughter?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Az. I just thought you wanted another son.”

He shrugs. “We already have Y/S/N; I want at least one of each.”

Your daughter becomes Azriel’s new nighttime occupation, but he still manages to get up extra early in the mornings with Y/S/N. Your son becomes super protective of the baby too, never wanting to leave her side. He holds her whenever someone’s around to supervise him and plays with her constantly.

When she’s old enough to move around, your son becomes her role model. The three of them look like a train. Az in front while Y/S/N marches behind, following his lead, and Y/D/N brings up the rear, usually with her blanky in hand.

Kai never seemed to want him at all so Az held his distance. And you didn’t fail to notice how Az always seemed to be working when Kai needed to be picked up from school or when he got hungry for a snack. 

On the weekends, the three of you would do things together, but the way Kai chose to sit in your lap during picnics and only wanted to be held by you cemented the idea that Kai just didn’t seem to want him around, so Az pulled away more and more, unsure what else to do. 

One afternoon, when you were picking up Kai from school, he hesitated to leave. You followed his gaze to another family: a male and female and their two kids. Your first thought was that Kai wanted a sibling, but then he looked at you and asked, “why don’t you do that?”

You’re confused by his question, trying to decipher his meaning by looking back at the female and what she’s doing until he elaborates. “Why don’t you bring, Papa?”

When you look at him again, he seems sad. He bites his lip, trying to stop it from quivering as tears well up in his eyes. “Papa’s just working, but maybe he’ll be able to come with me to pick you up tomorrow.”

“Papa’s always working,” he whispers as you take his hand and start down the sidewalk.

You don’t say anything back. What are you supposed to say? Az is always working. By the time the two of you get home, you’ve managed to cheer Kai up, but he still seems a little put off. And now that you think about it, he has been a little sad lately, but his teacher said he’s struggling to make friends, so you had assumed that was why. Until now. As you walk with Kai toward the kitchen, he slows down as you pass Az’s office.

“Do you think Papa wants to have a snack with us?” he whispers, stopping completely now. 

“I don’t know, but you can ask if you want.”

Kai turns toward the door, a nervous look on his face as he knocks quietly and opens it a little. “Papa?”

You peer in and see Az look up from some papers. He looks from Kai to you and back to Kai before speaking. “Yes?”

“Do you wanna have a snack with Mama and me?” he’s hopeful but shy.

“Sure, buddy. I’ll be out in a minute.”

“You’re not coming now?” 

“I’ve just got to finish this report for Uncle Rhys, then I’ll meet you in the kitchen. One minute, I promise.”

Kai nods solemnly and closes the door before marching into the kitchen. “What snacks does Papa like to eat?” he asks you, throwing the fridge door open.

“He loves apples, just like you.”

“Perfect!” Kai pulls the bag of apples from the fridge, leaving them for you to cut while he goes to find the best things to enjoy them with. 

He comes back with Nutella and peanut butter and sits them on the table while you finish cutting the apples. A few more minutes go by, and you sit with Kai at the table. He refuses to eat until Az arrives. Another couple of minutes and you have to scream at your mate through the bond, but then he’s walking into the kitchen.

He’s rubbing his temples as though he has a headache, but he’s finally shown up. Kai perks up immediately. “Mama said you like apples! Do you like Nutella or peanut butter?”

Azriel scrunches his nose, “ugh, neither,” he grumbles and walks to the fridge, returning a second later with caramel sauce. “Caramel is much better.”

“Caramel?” Kai is confused and intrigued at the same time. He shoves the peanut butter and Nutella aside, already willing to try something new, so unlike his father. 

Az sits down beside Kai, a small smile on his face as he opens the caramel and dips an apple slice in. Kai follows right after, and the look on his face makes you burst out in laughter.

“This is wonderful!”

Az laughs at your son's enthusiasm and grabs another apple slice. The three of you enjoy the rest of the snack together, and Azriel even joins Kai as he plays around the yard, giving you time to catch up on some of the work you’ve been behind in doing.

When the evening comes to a close, though, and the boys come inside, Az seems to pull back. Kai takes a bath after ending the day covered in dirt and grass, and Azriel stays with him the whole time as he chats about all his bath toys, but as soon as he’s in pajamas and ready for bed, your mate quiets down and starts drifting into the shadows.

“Are you going to join us for story time?” you try.

“No, that’s alright. I have to go check on something for Rhys,” he says before winnowing away, not that you see it directly, you’re too focused on the disappointed look on your son's face. 

“Maybe he’ll join us for bedtime tomorrow,” you tell him, tucking him into bed. 

“He doesn’t have to read if he doesn’t wanna. I don’t like reading out loud in front of people either,” Kai confides, bringing a smile to your face. “He could just sit and tuck me in if he wanted. And give me a goodnight squeeze.”

“I’ll relay your message, Kai.”

“Good! Then maybe he’ll tuck me in tomorrow.” You nod in agreement, kissing Kai on the head before slipping out the door to find your mate. 

*

“You’re going to pick Kai up from school tomorrow,” you tell Azriel, arms crossed over your chest. Az looks up, confused, so you elaborate. “Today, when I picked him up, he was looking at another family, and he asked why I don’t bring you to get him too. You haven’t been around much, Az. He barely knows you, and I didn’t realize until today, but now that I have, I won’t let you do this anymore.”

“Y/N-”

“No, don’t. You’re coming with me to get him from school tomorrow, and you’re going to put him to bed too.”

“I can’t-” he starts.

“And why the hell not, Az?”

“He doesn’t want me there.”

“Azriel.” He refuses to meet your eyes, and suddenly you feel blind looking at your mate. First, you missed all of the signs in your son about his feelings toward Azriel, and now you're just now noticing how Azriel feels out of place in your family.

Tears well up behind your eyes, but you shove them down and move toward your mate. “Look at me Azriel,” you plead, grabbing his chin and forcing his gaze up as you lean against the desk in front of him. “Kai loves you. He wants to spend time with you. Even if that’s just you sitting by his side as I read his bedtime story or just giving him a hug and a kiss on the head.”

Tears slip from Azriel's eyes, and you gently wipe them away before placing a kiss on his forehead and leaning yours to his. “The two of you are terrible at sharing your thoughts and feelings with one another, and I don’t know where it started because he’s only five.” Azriel smiles softly, pulling you into his lap. “You can’t expect me to be the middle man forever.”

“I don’t,” he promises, kissing you softly and nuzzling your neck.

“Good.”

“I’ll make things right. I promise.”

*

The next day, Azriel goes with you to get Kai from school, and as your son notices you after exiting the building, he beams, beyond happy to see his father. He skips toward the pair and you and throws himself into Az’s arms.

“Carry me, Papa!” he shouts, throwing his arms around Azriel's neck, clinging on as tightly as he can. “Time to go home,” Kai declares, “We have to work on building a battleship.”

“Well, we’re not going home just yet,” Az tells him, confusing you.

“I was thinking we could go get ice cream.” Az looks to you for confirmation, trying to make sure you’re okay with this change in plans.

You nod, of course, happy he’s taking the initiative to do something with Kai. The three of you walk further into Velaris toward your favorite ice cream shop and spend the afternoon enjoying sugary deliciousness. Kai can’t stop smiling all afternoon and stays close to Az, pressing into his side while they sit side by side on a park bench and eat their ice cream. 

You can’t help but watch them and memorize the scene. And a moment later, call out to Feyre with your mind and beg her to paint the memory for you. She obliges, always happy to paint the people she loves. You and your boys begin the walk back to your house, happier than any of you have been in a while. 

Later in the evening, as you help Kai finish getting ready for bed, you ensure Az is around and shove him into the plush chair beside your son’s bed. As Kai skips from the bathroom to his bed, before Azriel has the chance to say anything, you sigh dramatically.

“Uncle Rhys just called and said he needs me for something important. Is it okay if Papa puts you to bed tonight?” you ask your son. He nods before running into your arms to hug you tightly.

“Night, night!” he says, jumping into his bed and wiggling under the blankets.

Az gives you a slightly panicked look, but you just run to the door and gently shut it behind you as Kai tries to convince his father to read him 5 books instead of just 2 that you usually allow.

Azriel's heart softens in his chest as his son looks at him from beneath a cocoon of blankets. “One more, Papa, pleeaasse,” he begs.

“I already read you six books.” Kai pouts, tempting Az, but the spymaster holds his ground and stands up, his butt numb.

“Ugh, fine!” the boy relents, holding out his arms for his father to hug. Azriel squeezes him tightly and places a kiss on his head as he tucks the blankets into his sides. “Can you just stay until I fall asleep, Papa?” Kai pleads, pulling out his pouty face again.