#somh

Gwyn instantly awoke to the dim light of the ever-burning candles in the kitchens of the Sangravah temple. The din hit her immediately afterwards. She could hear the screams of her priestess friends, felt the sharp metal of her enemies cutting through flesh and blocking out those heartbreaking cries. She could distinguish the voices of the people who had lived with her all her life. She knew what was happening. She had been in that place before, that same night, so few years before. They were coming.

She looked down, fixing her eyes on the bright, wide-open eyes of the little girl whose hand she was clutching. Her heart clenched even tighter in her chest and she tried to clear her thoughts before Hybern's soldiers reached them. If she hurried, maybe this time she would be able to get in with them. Maybe she could get to safety, escape the carnage.

She looked at the passage in the wall, where the last of the children had now entered, and let go of little Sankora's hand. The child wailed, shaking her head, but Gwyn had no time for such things, she had to make sure she was safe. They were coming, they were coming.

The footsteps and screams were getting closer by the second, louder and louder behind the large wooden door that separated them from what she knew was certain death. She pushed the little one through the trap door, ordering one of the older children to run as fast as they could down into the catacombs, hiding as best they knew until someone came for them.

Sankora had just disappeared behind the wall when Gwyn heard Hybern running towards her. They were coming.

Knowing what was about to happen, she let go of a throaty noise. She wanted to escape with the children, she knew she could, but her body didn't move until it was too late and she had only time to throw a rug over the trap door and place the table right in front of it so it was no longer visible.

She had just turned to face the opening when the door swung open, slamming into the wall with such force that the pots and pans hanging from the nails shook. Gwyn held her breath, her legs ready to finally run, following what her brain was begging her to do, but the commander saw her and his nostrils flared as he caught her scent.

A creepy smile appeared on the man's face and Gwyn felt the hairs on her arms rise.

She knew what was coming.

And from the looks the guards were giving her, it was as if they, too, had been there before. It was as if they were all actors, doomed to relive that night every time she closed her eyes.

Gwyn shifted her gaze to her sister, to the other priestesses, to return her eyes to the commander. She tried to stand straighter, not to let on.

When the man spoke, she felt her stomach churn so hard she was afraid she would vomit.

"Where are the little girls?" he asked, taking a step towards her. Gwyn took one back, her breath caught in her throat still. "Where are the girls?" he repeated, reaching a hand up to her face, smiling as he took a strand of her hair and curled it around one finger.

When rough fingertips brushed the skin of her cheek, Gwyn closed her eyes.

"They took the mountain road to go get help," she murmured, trying to sound more confident than she actually was.

The guards laughed behind the commander. He grinned, leaning towards her so far that she could smell his breath, felt the air penetrate her soul. She would never forget the alcohol-heavy scent of that beast. "You're lying." he whispered, cupping her face completely and tightening his grip on her head, crushing her ear. Gwyn whimpered, a sound between a sob and a cry of pain, and he laughed. "I can feel your fear," he continued in a louder voice, "you're lying and if you don't tell me the truth soon-" he clicked his tongue, violently pulling his hand away from her delicate face and jerking her forward as her hair got caught in his armour. Gwyn let out a scream of pain, but the sound was choked off when she heard someone else wailing. Catrin looked into her eyes, only pure anger and determination on her face.

Gwyn felt the wave of shock hit her in one breath and felt her knees giving way beneath her.

She knew what was coming.

She knew, as did her body.

She felt the commander ordering her to tell him the truth again. Threaten her. She heard him promise he would kill her sister if she did not speak. She heard the sound of the sword being drawn from its sheath. She heard the final warning and heard the screams as her sister's head rolled before her eyes.

But she did nothing.

It was useless.

She had tried so many times to change the outcome. She had tried so hard to save everyone.

She didn't move from her spot on the floor, her face wet with silent tears, when the commander moved Catrin's decapitated corpse with one foot and bent down to her level and without taking his stare from hers, said to his guards, "Go to work on them."

She heard the cries of her companions, but did not react. It was meaningless.

The smile the commander gave her made her brain scream to run, but it made no sense.

"That one is mine," he spat.

She felt something caress her neck, call her name. She turned her head slowly as the commander took her by force and two other guards pinned her against the table. She felt the same gentle caress on the exposed skin of her face and then all black as the shadows took over.

***

Gwyn woke up screaming, clawing at her chest so that air could flow directly into her lungs.

The figure of the commander she had come to appreciate and trust was too similar to that of her nightmare. The title both men bore was all too equal for Gwyn to realise that Cassian posed no real threat.

When Nesta tried to approach as well, she only screamed louder and the broken sound that came from her throat made her friends curse.

Gwyn tried to gasp for air, failing miserably between sobs and spasms, and it only got worse when Cassian knelt in front of her on the bed, placing one leg on the mattress and shifting the weight of his body towards her.

His outstretched hands to help her up, to see if she needed him, was just another trap in the eyes of the girl who still believed she was trapped in the nightmare.

Gwyn closed her eyes, clutching the blanket in her hands so tightly that the bones rattled in her fingers.

Get out. Get out. Get out-

And a moment later the mattress shifted beneath her once more and a low growl filled the room.

She let out a sigh of relief, of freedom, as she let herself fall back onto the pillows, opening her eyes now tired of struggling, knowing full well what the sound meant.

The Shadowsinger stood beside her bed breathing heavily as he held a sword and kept his gaze fixed on the pair before him as if he had never seen them before. As if they personified his worst nightmare.

Cassian remained lying on his back on the floor as he looked at his brother with wide, confused eyes. Nesta, crouched beside her mate, was shouting at Azriel.

What, Gwyn could not have known, for to her ears all sounds came muffled.

The only voice she heard clearly was that of the dark shadows dancing around her, asking her what had happened, if she was hurt.

Gwyn found the strength to turn her body towards the other wall, whimpering softly as the cold of the room hit her bare back. At that faint cry, another menacing growl made its way into the room, threatening anyone who would even touch Gwyn again that things would not end well for them.

She heard Nesta retort that if she heard her scream again, she would bring Ataraxia too and that he needed to calm the fuck down and stop growling at them.

And Gwyn wanted to tell them to stop. She wanted to shout at them that it wasn't necessary, that they were only scaring her more, that they should leave her alone.

Azriel's shadows danced around her and then shifted, and Gwyn only then realised how clear and sharp they were to her. She reached out a hand towards one of them and-

"Go away," said the Shadowsinger, "If she needs one of you, I will come for you. But now you must go."

It was Cassian who replied, "Az-"

"Please."

Gwyn hadn't even realized she'd spoken, but Nesta's gasp made her realize it.

"I'm fine. Go." she continued in a weak, husky voice.

No one said anything more, and the sound of the door closing behind her friends was the only sign that they had actually left.

But Gwyn knew he remained there.

She could hear his panting breath, could sense his uneasiness. She could feel his heartbeat through the shadow twirling around her fingers. As if they were trying to steady her with that continuos drumming.

Do you want him to leave too?

She held her breath for a second, before realising that the shadows had spoken to her.

"No." she whispered back, not knowing if they would hear her if she just thought the word.

Azriel turned to her, and Gwyn knew that he was just waiting for her to command him, that whatever she would order him to do, he would do.

"Azriel..." she didn't need to say anything else as he shifted and moments later he had crossed the room and was before her, crouched beside the bed with pleading eyes. Gwyn looked up at him and it was like the first time, when he had walked into that kitchen so long ago and saved her.

"I'm sorry," he said suddenly.

And the raw emotion, the bitter sorrow that bound each letter made her stomach clench. His eyes had never been so clear and he had certainly never looked at her like that. It was as if he was allowing her to see a small portion of what he actually felt every minute of his eternal days.

Before she could even answer him, he had gotten up and was heading for the door. Only then did she notice that he was wearing only a pair of light black silk trousers.

She spoke before she could repent, "Stay."

Azriel froze in his tracks and the shadows that had so far only looked calm and composed went mad, crawling everywhere on the walls and around his shoulders, over his head. The ones that had remained on her moved with more fierceness and Gwyn felt as if she could touch them, as if they were solid objects around her.

A second later, they were still again, swaying with that deadly calm that belonged only to darkness waiting for something, anything.

He turned slowly towards her, his lips pressed into a thin line, "Why?"

Gwyn blinked, "Stay."

And Az watched her for a few seconds, before placing his sword against the wall and making his way to the bed. He was about to lay down, touch her, but he stopped, holding his breath.

"May I?" he asked in that low tone of his, pointing to the bed.

Gwyn only nodded.

Her room wasn't really meant to house an Illyrian warrior, much less her bed to hold both her and him at the same time, but when Nesta had offered her a room in the House of Wind, neither of them had thought Azriel would be entering her private chambers.

Certainly not so soon.

He was looking at her like she was going to break down at any moment, but she'd stopped crying the second he'd appeared and had resumed breathing normally when Cassian and Nesta had finally left. Her heart was still beating wildly, but her brain couldn't tell if it was because of what she'd seen in her sleep or the presence of the male beside her.

She ran her gaze over his chest, over the intricate weave of ink that marked his skin. Nothing she hadn't seen yet during their training sessions, but this was different. She saw him shiver as her eyes traveled further down, over his sculpted abs, and when she saw the hair on his arms stand up, she went back to look at his face.

"Are you cold?" she heard herself ask.

He gave no sign that he had heard her and for a moment Gwyn thought she had only thought it, but then he looked away, sighing and leaning his head against the headboard. "I haven't felt cold in ages now."

She frowned, ready to ask questions, wondering why then his body was covered in what was obviously goosebumps, but he beat her to it.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Gwyn shook her head, turning on her back and looking up at the ceiling.

"Do you need me to do something for you?"

She repeated the gesture and sighed. Even just his presence would be enough for her until dawn came.

He made a nod of assent, crossing his arms over his chest, and she had to force herself not to look at the way she knew his muscles were pulling on his perfect, solid forearms.

She thought she owed him something though, for coming to her rescue again, for staying.

"Thank you."

Azriel was silent again, and Gwyn thought she should teach him how to have a proper conversation one of these days, because she knew he'd respond in a matter of seconds, but those melodramatic pauses he made every time he had to say something gave her far too much time to admire him, distracting her from the topic.

Besides, how much willpower did you need to say a simple you're welcome-

"I felt you," he murmured. Gwyn's head snapped in his direction. He continued to keep his gaze fixed on the wall. He drew in a deep breath that made his chest heave and his arms move, but she didn't have time to admire the sight, too curious to know what he meant by those words. "I felt you, as you slept. The shadows, they..." he swallowed, "they warned me that you were suffering. That you were in pain."

He finally looked at her and Gwyn's breath caught.

"You were in pain."

She curled up on her side, facing him, "I'm sorry." she said, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Azriel shook his head, almost as if to say that she didn't understand, but Gwyn saw the way he gave up even voicing his doubts, and she had absolutely no mental strength to be able to go so far as to ask him what was flashing through his mind.

There was only one thing she could think of.

"Azriel?" she called to him, despite knowing she had his fullest attention, "A few weeks ago, you told me you sing."

He nodded, now even more on alert.

She managed to crack a small, weak smile and the surprise on his face was like lightning striking her in the chest. A second later it had vanished.

"Would you sing for me?"

He watched her a few moments and hope had already planted its seed in her stomach when he said, "I'm not in the right spirit right now, sorry."

Gwyn huffed softly, getting closer, just a few inches. Nothing that could escape the Shadowsinger, of course, but she noted with no small amount of satisfaction that he didn't move or pull away from her.

He might not have felt the cold for the last five hundred years, but Gwyn was freezing now that the adrenaline was completely gone and the blankets were blocked by his mighty legs.

An idea formed in her head.

"You asked if you could do something for me," she reminded him. Azriel seemed ready to retort that he would not sing right then and she raised a hand just enough to keep him silent. "I won't ask you to sing again. Not tonight, but..." she trailed off, eyeing him suspiciously, "could you hold me?"

He opened his eyes wide and Gwyn thought she had never seen so much emotion on the male's face in the span of so few minutes.

He began to shake his head, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please," she begged him, closing her eyes. "Just until I get back to sleep," she lied.

She wasn't going to tell him that she needed to feel his arms around her to know she was safe. To remember the way he'd held her when he'd rescued her that day.

She felt him shift on the mattress, looking for a more convenient position for his wings, and when his hand brushed against her shoulder, he gasped. Gwyn opened her eyes, meeting his, now closer than ever.

His breathing became ragged as he shifted his gaze to his hand and withdrew it.

Gwyn realised she had been wrong to ask him when she recognised the look in his eyes, the pure hatred for those hands she revered and considered her greatest salvation.

She sat up, pulling the sheets from under their legs and, covering herself up to her neck, turned to him, "Is that better? You think you can hold me, if you don't touch me directly?" she asked softly, trying to wipe that look of self-hatred off his face.

Azriel looked at her, blinking once, twice, and then gave a small nod.

She sighed, getting even closer, until one of his arms slipped under her head and she was careful not to touch his hand as the other wrapped around her from behind and pushed her against his chest.

Feeling brave, she put a hand on his pec, resting her head against his chest.

"Are you comfortable?" he asked once they were settled. She merely nodded. "Good."

Minutes passed, hours perhaps, and Azriel didn't move an inch as Gwyn sought sleep more than anything else in the world, mentally exhausted from everything that had happened.

It was only when light began to seep in behind the curtains that the hand over the blanket between them began to trace a path down her back. She smiled in her sleepy state and couldn't hold back her gasp of surprise when he began to hum a tune and it rumbled in his chest.

Gwyn moved her head slightly, pressing her ear against his chest and the arm around her tightened only imperceptibly, but the faint low singing did not stop until she closed her eyes again, finally finding the peace of sleep.

When she awoke hours later, the bed was empty and there was no sign of the male who had kept her company that night.

It wasn't until she pulled herself upright that she saw a shadow hovering in the opposite corner of the room. It seemed to watch her intently for a few seconds and then the uppermost end rolled in on itself, almost as if it were bowing, before sliding under the door and out of her room.

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