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Thirty seconds. That was all he got before the crying started again. Azriel let out a heavy sigh and ran a tired hand over his face. Next to him, his mate stirred, also getting ready to leave the warmth of their bed. He reached over and gave her hips a gentle squeeze.
”Stay,” he mumbled and urged her back into a lying position. ”I’ve got her.” Gwyn grumbled something about it being her turn, her speech nothing more than a tired slur, but didn’t fight him further as she buried her face into one of the pillows. Azriel chuckled lightly and gave her hip another affectionate squeeze.
She would deny it, but he saw the dark circles beneath her eyes. He saw her slumped shoulders and the silver lining her eyes when the crying just wouldn’t stop. The fact that she did not try to fight him further, that she had fallen back asleep so quickly, was proof enough that his mate was truly exhausted.
Azriel had only been away for three nights, but it was enough, especially with a teething baby. He had been home for less than a day, and he already felt completely drained. But he could not, and would not, complain. Azriel had missed the worst of it, so if he had to stay up all night— he would.
For her. For his mate. His Gwyn.
He didn’t need sleep.
His shadows were already circling the small bassinet as he crossed the room, brushing against his daughter’s feverish skin in a cool and soothing rhythm. It had been seven months since his world had been turned upside down, reshaped entirely by a single cry and a pair of teal eyes. She had entered the world at dusk, just as the moon’s first shadows stretched over Velaris. From the moment she took her first breath she’d had everyone in their court wrapped around her chubby fingers. Especially Azriel. His shadows included.
As soon as his daughter had looked up at him, with the same big teal eyes as her mother, every doubt and fear from his body had disappeared. He’d known instantly. That he would do absolutely everything it took to keep her safe. To make sure she knew how loved she was from that very first moment. He couldn’t care less about how much blood he had on his hands, not as long as it kept his little girl safe.
He would burn the world down for her.
For his little light. His baby girl. His Catrin.
Rhys had asked him to go to the continent to gather some information. Rumours about unease in the human lands had started to spread and had to be looked into. In the end, it wasn’t anything serious, but it had still required Azriel to leave his family for a couple of days.
Gwyn had reassured him over and over again that they would be fine, but then Catrin had started teething while he was gone.
Their usual happy girl had been fussy the entire time, crying almost non-stop, needing to be held at all times. Their little social butterfly, who loved to be passed around amongst her aunts and uncles, had refused to be held by anyone other than her mother. It broke his heart to arrive back home and see his girl in such discomfort. To know he hadn’t been there to soothe her through the worst of it.
“Shh, my light,” Azriel murmured as he bent down to pick her up. Her small body was warm, her feverish skin a little clammy. She immediately clung to him, burying her snotty face in the crook of his neck, as she continued to cry. “I’ve got you. It’s okay, shhh.”
He pressed a lingering kiss to the top of her head, her thick dark curls tickling his nose, whilst stroking her back lovingly. Catrin had been born without wings. Gwyn had shed an endless amount of tears the day they found out, afraid that he’d be disappointed and upset at her for not giving him a child with wings. Azriel had been stunned by her confession. The idea that he’d be upset at her was so absurd he couldn’t find the words to speak.
Then he had spent the last three months of the pregnancy making sure his mate knew just how utterly breathtaking he found her. How incredibly thankful he was that The Mother had gifted him her as a mate. How thankful he was that she loved him back and would be the one carrying his child. As long as their child was healthy, Azriel was happy.
And Catrin came to them as the most perfect little girl he had ever seen. But with Gwyn as her mother; Azriel always knew she would be. Just hours after her birth, he’d traced his fingers over Catrin’s delicate shoulders as she slept on his chest, completely amazed by her existence. Wings or not, she had stolen his heart.
“Oh, I know your teeth hurt, sweets,” Azriel pressed another kiss to his daughter’s head, bouncing her in his arms gently as he quietly made his way out of the bedroom. Catrin’s loud cries turned into small whimpers as she continued to cling to her father. More at ease now in his arms, but still not content enough to be fully settled. “It’ll get better soon, I promise.”
The shadows swirled around them as he entered the sitting room, continuing to brush against her soft skin with cool touches to help against the fever. Another shadow presented him with a bottle of the teeth gel Madja had given to them, along with a cold washcloth.
Azriel adjusted Catrin in his arm, cradling her close to his chest, to accept the items. She let out an angry cry from being moved away from the comfort of his neck. ”I know, I know,” he cooed again, working as quickly as possible to open the bottle, but using only one hand was more of a struggle than he liked to admit. ”I’m sorry.” He leaned down to kiss away her tears as the shadows stepped in to open the bottle for him.
He managed to get a few drops on his finger and moved to her mouth to massage her sore gums. Catrin let out what seemed like a breath of relief and grasped his hand with her much smaller ones, to keep him there, as if to make sure he wouldn’t stop doing what he was doing.
She looked up at him with big teary eyes, so much like her mother’s, and Az could feel her gnawing at his finger with her still toothless gums — chasing the temporary relief he could give her. He would let her gnaw it down to the bone if it helped her.
He continued to massage her gums a little while longer, bouncing her gently in his arms as he paced around the room. His heart felt a little lighter as her heartbreaking cries eased, her heavy eyelids fell and her breathing evened out.
But as he removed his finger, her eyes shot right back up as she looked up at him with narrowed brows, lips falling into a pout. Even if it was Gwyn's eyes staring up at him, her small scowl was all him, a tiny mirror of his own face. Azriel sighed, swallowing down the slight simmer of frustration. He should’ve known better than to think she was asleep.
”You need to sleep, my light,” he hummed and reached for the cool washcloth his shadows had brought earlier. ”It’ll help you feel better.”
Catrin immediately grabbed onto the washcloth as he held it out for her, shoving it into her mouth to gnaw on instead of his finger. Azriel couldn’t help but smile down at her, his clever and strong-willed daughter, who once again relaxed on his arms as the washcloth cooled her aching gums.
He moved over to sit down in the armchair placed by the big window, looking out over the city. Catrin was comfortably resting in his arms, drool dripping down her chin as she chewed happily on the cloth. ”There we go. That’s better isn’t it? I’ve got you. I promise.”
His shadows gathered over his wings, vigilant and tender as they hovered around Catrin, monitoring her every breath. The dark tendrils of smoke, fearsome to most, softened into playful shapes – a shadowy butterfly landing on her small nose. A giggle broke through the haze of her discomfort, bright and infectious, as Catrin reached for the tiny creature.
Azriel chuckled lightly, his chest warming at the familiar sound. He could spend an eternity just watching her, savoring her small giggles and the brightness she brought into his world.
But it was late, and she needed to sleep.
Cradling her closer to his chest, Azriel brushed a thumb over her small brow in slow, soothing strokes. The same thing his mother used to do for him when he was young. It had been a rare moment of comfort in a childhood that was otherwise filled with pain and darkness. Those fleeting moments of safety in her arms was the only time and place he’d felt safe enough to rest. His mother had known it too, sacrificing their precious time together just so he could find some peace. Happy to just hold her little boy and watch him sleep.
As Catrin nuzzled into the palm of his hand with a happy coo, a swell of understanding flowed through him. An understanding of the depth of his mother’s love and her quiet strength.
Then the same lullaby she had always sung to him slipped from his lips. An old illyrian folk song about the moon’s quiet embrace and the promise of new beginnings. The soft melody carried bittersweet memories with it – of clinging to his mother, desperate for her love and her warmth. Only to be ripped away by cruelty and darkness. Alone with no one to kiss away his tears.
Azriel’s voice faltered for a heartbeat, the weight of old wounds pressing on his chest, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he held his daughter a little tighter and let the words flow from his lips even softer than before. Letting the melody become a bridge between his past and the present. Despite the painful memories, it had once been his beacon of hope. His mother’s voice had followed him into that dark dungeon, promising and pulling him toward a better tomorrow.
Now, he sang it to his own child, every note a promise that she would never endure the same loneliness and heartache. His gift to her. Catrin would never know the cold despair he had felt. In his arms, she would always be warm, safe and loved. So loved.
It didn’t take long before Catrin was fighting to keep her eyes open. His stubborn little girl blinking furiously in an attempt to stay awake and watch his shadows. The butterflies had turned into a small pegasus and other various animals, floating and jumping around playfully above her head.
Azriel gave them a small tug, silently ordering them to stop entertaining her. The shadows quickly fell over her in a thick blanket instead, pulsing around her soothingly along with the familiar hum of her father’s singing.
She was asleep in a matter of seconds.
But even as sleep embraced her, Azriel continued to quietly sing to his daughter and stroking her brow.
It had been seven months since she entered this world.
There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
Nothing he wouldn’t do for his brave and beautiful mate sleeping in the room next to them.
If he had to sit in this chair all night, stay awake all night, so that both of them finally got some rest— he would.
For them.
His little light. His mate. His entire world.
He would.
Always.