Chapter Text
Azriel walked very slowly behind his and Gwyn’s daughter. He was barely taking steps, but Seryn was toddling as fast as her unsteady baby legs would take her. She had her arms outstretched, wings shifting as she balanced, her teal eyes trained on her target. So stubborn. She seemed determined to catch the cat-like creature who kept walking away from her. The spectre, Luna, swished her massive fluffy tail and made sure to stay at least three steps in front of Seryn.
Seryn wandered across the grass after the creature. Azriel’s shadows crept beside her, keeping pace. One curled around her head like a circlet. When she tripped over her own legs and sat, Azriel resisted the urge to sweep her up into his arms. She had to learn to pick herself up.
She peeked over her shoulder at him, tilting her head, expectant. She reached a hand back toward him and smiled. When he didn’t take her hand, her brow furrowed. Confusion started to slip into her gaze, as if she couldn’t quite figure out why he didn’t want to hold her hand.
Picking her up one more time didn’t hurt anything.
Seryn grinned as Azriel swept her into his arms, tossing her once into the air, just a few inches. Unlike Cassian, who liked to launch all the children into the air like it was a competition to see how high he could throw them. He was slightly more careful with Seryn after Azriel had pounced on him after a particularly high throw. Azriel had caught Seryn, handed her to Gwyn, and promptly attacked his brother.
Seryn babbled at him as he held her close and turned back toward his and Gwyn’s cottage. “Your mother is taking an exceptional amount of time getting ready,” he said to Seryn.
Most likely it was because she was as anxious about their plan as he was. Tonight, instead of flying over to the River House for dinner, he was going to winnow them. It was the first time Seryn would ever winnow. Azriel was nervous about her reaction. Nyx had been upset the first time Rhys had winnowed him. He’d cried for a few minutes, clinging to Feyre, unwilling to let anyone else hold him, even Rhys. Azriel remembered the devastated look on his brother’s face all too well. But Nyx had been merely grumpy the next time and then fine after that. Cassian and Nesta’s son Rhodes had been completely unphased the first time Azriel had winnowed with him. He had merely looked up as Azriel with that serious little face like he was mildly unnerved about being in an entirely different location but otherwise fine.
Azriel had no idea how Seryn would react. He had been putting it off for a few months now. At one, she was old enough, but…he was reluctant. He and Gwyn had talked about it on and off. Azriel would have rather waited until she could understand what was happening and Gwyn agreed, but they both knew they couldn’t keep postponing it. With the danger their family sometimes found themselves in for one reason or another, it was best that Seryn got accustomed to winnowing early. They couldn’t put it off forever. They had eventually decided that today would be the day. Everyone else would already be at the River House. The hope was that even if she was upset, their family could act as a sort of happy distraction and make the experience a good one.
“Listen, Ser,” he said, getting her attention. She tilted her head to the side as she looked at him. “I’m going to be right here. I’m holding you the whole time, even if it doesn’t feel like it. I’m always here.”
She snuggled up against his shoulder, her black hair brushing his jaw. He squeezed her tight. Everyone said it would be all right, that even if she was afraid, she would get used to it.
Azriel hated the idea that he would be the cause of something that might frightened her, but he didn’t want anyone else to winnow her the first time. Maybe after that, but not this time.
The cottage door opened. Two more spectres, Fuzz and Eclipse, darted out the door in front of Gwyn. As the two males joined their sister, the three of the spectres faded into nothingness. They would be back eventually; they never stayed away for long.
Gwyn had her hair up in a braid. A shoulder bag bounced against her thigh, heavy with books she was either returning to the River House’s library or exchanging with Rhys. They were always finding new books for their shared research interest about multiple universes and other planets and realms beyond their own. Azriel found it intriguing, but not to the same level as Gwyn and Rhys. Often when they began exchanging theoretical ideas and talking about scholars and scientists from far outside Prythian’s realm, he usually wandered off to a different conversation.
Gwyn smiled, the expression quick and tinged with the same anxiety that was threading around their mating bond. Both of them were nervous about this.
“I want to say that we could just walk or fly,” she said as she made her way to him. “But I won’t.”
“We could, though,” Azriel grumbled.
“We shouldn’t,” Gwyn said. She slipped her arm around her and reached up to tickle Seryn under her chin. Ser giggled a bit but went quiet quickly. “I think she can tell we’re hesitating.”
“She’s perceptive,” Azriel said fondly. He hugged Gwyn to him with his free arm.
Gwyn grinned at their daughter, eyes gleaming with pride. “So clever, very smart.”
Azriel drew his wings in. Copying him, Seryn did the same. He hugged Seryn in one arm and held Gwyn to his side with the other. She bumped her head against his arm, reassuring and warm.
Gwyn took a deep breath. She looked up at Seryn. “You look ready, nightlight.”
Maybe Seryn was, but Azriel wasn’t sure if he would ever be ready for this. He offered Seryn a smile that he knew wouldn’t reflect in his eyes. It would be a very short time in-between. She would barely have time to be startled from one second to the other. “We’ll be right here,” he reminded Seryn.
The shadows rushed around them, engulfing them. They were moving through the darkness, that torrent of shadows that whisked him through the world taking them from the cottage to the River House. When they appeared on the back patio, already lit up and ready for an outdoor dinner, Azriel instantly looked down at Seryn.
Her already large eyes were enormous. She was tense, rigid, her mouth slightly open but she wasn’t making a sound.
The others were talking, he could hear Rhys say something, but Azriel’s attention was fully on his daughter. “Seryn, it’s all right.” He patted her back. His wings flared. Seryn wasn’t breathing. She was alert and awake but she wasn’t breathing, she was holding her breath. His shadows exploded into activity, swirling around them like a cyclone. “Gwyn!”
“What—hey, hey, little girl, no, you’re good, you’re safe.” Gwyn reached for Seryn, taking her into her arms. “You’re fine, breathe, take a breath. Please.” Her voice was calming and soothing, but her fear ran up along their bond and sank its claws into him.
“What happened?” Rhys asked, striding across the lawn toward them with Feyre. He wasn’t the only one headed their way.
“Is she all right?” Nesta asked, Emerie to her side and Cass right behind her.
Gwyn shook her head. “I don’t know—”
Feeling overwhelmed and protective as their family approached, Azriel dropped his wings and shadows down between Gwyn and everyone else, cocooning her and Seryn. He loomed behind her, reaching out to touch their daughter’s cheek. “Why is she doing that?”
“She must have gotten startled,” Gwyn said, turning in his arms, talking faster. “It was cold and completely dark, I don’t think she’s ever been in total darkness, she has those lights, I should have considered—Seryn, you have to breathe.” She put her hand on Seryn’s chest and rubbed gently but insistently. When the baby kept holding her breath, Gwyn’s eyes filled with panic. “Az…”
Azriel’s heart was thundering behind his ribs as he took Seryn from his mate. How did he fix this—this was his fault, he did this—he hurt Seryn, scared her—
“Az, put your wings down,” Cass said. “We can help, brother. Or at least try.”
Azriel, he’s right, Rhys said in his mind, We won’t crowd you, and I swear no one’s going to hurt Seryn. Let us help.
He knew that. It was difficult to get the instinctive part of his brain to accept it, though. But Seryn was starting to become pale, the golden freckles on her skin standing out. She was becoming limp. He jerked his wings back and dispersed the shadows.
“She’s holding her breath,” Gwyn said to Nesta and Emerie as they came closer.
“Nyx used to do that sometimes when he was angry,” Feyre said, hurrying toward them. It sparked a memory in Azriel’s mind; he had seen Nyx do that once. “I can—just hold her.”
Gwyn stepped slightly to the side as Feyre approached, letting her reach Seryn and Azriel. Azriel tensed but Feyre blew a gentle breath across Seryn’s face. After a second breath, Seryn gasped. Azriel breathed with her as her face turned golden-brown again and then rosy as she sucked in a deeper breath before wailing, the sound turning swiftly from a cry to all out scream.
“Someone didn’t enjoy winnowing,” Emerie said, her eyebrows lifting as she walked over. She held out her hands, and Azriel reluctantly allowed her to take Seryn. She drew her back against her shoulder as Gwyn hovered at her side, her hand on Seryn’s back between her wings. Nesta flanked Emerie on the other side.
“Thank you,” Azriel said to Feyre. Seryn’s shrieks were rending his heart, but she was breathing and she hadn’t fully passed out.
Feyre squeezed his arm. “I was terrified too when Nyx did that the first time. Madja told me about that trick, I should’ve told you earlier.”
“You didn’t know,” Azriel said, his eyes trained on Seryn and Gwyn. Emerie was rocking Seryn while Cassian tried to get her to laugh, but she was still sobbing uncontrollably.
Rhys put a hand on his shoulder. “She’ll be all right,” he said. Rhys had to let go quick to catch the little blur of motion that was barreling toward the Valkyries and Cassian. Grabbing Nyx around the waist, Rhys hauled his son up into his arms. “Slow down.”
“Why’s Seryn crying?” Nyx growled, wrestling against Rhys’ grip. “Put me down! What happened? What’s wrong?”
Rhys glanced back toward the dining table. Azriel finally noticed the others who were on the back patio. Mor was holding Rhodes on her hip, but the toddler had his lower lip poking out in a pout as he cried. Usually stoic, Rhodes tended to either get angry or cry in solidarity if Seryn was crying. Varian and Amren were also there, Varian coming a little closer while Amren stayed near Mor. Elain stood by Mor as well; she had her hands clasped to her chest like she wanted to help but also didn’t want to get in the way. The last dinner guest was a harried-looking Lucien. The redhead fireling seemed torn between casting a concerned look at Seryn and frowning at Nyx.
“He bit me,” Lucien said to Rhys. He must have been holding Nyx back since Mor was holding Rhodes. “Actually drew blood, do Illyrians have fangs?”
“Nyx,” Feyre said scoldingly.
“I told him to let go,” Nyx snarled.
Azriel left the High Lord and Lady to deal with Nyx while he focused on his daughter. She kept crying, her hands holding on tight to Emerie’s shirt as Gwyn rubbed circles on her back. Seryn was going to completely wear herself out.
When Gwyn looked at him, there were tears in her own eyes, but she rapidly blinked them away. Azriel brushed his hand against her waist, wishing he hadn’t caused this. He should have let someone whose winnowing ability was normal take her first. Or they should have waited. Something. Anything besides this.
“Here,” Cassian said, reaching for Seryn.
Emerie handed the one-year-old to Cassian, who cuddled her close, wrapping one wing over his shoulder and around her.
“Such an impressive fuss,” Cassian said to Seryn. “Breathe a little more, moonbeam.” Seryn kept crying, her tearstained face pressed into Cass’ shoulder as she clung to him. He offered Azriel an encouraging half-smile. “You should breathe, too, Az.”
Azriel’s jaw tightened. He was. Just not deeply.
Emerie hugged Gwyn as Nesta ran her hand comfortingly along Seryn’s arm and spoke quietly to her.
Nothing seemed to be working. She kept crying as different people took her, each trying something new. Finally, Gwyn took her from Rhys, who had also failed to calm his niece and looked upset about it.
“May I suggest something?”
Azriel turned toward Varian as he approached. He nodded once to show they were open to any ideas that might soothe his daughter. It was getting to the point that he was almost willing to ask Rhys to calm her with his daemati abilities.
“I think the river might help,” Varian said to Gwyn. He didn’t reach for the baby but gestured for Gwyn to take the path that led down to the water. She walked with him, Azriel right behind them.
As they reached the edge of the river, Varian slipped off his sandals and took a couple steps into the water, not bothering to roll his pant legs up. Around him, the current slowed even more.
Gwyn gave Seryn to Azriel so she could take her little shoes off. Ser was still sobbing, softer now that she was tired. When she was barefoot and so was Gwyn, Azriel handed her back to his mate. Gwyn surged into the water and then promptly sat down, getting her outfit soaked. Azriel felt a surge of love for her as she lowered Seryn into her lap, her dress floating in the calm water. Azriel joined them, sitting behind Gwyn.
Instantly, Seryn quieted. It was as effective as Feyre’s soft breath across her face. Her sobs petered out.
She touched the water, her fingers dipping into it. Sniffling, she looked up at Gwyn and then Azriel before putting both hands under the water. After a few moments, tiny speckles of light began to flicker around her. The shadows darted around the light, seeming to play among the sparks of white.
“There,” Varian said, a small smile on his face. “That’s more you, little one.”
“Is it because she’s part nymph?” Gwyn asked, curious as always.
Varian nodded. “The water calls to her. It’s as comforting as flying is to Illyrians.”
"I should have thought of that…Thank you, Varian," Gwyn said.
"Of course," he said. "I couldn't stand to see her like that."
Shadows above made Azriel lift his head. He caught his nephew as Nyx tried to land, nearly falling on Azriel. He twisted around. “Is Seryn better?” he demanded. “Ser!”
“Nyx Archeron,” Rhys’ stern voice rumbled across the yard. “Get back here. Right. Now.”
“Did you bite Rhys?” Gwyn asked.
Nyx growled, his wings rustling. “I wanted to check on Seryn. He said no. So yes.”
Azriel almost laughed. Seryn did. She gave a sleepy little giggle and splashed her hand into the water. She did seem better, but that dread he’d felt at seeing her pale and terrified wasn’t going to leave Azriel any time soon.