Chapter Text
Ajax had always been a quiet child.
From the moment he could walk, shadows followed him as though tethered to his soul. They curled around his small hands when he reached for his toys, they whispered at night when he lay awake, and they danced protectively at his heels when strangers came too close. Gwyn liked to say he had inherited Azriel’s calm strength, while Azriel knew it was something else entirely: the boy had been born with a protective heart.
By the time Ajax was seven, he had already mastered silence. He could sit at the kitchen table for hours, dark eyes observing the world, never interrupting, never fidgeting. And yet, the first time he saw her, he forgot how to breathe.
Caroline.
She arrived in Windhaven with her father, Keegen, one of Azriel’s old spy companions. Keegen was a mountain of an Illyrian, stern with everyone but his daughter. The village whispered about her even before she’d stepped into the training rings. Blonde hair like spun sunlight, tumbling curls down her back, wide brown eyes filled with warmth. No Illyrian girl had ever looked like her before.
Ajax stood with Nyx and Hughs that morning, both older by a year, both already loud and laughing, jostling each other in the snow. He was content to listen—until Caroline skipped past, clutching her father’s hand, humming to herself as if she hadn’t noticed all the stares. Every male, from the youngest boy to the most hardened warrior, turned their head.
Something in Ajax’s chest snapped.
“She looks like a doll,” Nyx muttered beside him. “One of those the Velaris children carry.”
“More like a little queen,” Hughs added with a grin.
Ajax didn’t answer. He was too busy glaring at the way a cluster of boys whispered when Caroline twirled in the snow, her curls catching the light. His shadows stirred violently, curling like smoke around his ankles.
Later, when his father gathered in Keegen’s house to greet him. Gwyn gently urged Ajax to go with them, to meet Keegen’s daughter properly. He didn’t need urging. He slipped inside, already restless, only to find Caroline sitting cross-legged on the rug, surrounded by the ruffles of her pretty pink dress.
“You can be the knight,” she announced the moment she saw him, shoving a wooden sword into his hand.
Ajax blinked. “What?”
“The knight,” she repeated, as if it were obvious. “I’m the princess, and you have to rescue me.”
He frowned. No one had ever told Ajax what he had to be. But the certainty in her big brown eyes made him play along anyways. He raised the sword once, awkwardly, and she clapped like he had won the whole war.
And from that moment on, Ajax was wrapped around her finger.
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Caroline became the bright thread woven into his everyday life. She loved dresses and ribbons and anything pink and girly. She hated mud and puddles, so Ajax carried her on his back when the snow melted and the streets ran thick with slush. She hated rain, so Ajax gave her his coat when storms came down from the mountains. And when the other children stared too long, when their whispers turned sharp about the girl who looked nothing like an Illyrian, Ajax’s fists clenched and his shadows surged.
Every time, Caroline reached for his hand and whispered, “It’s alright, Ajax. Don’t be upset.”
And somehow, he wasn’t.
The teasing began early. Nyx would nudge him and say, “Your princess dropped her ribbon, knight. Better fetch it before she cries.” Hughs would snicker whenever Caroline tugged Ajax into her games of dress-up, putting flowers into his dark hair until he looked more like a faerie lord than a boy of darkness.
Ajax never cared. He let her. He would let her do anything.
Because even at seven years old, Ajax knew something no one else did: Caroline wasn’t just sunshine. She was his sunshine, the only light he ever wanted to follow.
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Ajax wasn’t sure how it was possible, but every time she sat beside him, her curls brushing his arm, he caught that faint, sweet scent. It was distracting. His little shadows curled tighter around him when she leaned close, as though they, too, wanted to be near her.
By the time they were eight, Caroline had been over to his mom and dads house on the edge of Velaris almost everyday. Her father worked long hours in the training camps, and though Keegen spoiled her endlessly when he was home, he trusted Azriel and Gwyn with his daughter as if she were blood. Gwyn adored her, calling her “little star,”. She would follow Gwyn into the kitchen, happily helping to set out bread and cheese, chattering about dresses she wanted someday, or the way the stars looked like diamonds in the night sky. She'd tug at Azriel’s hand, peppering him with questions until even the most stoic of spymasters relented, explaining in his low, quiet voice how shadows moved, why Illyrian wings were strong, and which constellations were his favorite.
And when she ran back to Ajax’s side, babbling about it all, he listened to every word. He loved her around. Though he tried not to notice the way his mother’s eyes twinkled whenever Caroline insisted on brushing his hair, or how his father’s shadows seemed to hum knowingly whenever Ajax handed over his own coat without complaint.
It was worse at night.
“Are you sure you don’t want to sleep up here?” Caroline whispered, peering down at him over the side of his bed. She was wrapped in a mountain of blankets, her curls haloed in candlelight.
Ajax lay stiff on the rug, one hand beneath his head. “I’m fine here.”
“but you don't look comfy.”
“I am.”
She looked at him with a frown on her face
He almost smiled. Almost. “Go to sleep, princess.”
Her giggle was soft, fading into the hush of the night. Within minutes, her breathing evened out. Ajax stayed awake, listening, shadows curling protectively along the doorframe, the window, the corners of the room. Only when he was certain she was safe did he finally close his eyes.
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Caroline’s birthday had filled the River House with ribbons, cake crumbs, and the sound of laughter. But nothing shone brighter than the gift Keegan placed into his daughter’s hands: a soft baby doll with golden curls and a pink blanket.
Her little teal eyes lit up, and she squealed, “Daddy! She’s perfect!” before cradling the doll in her arms as if it were a real infant. She rocked it gently, humming under her breath the way she’d seen mothers do in Windhaven.
Keegan’s throat tightened, both proud and aching. He’d raised Caroline alone since she was tiny—no mother to show her how to hold a baby, no mother to tell her how it felt. And yet… his little girl just knew.
“Caroline,” Gwyn asked warmly, leaning closer, “what do you want to be when you’re all grown up?”
Caroline looked up from the doll, her small face glowing with certainty. “I wanna be a mommy.”
A collective sigh went around the room. Feyre pressed a hand to her heart, Nesta smiled behind her wineglass, and Cassian melted on the spot.
Caroline kept talking, patting the doll’s back with all the seriousness of a nursemaid. “I love little babies. I want lots of them when I’m big.”
“Lots of them?” Nyx teased, leaning on the table. “Well, you’ll need a dad for that.” Rhysand smacked him upside the head.
Caroline blinked, thought for a moment, and then her face lit up with innocent certainty. She spun toward the boy sitting on the rug beside her. “Ajax will be the daddy!”
The entire room erupted with laughter.
Ajax, who’d been quietly watching her the whole time, froze. His face turned bright red, his wings twitching as though he wanted to fly away. “Caroline,” he groaned, covering his face with both hands.
But Caroline just giggled and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him tight as she clutched her baby doll between them.
Azriel and Gwyn were doubled over, laughter spilling freely. Keegan chuckled, though his eyes softened at the sight of his daughter’s pure joy. “Well,” he drawled, “at least she’s got high standards.”
Ajax, red to the tips of his ears, muttered something into his hands. But even as he protested, he didn’t push Caroline away. He let her hug him close, a shy, embarrassed smile tugging at his lips.
And the Inner Circle would remember it for years: the day Caroline announced her first “marriage,” her father’s pride, and Ajax’s blushing, boyish grin.
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The Inner Circle had gathered for a lazy day together, children running wild while the adults sipped wine and talked.
Caroline came skipping across the living room in her favorite frilly dress, curls bouncing, brown eyes wide with excitement. In her hands she carried a crown of daisies she had carefully strung together.
“Ajax!” she called, running to where he sat on the sofa with a book his mother had given him. “I’ve decided something important.”
Ajax lifted his head, blinking up at her, shadows twitching faintly as if curious too. “What?”
“You're going to marry me.”
The book slipped right out of his hands. “W-what?”
Caroline nodded solemnly, though her grin betrayed her excitement. “You’ll be the husband and I’ll be the wife. And we’ll live together forever.”
Across the lawn, Gwyn had frozen mid-conversation with Nesta, her hand clapping over her mouth to hide her smile. Azriel glanced over, shadows whispering at his shoulders, but the faintest curve tugged at his lips.
Cassian nearly choked on his wine. “Cauldron save us,” he wheezed, elbowing Rhys. “The boy’s already doomed.”
“Shh,” Feyre whispered, laughing softly. “Let them be.”
Caroline, utterly unbothered by the chuckles of the adults, plopped down in front of Ajax and tucked a daisy right into the collar of his shirt. “There. Now you look like a husband.”
Ajax’s face went crimson. “That’s not—Caroline, that’s not how it works—”
“Yes, it is!” she declared, grabbing his hand and tugging him to his feet. “Mr. Azzy, play the wedding song!” she demanded.
Azriel raised a brow, but at Gwyn’s encouraging nudge, he moved to the piano playing a soft and lovely melody.
Caroline gasped in delight, smoothing her skirts before walking very seriously down the “aisle” she made between the two couches. She stopped in front of Ajax, beaming up at him, while the entire Inner Circle looked on in barely contained laughter.
Hughs and Nyx were practically rolling with laughter.
Ajax stood stiff as a soldier, his cheeks flaming, every muscle in his little body screaming please let this end quickly.
“Now you may kiss the bride,” Caroline announced proudly.
“Wait—” Ajax started, but too late—she darted up on her tiptoes and planted a quick kiss right on his lips.
The room exploded with laughter. Nyx and Hughs actually toppled off their chairs, Nesta smirked behind her glass, Mor covered her mouth but her shoulders shook with mirth.
Ajax’s face went so red it looked like he might combust on the spot. Shadows curled furiously around his ankles, as though they wanted to swallow him whole.
But Caroline only giggled, taking his hand in both of hers. “See? Now we’re married.”
And as the laughter echoed through the River House, Gwyn whispered to Azriel, her eyes soft as she watched their son.
“They’re going to be trouble one day.”
Azriel only hummed, though his gaze lingered on the way Ajax didn’t pull his hand from Caroline’s—even in his blushing misery.
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The teasing only grew worse from there.
“Ajax,” Nyx drawled one afternoon, arms crossed as he watched Caroline tug Ajax toward the stables. “Your princess needs another favor. Go on, carry her over the horse muck.”
“She doesn’t like the smell,” Ajax muttered.
“She doesn’t like dirt, rain, or mud,” Hughs added with a smirk. “Look at you, her faithful servant.”
Caroline turned, hands on her hips, curls bouncing as she glared at them both. “He’s not my servant. He’s my best friend.”
The words sank into Ajax like sunlight into stone. Best friend.
Nyx and Hughs exchanged knowing looks, but for once, they said nothing more.
Caroline’s world was full of laughter and color. She tied ribbons around his wrists and declared them “friendship marks.” She insisted he sit through endless tea parties with her dolls, never once noticing that he’d rather just sit quietly and watch her.
And Ajax let her.
Because in those quiet hours, when the others mocked and the world turned cruel, it was only Caroline’s laughter that mattered. Only her hand reaching for his in the dark.
Ajax was no fool, even as a boy. He already knew his life would not be his own. He would grow into his father’s work, his father’s shadows, the weight of responsibility waiting for him.
But Caroline—Caroline was the one thing he wanted for himself.
And even then, even before he could name it, Ajax vowed he would never let the world dim her light.
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Training days were less soft.
Ajax stood in the ring with his father, Cassian, Rhys, Nyx, and Hughs, muscles straining as he worked through drills. The boys were beginning training now and although Nyx and Hughs had a couple years on him. They might be stronger but Ajax was quieter, sharper, faster—and his shadows made him unpredictable.
Caroline skipped down the hill, curls glinting in the sunlight. “Can I try?” she chirped.
Cassian raised a brow. “You want to train, sunshine?”
She nodded eagerly.
So Cassian handed her the smallest practice sword still nearly as tall as she was. Caroline grabbed it with both hands, strained, and nearly toppled forward. Nyx howled with laughter. Hughs doubled over.
Caroline’s cheeks flushed crimson. “Ajax!” she squeaked, glaring at the boys. “Come take it! I don’t like this—it’s heavy and it's ugly!” she added for good measure.
Ajax froze mid-step, then strode forward instantly, tugging the sword gently from her hands.
“Then don’t use it,” he said, laughing softly, setting it aside. His shadows curled around her ankles in comfort.
Caroline smoothed her dress, lifting her chin. “Fighting is boring anyway.”
Nyx and Hughs laughed harder, but Caroline didn't seem to care as she looped her arm through his, tugging him toward the edge of the ring. “Come on. You’re much better at pretending to be a daddy than a boring fighter.”
Ajax’s blush returned with vengeance, much to everyone’s amusement.
And though the boys laughed, no one missed the way he let her lead him away without a complaint.