SUMMARY: Another Winter Solstice is upon them. Gwyn enjoys her first Solstice celebration with the IC and among the children of the temple while Azriel has plans to make it memorable. Only, will his plans be thwarted?

He couldn't breathe.

Everything stopped, seizing in a near painful way. His heart. His lungs. Even his shadows seem to suspend in place at Gwyn's words.

She'd said them. Those three words that he'd waited his entire life to hear. She'd said them and they came out so damn easy.

"I love you."

Three words Azriel had no right to receive. No right to accept, but he was a selfish prick. In the end, he took them. They belonged to him. Those words were all Azriel had.

"Azriel?"

"Say it again."

As Gwyn affirmed what she had said, the corners of her lips tipped up. "I love you, Azriel."

His rapid blinks suppressed the burn of tears behind his eyes as he met the teal orbs in front of him. Those gentle lapping waves of Gwyn's worried eyes. With such gentleness, she cupped his face with her soft hands. This time, the wall shielding his heart cracked a little more. Gave way to her smile. There was a pulsation and thump, a rhythm in the air. The unusual tempo was familiar and the melody beautiful. Shadows dancing to the music seemed to say yes.

Yes.

So badly, he wished to repeat those words and recite them back. However, his throat grew constrictive. Azriel's chest ached as he relived his past follies with these words being played as the song faded.

You declared you loved Issie, and then she died. You told her you loved her. That you considered her your partner, and she dismissed you. And then she was lifeless.

Rhys's mother died with Issie because you told her you loved her before you left for the mission.

The last words you said to your mother before she was injured and forced into her own hell were "I love you."

What is the only thing they shared? It was your love. Your words. You.

Silence followed. An uneasy note in the thick air.

A burning sensation raced down his throat as he gulped hard.

Damn him. Damn him to hell, he couldn't damn her. The words would not leave his mouth. Not right now. Perhaps never. But he would show her.

As Gwyn's palms started slipping away from his cheeks, he captured her wrists. An instant later, his mouth collided with hers. His lips lingered over hers, a stable fingers held her jaw. Slow and steady. Practiced as each spar began in the training ring. Controlled. Precise. Decisive sweeps of lips and strokes of their tongues.

Until it wasn't. The softness of her body met the aching hardness of his when she rolled into him, pressing her hips into his lap as he exhaled. A hiss left his mouth as the full warmth of her settled against him. While drawing her close, his hands found her nape, keeping her near and taking control. As a worthy battle for control. Dominance proved who felt more. Loved more fiercely.

The moment he finally pulled back, leaning his forehead on hers, they were both shaking and his control was on the verge of breaking. When her eyes found him, pupils blown wide, he knew she would say yes. Despite this,...

"It's late, Gwyn." His sigh was deafening as he leaned back, holding in his frustrated groan as she licked her lower lip. "We have a long day tomorrow and I have to wake up early."

"Doesn't Rhysand give you time off on holidays?"

As the shadowsinger laughed, he lowered his head. "Yes, and no. There is a tradition now where Cassian and Feyre decorate for the Winter Solstice. Instead, they get drunk and there are sprigs of holly, and evergreen strewed all over the house." And sometimes garland merely adorned an extremely intoxicated Cassian.

"And that's where the mighty shadowsinger comes in? To decorate?" Gwyn blinked at him with wide eyes, as if picturing him performing such a menial task was confounding. Several years later, Azriel remained just as confused.

"Indeed."

As Gwyn laughed, she tipped forward. Soft lips pressed against his cheek, sealing his eyes and causing him to shudder. A tender gesture full of…

'Love,' his shadows completed his thoughts. 'She loves you. And we've been telling you for a while, Shadowsinger.'

"You can't stay?" she asked. Her warm breath blew by his ear, sending waves of heat right to his dick. He compelled himself to concentrate and not do exactly what she was implying.

"Not tonight, Berdara. We both have to be up early tomorrow."

"What does tomorrow have to do with tonight, Shadowsinger?"

The tips of his fingers touched her waist. "Don't you have a morning service?"

Gwyn gave a loud, annoyed huff making him snicker. "Yes. I promised the children I'd be there for the service in the morning. They are singing." Her hands caressed over his shoulders, the fingertips spreading awfully close to his wings. "Tulia. The little lady I sang with, asked me to come."

"She misses you."

Gwyn nodded, her hair sweeping against his skin. "So, I guess, we should get some sleep, then."

His heart sank as Gwyn slipped off of his lap onto the bed, and he cursed himself for leaving her right after she gave her heart to him. But if Az stayed… He wanted to give her more. The whole fucking world. Give her something significant.

Even if he couldn't say the words, he would show her.

Azriel tucked her under the covers, his shadows drawing the blankets up to her chin. When he was kissing her softly, he told himself everything would be different tomorrow. Hopefully, for the better.

The idea alone made his strides to the door so much easier as he whispered, "Goodnight, Gwyn." And closed the door behind him.

"They are just darling," Gwyn whispered, her smile not able to get any wider as she watched the children sway to the music, their voices ricocheting off the ceiling. The performance wasn't perfect, and some shouted more than sang, but they sang their little hearts out. That counted. This eve, the Mother called for exaltation. To spread merriment into the longest night of the year.

Tulia's eyes met hers, her fingers white-knuckling the threadbare teddy bear in her hands. But she sang on her own, delivering her tiny voice to the heavens. When Roslin raised and dropped her hands, their harmony faded with the echoes of the bells.

Collective applause erupted from the usually stoic group of priestesses and the girls went wide-eyed and stood a scant taller in the small dusty blue robes. Tulia's grin was vast, and Gwyn caught she was missing several more teeth than the last time she saw her.

When the service concluded, the slight girl nearly flew to Gwyn's side. The Valkyrie bent down and took the brunt of the peculiarly strong girl who threw herself into her arms.

"Gwyn!" Tulia's voice was bright, a minor lisp because of her teeth.

"You did so well!" Gwyn peered up, finding others who wanted to say hello. "All of you. You did outstanding."

"I have to agree," Nesta said, her smile genuine. The eldest Archeron knelt at Tulia's level and Tulia jumped out from Gwyn into Nesta's welcoming arms. Seeing the two made Gwyn's heart smile. Over the month since Gwyn left priestesshood, she took every chance she could to visit the children. Instill a sense of normalcy whenever they visited and now staying.

In a surprise move, Nesta joined, bringing sweets and other gifts from the House. At first, Nesta clearly intimidated the young ones, but her stories quickly won them over and, of course, the mini pegasus. Quite the contraband in the temple. But honestly, who might scold Lady Death?

Nesta had taken to Tulia right away, and Tulia requested stories of the human lands from Nesta, usually as Gwyn repaired the threadbare teddy bear with needle and thread. Nesta had bought the children each a new stuffed animal of their choice, including a new bear for Tulia. But Tulia wouldn't accept.

"Momma gave me this bear," Tulia simply said, clutching the bear to her chest, her clear blue eyes glazed with tears. Nesta had taken the little lady into her heart and hadn't let go.

"Gwyn and I brought you all a gift for Solstice," Nesta said, a great bag appearing behind her courtesy of the House. The kids squealed for joy and dove like a pack of hungry water-wraiths, the flurry of torn paper and bows of chaos around them.

Tulia remained on the sidelines, waiting, afraid to get crushed. Gwyn didn't blame her.

"Nes! You in here?" Cassian stepped into the temple, Clotho by his side. A smile crossed under her darkened hood as the High Priestess watched the children's glee. Cassian snorted and shook his head. "Cauldron, it's like a war zone in here. Who knew little girls were such vicious creatures."

As he carefully tiptoed around them, Nesta said, "Vicious little girls grow up to be equally brave and fierce Valkyries."

Cassian took a step closer to Nesta and stared down at the little girl by Gwyn's side, her tawny hair falling against her back as she tilted her head up.

"He is tall," the girl whispered to Gwyn, her mouth concealed behind her hand.

Before Gwyn had a chance to reply, Cassian said, "I am."

He knelt at Tulia's level beside Nesta, placing a kiss on his mate's head. Gwyn was never so happy to see Cassian in simple clothing and weapon-free, wearing a dark maroon tunic and black breeches.

"Cassian, this is Tulia." As Gwyn made the introductions, she wrapped a reassuring arm around the little girl's shoulders, tucking some caramel locks behind the little girl's somewhat arched ear. "Tulia, this is Cassian. He's my friend and is Nesta's mate."

"Happy Solstice, lady Tulia. It's a pleasure to meet you," Cassian greeted, placing a hand over his chest, bowing slightly. After being formally greeted, the girl giggled.

"Hi," Tulia said, as small and soft as the girl herself. "Your wings are really big."

He smiled warmly in a purely Cassian way that somehow put anyone at ease. "Thanks, kid."

"They are the biggest I've ever seen." Those bright cerulean eyes flitted, and Gwyn could swear Cassian spread them marginally.

"The biggest around, in fact," he said. Nesta and Gwyn couldn't stop from rolling their eyes at the obvious wingspan joke clearly over Tulia's short head. "I like this kid," he whispered to Nesta. His mate rolled her eyes.

"Anything to stroke your ego," Nesta huffed, but the closed-lipped smile was still plastered on her face.

Tulia tilted her head at him curiously, assessing the general as he would his legion. "Why is your hair up like a ballerina?"

Nesta snorted a laugh as Cassian patted the low bun at his nape, whispering under his breath that he was a mighty warrior, not a ballerina. Despite his reassurances, Tulia seemed unconvinced.

Twisting around, Nesta pulled the large sack through the piles of torn paper and presented Tulia with her present. Handing Gwyn her most trusted teddy bear. Small hands took the wrapped gift. Her bright eyes lined with silver as her fingers skimmed over the tag.

"That's my name," she said, her eyes lifted to Nesta. "It's for me? "

Nesta's slate eyes were like rain on cobblestone as she bowed, swallowing hard. Unable to answer, Cassian said, "Yeah, it's a Solstice gift, Tulia. From us to you."

A label bearing her name caught her wide-eyed attention. "The last gift I ever got was my bear… from Momma."

The mother Tulia lost when she was only a toddler at Sangravah. The child knew the bear's origin story because of the other priestesses. Because Tulia didn't remember her mother. As Gwyn's chest clenched in grief, she reached out to rub the back of the girl in small circles.

Smiling, Tulia hugged the still-wrapped gift and pranced off as if she'd been handed the key to Velaris.

"She didn't even open it," Cassian chuckled, running a hand on his nape, adjusting the leather strap bound around his hair.

Gwyn peered down at the tattered bear in her hands, one now missing an eye and parts of the fur worn away. A bear Gwyn had sewn back up so many times. How many tears had been shed over the well-loved stuffed animal for a mother gone? How many others had done the same?

"Priestesses, even the young ones, don't receive many gifts," Gwyn said, her eyes darting to the glass charm dangling from the bracelet on her wrist. A gift left for her a year ago with Clotho. And though Gwyn had her suspicions, he'd said nothing.

"Well, now with Rhys and Feyre are supporting them, that's going to change. I'm sure Rhys is already searching for ways to spoil them rotten," Cass grinned, his eyes never faltering from the scene with the little girl hugging a still-wrapped package.

Nesta hummed positive assessments. "Though my preening brother-in-law and I might not agree on everything, I will help him on their crusade." As Cassian rose and helped Nesta to her feet, Gwyn couldn't help but notice how neither of them tore their gazes from the giggling little lady, her brown hair fanning behind as she twirled with the wrapped present in her tiny arms.

Gwyn rolled a ball of crumpled wrapping paper to Nyx, who sat on the floor, his mother seated behind him. He clapped and giggled as he reached for it like it was his new favorite toy. The new piles of clothes and toys he'd received as gifts next to them barely touched. Of course, Nyx would find the paper and empty boxes more entertaining.

The river house looked lovely, the boughs of holly and evergreen evenly draped over doorways and mantels. The shadowsinger apparently was a perfectionist in all tasks. Even decorating. And when Gwyn complimented him earlier, she could swear he blushed.

There were piles and piles of gifts abound, including many more for Feyre. Gods above, she wished Azriel would have informed her the day was also the High Lady's birthday! She felt a fool when the massive tiered cake rolled out and they handed the presents out.

She had, however, bought gifts for everyone else. Well, maybe not. Apart from the research and help she provided to Rhysand, her Valkyrie duties, and her spy training for Azriel, her official employment was currently unpaid. Though, if Gwyn asked, she would think the High Lord would add her to the payroll.

But Gwyn wouldn't dare be too audacious.

With limited means, Gwyn did what always did on holidays. She put her soul and heart into every gift. And always something unexpected.

The ex-priestess knew everyone assumed the bracelets, but she had a few secrets up her sleeve.

"Oh, a winter hat!" The High Lady exclaimed, turning the dove gray knit in her hands and playing with the black poof on top. "And it matches Nyx's! Thank you, Gwyn!"

Heat rose to Gwyn's cheeks, and Azriel had nudged her with his elbow. The shadowsinger repeatedly praised the presents as perfect. Az's was a black skull cap per his request. As was Rhysand's. Cassian's was a crimson reminiscent of his siphons. Gwyn may have added the cutout for his man bun per Tulia's conversation with him earlier today in jest. Nesta's blue was steely. Both Mor and Emerie's hats were red, and they chuckled at their identical looks.

Gwyn even knitted one for Elain in the same lilac as the dress she had seen last time at Rita's. Although she still hadn't figured out what she had done to the female, the memory still bothered her.

Amren held one as flaming as the brightest rubies, though the being from Gwyn's nightmares seemed to appreciate the added touch of sewn-in faux jewels around the brim. Gwyn assumed Varian, being from the Summer Court, would like teal, even though she knew he would not use it. Due to his upcoming visit to the Winter Court, he actually seemed grateful. Her gift would be helpful to him, which thrilled Gwyn to hear.

She was unaware of Lucien Vanserra's presence to make him a gift. He had offered her a pleasant smile, and a sketched bow in a greeting, which left her smiling and Azriel visibly tense beside her. The two redheads struck up a straightforward conversation.

One look at her hair, and the brow above Lucien's amazing mechanical eye had winged. "Autumn, I presume?"

"Partial, yes."

"Have you ever visited the Court?"

Gwyn shook her head in the negative. "No. My mother spent some time there, though. She lived in the Forest House for a time."

The entire room froze. Even Rhysand leaned in an ear to the conversation. Lucien's shock was visible, the tension body thrumming and head angled. Assessing.

"Hmm," was all Lucien said, assessing her as if she were some kind of question with his calculating gaze.

Besides the odd moment with Lucien, the gathering was cheerful and light. Joyful and giving. Full of love and hope. This is the meaning of family. It had actually overjoyed her to receive any gift, including the hideous matching sweater for her and Azriel. She wasn't sure there was a green in nature. Cassian called it 'baby-shit green'. Either way, the thought counted and Gwyn accepted the ugliest sweater she'd ever seen with a smile.

"Mor will expect us to put them on together at some point," Azriel sighed quietly in her ear. Her spine tingled as he gently blew over the shell.

"I'm game," Gwyn said, her breathy tone revealing the effect his touch had on her.

His lips kissed her forehead, whispering, "I told you blowing had its place, Berdara."

"Good job, Nyx," Gwyn said, refocusing, clapping her hands excitedly as tossed the ball across to her. She rose on her knees, smoothing out the navy velvet dress over her thighs. "He has quite an arm."

Feyre bent over, setting a sweet kiss on his head, slicking back the raven hair from his forehead. The gesture was lovely. "Oh, I do not doubt if allowed, Nyx would trounce all the boys this year in the snowball fight."

Gwyn angled her head to the side, the swing of her high ponytail hitting the side of her face. "Snowball fight?"

"Azriel never told you?" Cassian asked. "Well, to be expected, since he took losing so hard last year. I, Az, and Rhys go up to the cabin in Illyria every Solstice since forever and have a snowball fight. It's a family tradition. I won last year."

Rhysand clicked his tongue from his place over by the fireplace. "Only because you were too blissed out by what happened between you and Nesta, and Azriel and me..." Gwyn could not precisely read the sharp lines on his face, but the eye contact softened the look when he met hers. "Well, doesn't matter. And it definitely won't matter when I defeat you both in the morning."

Rolling his eyes, Cassian smirked. "Keep dreaming, Rhysie." Looking around, he turned his head. "Speaking of which, where is the shadowy little shit? I'm sure he's plotting a strategy."

Upon turning her head, Gwyn surveyed the surroundings. Good question. Where was Azriel?

Because the shadowsinger was nowhere to be found.

He needed a break and a breather. There was enough stress without Vanserra constantly hounding Gwyn.

'He was merely curious about her heritage, Shadowsinger.'

Deep down, Azriel recognized. But another part of him wanted to gouge out Vanserra's good eye and give it to Nyx to play with for merely looking at Gwyn. Gwyn in ger cute as hell dark blue dress, one Nesta had commissioned for her. Long length, long-sleeved, simple cut, but showed off every godsdamn curve she had. And Vanserra had spoken to her while she wore that. Examining her carefully. The shadowsinger had to leave. Something primal in him, rising with every high-pitched whirr of the damnable mechanical eye of his.

And, gods didn't the loathing bring up not so fond memories of the previous Solstice. Of standing alone by the doorway in case he had to bolt. In case the scent of their miserable mating bond was too much.

Last year, the mere thought, let alone being in their presence, was the fucking bane of his existence. Now their mating bond was barely discernible. And, honestly? This year, he didn't give a shit.

Azriel's fingers clenched around his rocks glass of whiskey as he walked through the boxwood hedge maze of the garden. The dull green now dusted in powder as the snow slowly flurried to the ground in a dusting. He shimmied fallen flakes off the tops of his wings. The frosted grass crunched under his boots as he drank and thought. Drank and reflected.

Tonight. Tonight was it. Azriel was going to do something. Something he'd never done before. Not once. What he was considering was offering his heart into her hands. To hold and cherish. Or to crush and throw away.

'She won't do the latter,' his shadows assured, their quiet anticipation infectious.

Fuck, was he really doing this?

He tossed back the rest of his drink, hissing at the burn as the liquor warmed his body. With his head tilted back and eyes fixed on the stars and moon in the sky, Azriel silently prayed to the Mother. To the Cauldron.

"Please."

Please let her like his gift.

Please let her see what he was offering in his own way.

Even without saying the words.

Please give him the strength.

Spine honed into something stronger than steel, Azriel started the trek back to the river house before a voice had him halt. His steps faltered, planting into the snow. His hands balling into tight fists.

"Happy Solstice, Azriel."

Az turned, faced with a scene so like a year before. The two of them meeting in secrecy. Those hickory eyes were large and innocent, like a startled fawn staring at him behind golden branches. Haunting him.

His shadows dissipated in the winter wind.

Elain.

Heads up, Solstice is going to be the next one or two chapters. Again, this one kind of took on a life of its own. Hope you enjoyed it!