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Chapter 3: the only thing on my mind✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
"What exactly are you doing?" Oriana finally asked after she had spent a good five minutes watching Azriel fuss at his armour.
She had first started watching because seeing the way the scars wrapped around his hand fascinated her. And then she continued to watch because, for the life of her, she couldn't understand what he was trying to achieve.
He was keeping her company in the forge for the evening, mostly because he would be going away for a few days somewhere. She didn't ask, he didn't volunteer…she just hoped it wouldn't end with him bruised and dazed sitting at her kitchen table again.
"I burned out one of my siphons. So I need to fix that," Azriel answered, still fussing with it, until finally he managed to pop out the siphon…out of a side seam?
Now, she was interested. She watched more carefully, having realised that he had opened one of the side seams as the siphon was held in place between the two layers of leather.
It was the stupidest construction method she had ever seen.
"Why do you take apart the whole armour for that?" she asked him carefully. What was she missing?
"It's not armour. It's fighting leathers," he corrected her with some amusement.
She just raised an eyebrow and he held them out for her perusal.
She took them, and one quick look made her realise that there wasn't one bit of metal in there at all. It was all just…leather. Not even particularly thick in places. How was that supposed to stop anybody from stabbing him?
"Is there a specific reason why you don't wear armour?" she asked him. Wouldn't that…be much safer?
"I need to move to be able to fly," Azriel gave back like it was crystal clear why he couldn't possibly wear anything but this.
Still, Oriana couldn't believe that there wasn't a way to somehow make the metal work so that it wouldn't be too heavy for him to carry around and also not impede his movement.
That was just impossible.
She stared at the hole that held the Siphon in place, thinking back to the leather straps with a similar construction method that she had seen wrapped around his hands.
"And why do you take it apart to put a new siphon in?" she asked.
Why like that? Why not some kind of setting, where the siphon was held in place and there was a mechanism to remove it easily? A setting that didn't mean that he spent a good 20 minutes easing it out of the place it was.
"It's the only way to do it. It's held in place between the layers of leather," Azriel explained, grasping hold of the chest piece and showing her the hole.
"Is there a reason why it's done like that?" she finally asked. "Do the siphons get hot with use so they would melt metal or…" she trailed off and he shook his head.
"No?" he responded questioningly. "This is just…how it always was," he admitted.
Right. And because this was how it always was nobody ever thought about the idea that maybe…maybe there was another way? A better way?
Oriana's mind was already reeling with all her ideas to improve it. This was what she used to do. She found something that already existed and then she perfected it.
"Do you have an old set of these that I can borrow?" she asked, still staring at the black leather.
She had used to do leather work, more of a hobby than anything, and she hadn't been bad at it…if she had something that she could copy…then she had a chance.
"Why?" Azriel asked her.
"Because I am going to fix your Siphon problem," Oriana said drily. "Or do they have some kind of religious significance that I should be aware of and trying to make them better is blasphemy?" she wondered and he snorted.
Out of thin air, suddenly the shadows dropped an old pair of fighting leathers on her workbench and she couldn't help but grin.
"Thank you!" she sing songed. "Do you also have some old siphons I can use? Burned-out ones preferably that are still intact?" They were dropped right next to the fighting leathers moments later. "There we go," she said pleasantly. "I'll get back to you in 3 to 5 business days, Azriel," she told him, already pulling the old set of fighting leather closer to herself for a new perusal.
She was going to fix this and they were going to be so much better when she was finally finished with them.
"You don't need to do this," Azriel finally said quietly and she looked up to find him staring at her, dark eyes earnest. "You don't need to…" he trailed off, seemingly searching for the right words.
Right.
She still had her work cut out for her on that front.
She came back around her workbench, walking towards him who was still sitting in the chair that she had gotten him…and then sat sideways down on his lap, ignoring the soft noise of shock that he made.
She settled the dress she wore around him, as always floor length, tight around the waist, laced shut at the back.
Even when she no longer lived in the mountain, she was still…more comfortable in the fashion off the mountain than she was with the cropped tops and flowy pants of the Night Court.
Azriel said nothing as she made herself comfortable, scarcely breathing as she settled on his lap, curling one hand around the back of his neck.
"Look at me," she murmured, waiting until hazel eyes settled on her. She took in the flecks of emeralds in the dark brown that reminded her of a smoky, dark and beautiful quartz. A thumb gently swiped over his cheekbone, holding him like he was the most precious thing in her life."You are my mate," Oriana said.
"And you still don't need to do this," Azriel disagreed. She smiled at him, softly, leaning up to press a chaste kiss against his lips. Her necklace warmed in warning and she pulled back slightly.
"I am always going to do anything in my power to make your life easier for you," she whispered. "I want to do this. I am going to do my damnest to keep you safe. Even when it's the last thing I do."
It was the most she could say right now, the most she wanted to say. She wasn't sure if it was enough, but it was the right words because there was Azriel, his eyes bright and near golden as suddenly strong arms pulled her against him tightly, burying his face against her neck. He said nothing.
She said nothing as well, just trailed a hand through the edges of his hair and hummed softly.
Still, it made her wonder if he ever had that before. A person willing to go to the ends of the world to keep him safe. A person willing to make his job even a little bit easier. She didn't think so, especially not if such tiny things garnered this sort of reaction.
The more puzzle pieces she collected that made Azriel who he was…the more Oriana's temper flared.
Not at him.
Never at him. Not when he had done absolutely nothing other than thinking that she was going to turn him away again every time he turned up on her doorstep. Not when he thought that clearly, she deserved so much better than him, regardless of how ridiculous that notion was.
At all the people surrounding him who seemingly took and took from him and never thought about the consequences of their actions.
There was seemingly only her who was there to protect him when Azriel took on the world of the world on his broad shoulders and didn't expect anybody to help him, to take some of the weight off him.
And Oriana was going to do her damnest to keep him safe.
And so, when he left for his next mission, she handed over the shop to the two females she kept hiring for a few hours then and there, and buried herself in her work.
She didn't just do things that involved Azriel. She still needed to keep her shop stocked, though Azriel was at the forefront of her mind.
Always was. Especially with his tendrils of shadows keeping her company.
She talked to them, a non-stop commentary on her work and sometimes they answered her once again. Most of the time they stayed wrapped around her wedding necklace and out of the way as she soldered and engraved.
She wasn't one step closer to a prototype of armour that was actually useful and not just something that would hinder his movement, but she did manage to solve the Siphon problem in less than the 3 to 5 business days she had told him.
Mostly because after she had spent a day trying to solve it the magical way and nearly signed off her eyebrows because siphon didn't like it at all if you put magic on them that wasn't the magic that they had been locked onto in the first place apparently…well, Oriana had solved it the mechanical way.
A holder that slid in the hold the siphon had used to sit in that the siphon then clipped onto from the outside. To open it, you needed a simple screwdriver and it would take less than 3 minutes to change it out. She knew that. She had tested it.
And as in the evenings she crawled into her bed and left her forge behind…Oriana was happy. She had missed this.
There was only so much jewellery she could make which was a challenge to her.
All the things she sold these days were not a challenge to her anymore.
But having a problem and figuring that out… made her fingers itch to go back for more.
And so she did.
The longer she spent in her forge, the happier she was, giddy with excitement, her brain flowing over with ideas upon ideas of other things to make, to create, to enchant, to learn and to work…
She couldn't even remember the last she had felt like that.
She was in a good mood when Azriel suddenly stepped out of the shadows a few days later, even when she nearly lost control of the flames that danced in her hands as she finished with the pieces she had been working on.
She looked up, decided that she was jealous of his shadow-travelling abilities and then pushed up her magnifying glasses into her hair, only to hop off from her stool and happily throw herself at Azriel who caught her with a surprised oomph.
"You are in a good mood," he told her with a laugh, the sound one of the most beautiful things she had ever heard.
Oriana grinned wildly at him.
"I spent all my time in my forge, I solved your Siphon problem, I still have no clue about armour, and I need to do some research, but it was so much fun!" she told him excitedly, as he leaned down to press a kiss against her unresisting lips.
"Want to show me?" he asked her and her grin widened.
She got to show off her new toys to somebody willing to listen to her ramble on? Perfect.
He did watch her new Siphon mechanism with the kind of intense focus that she had gotten used to from him, fingers carefully probing the edges and listening to her.
"Test it in training. Tell me if you have any problems that I need to iron out. I'll fix it and then we go again," she told him as she pressed them into his hands.
"You are remarkable, Oriana," Azriel said quietly and she couldn't help but blush.
"Well, thanks on remarking on it," she quipped but pressed his hand in thanks. "And now as you have listened to me ramble on and on, what's new in your life?"
He snorted in amusement at that segway.
"Do you have any plans this afternoon?" he asked her and she stared at him.
"No?" she answered. "Penelope has the shop in hand for the day…she can lock it up too, if…we have somewhere to be?" she told him questioningly and he nodded.
"I want you to learn to defend yourself," Azriel told her earnestly.
He looked like he was getting ready for an argument but Oriana was really not holding out to argue with him, right now when she just got him back. And really, how bad could it possibly be?
"Alright," she agreed and he looked so taken aback by her agreement that she couldn't help but laugh at his dumbstruck expression. "What, did you expect me to complain?" she teased him.
"You keep surprising me," he muttered under his breath. "I should be getting used to it now."
"I'll keep you on your toes," Oriana corrected him brightly. "And if me learning to defend myself gives you any kind of peace…then I'll do it," she promised.
It was such a small thing for her to give him. She could spend a few hours a week trying to learn it. What was the worst that could happen?
The last thing she had expected was for him to suddenly push her back against her workbench or the way his hungry mouth descended on her…but Oriana was nothing if not highly adaptable. Hey, her mate wanted to make out with her, she was on board with that.
Especially if that meant that she could bury her hands in his wavy curls and keep him as close to her as possible, as his tongue hungrily licked into her mouth and she moaned in response.
The necklace of her throat warmed up, heated up to something that would have burned another person and for her was nothing more than a nuisance. (She really needed to figure out how to deal with it.)
Still, she pushed it out of her mind, because she was going to do her best to enjoy that lovely kiss, to feel Azriel wrapped around her, and even ignore the way her workbench was biting into her hip. After all, it meant that he was still keeping her cornered against it, broad chest and arms casing her in.
He pulled back a moment later, pupils blown wide, breathing hard.
"I…sorry," he apologised, his voice hoarse.
Oriana wasn't having that.
"Don't. It's all good," she told him fiercely, pressing another peck on his lips.
"I still have both my arms," he said nearly wonderingly and she couldn't help but laugh.
"Definitely not complaining," she promised him. (Note to herself: Fix that stupid necklace.)
He stepped back and she let him go, even when there was heat knotting low in her belly in a way that she…couldn't even remember.
Azriel cleared his throat.
"I brought these for you," he told her, holding out a a pair of knives that were very much not the ornamental, gem-studded ones that she made.
These were far more practical. "I know you can make your own, but these are a bit more practical than your works of art," he explained, reaching out for her hands and placing one of them into them. He mustered it for a moment, changing her grip until she held them in a way that he judged to be right. "They should be lightweight enough for your hands. Looks about right for size," he murmured under his breath.
"Am I supposed to throw these?" she asked him finally and he shook his head.
"No. Stab people, yes," he told her seriously. He said that like that was fully something he expected in her future and she wanted to grimace at that. Her people kept out of fighting and wars out of principle. "We'll practice, of course," he added.
That was probably for the best. Just so that she didn't accidentally stab herself.
"Alright," she agreed. "…So where do you want to practice?" Oriana asked him. "I don't think the forge is a good space for it."
It was probably. going to mess up her careful organisation that only she understood. And she would much rather not fall into her own fire. She would be fine, but her clothing wouldn't. And she liked the dress she wore.
"It's definitely not. Not enough room," Azriel agreed. "So…how do you feel about flying?" he asked her, a hesitant smile on his face.
Oh.
Oh, yes.
"Well, I am willing to try anything once," she finally said. Did that mean that she was finally going to see his wings in all their glory?
"Do you have anything to wear that's not a gown?" Azriel asked her and she stared at him.
"Well, will somebody that wants to hurt me allow me the time to change my clothing?" she gave back drily. "Shouldn't I train in the clothing that I would most likely wear when I need to use my newfound fighting abilities?"
She much preferred gowns over trousers.
"You are right," he agreed and she shrugged.
"I often am," she quipped. "So, do we need to go on the roof or something?"
They did not need to go on the roof. They did find themselves in her stamp-sized backyard though, and the wings unfurled off his back with one single stroke.
They were bigger than she thought they would be. That was her first thought. They were massive. They reminded her of a bat, with their black colour, though it seemingly shifted through a dark rainbow as the spring sun shone through them, shoving every vein. They were tipped with claws, so sharp that it seemed like he had honed them like she had seen him do with his blades.
It was…beautiful.
She couldn't help the shocked sound that escaped her.
"You are beautiful," she whispered, still staring at them. They shifted again, nearly like they had a mind of their own as Azriel held out a hand for her and she took it, because what else was she supposed to do?
He pulled her closer to him.
"You need to hold onto me. I won't let you fall," he promised her. She swallowed.
It had seemed great in theory. In practice, it scared the shit out of her to be completely honest.
"You have done this before, right?" she asked hesitantly and she could nearly feel the amusement rolling from him in waves.
"Yes," he promised her. "I swear, you'll be perfectly safe," he told her. "I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise."
"Alright," she agreed, carefully holding onto the back of his neck with both hands as he leaned down slightly to hoist her up like she weighed nothing at all.
And then, with one mighty flap of these enormous wings, they were airborne.
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The noise that she made when he launched them into the sky was something between a squawk and a whimper, her hands clawing themselves into his leathers, and she kept her eyes tightly closed.
He did his best to keep his movement as even as he could, easily adjusting to the extra weight that he was carrying.
"Are you alright?" he asked her when they had finally reached a proper height and he turned towards the mountains and the forest. He had a clearing in mind for their training, somewhere where there would be more than enough space for them to move around freely.
"I think I just realised that I am terrified of heights," Oriana admitted and he bit back a laugh, feeling the wind whip around them. "Don't you dare laugh at me," Oriana complained."Leave me alone, I was literally born underground."
"Sorry, sorry," he apologised but couldn't help against the laugh bubbling up inside him.
Every time he was with her, he felt so much lighter. Like all the weight in the world had been taken off his shoulders. Something in Oriana made him feel invincible.
She still kept her eyes closed, her lips tightly pressed together. "I am not going to let you plummet to your death," he promised her instead.
He wasn't. And there was a part of him that wanted Oriana to love flying as much as he did. Love the feeling of freedom that it brought, the wind that was whipping around them, the sigh of Velaris beneath them.
"I trust you, I don't trust my stomach," Oriana shot back.
"Come one, just one look," he cajoled her. She blinked open one eye, staring over his shoulder.
Her stomach held strong and he relaxed as he felt her muscles stop being quite as locked up as they had been. "Sometimes I forget how beautiful Velaris is," she said softly, the muscles that held her close to him relaxing a tiny bit. He chalked that up as a win as he circled the forest until he started a slow descent that brought her to cling to him tighter once again.
He took more care to land than he would have if it was just him, making sure that she wasn't jostled all too much and then slowed to a stop right there in the middle of this clearing.
It was just at the edges of the land belonging to his house and there was a reason for that. If something went wrong, he would only need to push Priana over the ward boundaries he had set and she would be as safe as he could manage.
"Alright?" he asked her and she hummed.
"I'll get used to it," she murmured and he couldn't help a grin, because that wasn't a I am never going to do this again, you lunatic.
He let her down to stand on her own two feet, even when he would have gladly kept holding on to her for longer.
"So, you promised me to show how to stab somebody?" she asked him and he couldn't help but grow serious.
He wished that he didn't need to teach her that. But he wasn't stupid. And he was very much aware that Oriana was the biggest weakness anybody could exploit. He would lay waste to an entire world to protect her.
"We'll start with the most important thing," he told her and she raised an eyebrow at him.
"Don't stab myself?" she suggested and he snorted.
"That's a given," he gave back. "Balance. You don't want to be knocked off kilter."
He demonstrated the way every Illyrian boy was taught so that he could move in any direction immediately and easily.
Slightly bent knees, ready to be attacked at a moment's notice. Keep on your feet, because if you don't, you are dead.
Oriana watched him, moving slightly. It was hard to tell if she had the stance right, especially with her swathed in the long dresses she tended to favour. They were modest to a fault, with a high neckline, and sleeves that always at least reached her elbows, leaving her hands and forearms free, because otherwise, she was going to accidentally set them on fire while working in the forge. Swishing along the floor at the wide hem.
Still, this would be easier, if she wasn't wearing them.
His brain came to a screeching halt.
If she was wearing trousers.
Trousers. Not…not nothing at all, that wasn't what…
Yeah, that was exactly what had been engraved into his mind now and he swallowed against the sudden stab of arousal.
"Azriel?" Oriana prodded, staring at him.
"If you stand like this, you can move easily," he said calmly, his voice not betraying everything that he had thought about just moments before.
She moved a step to the left, then to the right, a hand tucking up her skirts so that he could see the surprisingly sensible and sturdy leather boots that she wore on her feet.
He opened his mouth to correct her, but she already moved her feet exactly like he would have corrected her.
"Oh, it's like dancing!" she exclaimed happily. He blinked.
Well, he supposed, it was…not that different?
"You like dancing?" he asked her dumbly.
Oriana nodded, a fond smile taking over her face. "I do. In the mountain, we used to dance every evening after dinner. I miss that," she said softly. "One of the few things that I miss from there."
"What don't you miss?" he couldn't help but ask. He was still hoarding every bit of knowledge he got to have about her and feeling horrible that he couldn't get his mouth open to tell her much if anything about himself. It was like…there was a block there that he could do nothing against.
"The fact that you are surrounded with the same people day in and day out. I was my mother's daughter and that brought with it some…courtly duties of sorts. There wasn't really much to do other than being in the forge and dancing after dinner," Oriana said with a shrug. "In Velaris…I can go out and about as I please and nobody gives me a second look."
He could understand that.
"So I move like that?" she asked him and he nodded.
"Yes. Try to keep the distance between us the same," he told her. Oriana frowned, brow furrowing in concentration.
He stepped forward, and she stepped back, easily keeping her balance.
And so they continued. He was surprised at how quickly she caught onto it, and that she had a surprising amount of stamina but then he supposed, she spent her days in the forge, using a surprising amount of magic and strength to bend metal to her will.
"Alright. Good job," he said, her cheeks growing pink. He held out one of the knives he had bought for her and she palmed it carefully. He reached out to correct her grip so that it wouldn't go flying the first time she moved faster. "Try to get used to the weight." She nodded.
They picked it up again.
The knife didn't seem to match her, not when he had seen the kind of knives she made. Deadly works of art. just like the hairpins she had made. Nesta had gotten a kick out of them.
These weren't the prettiest knives he could have picked out, he had bought a lovely one set with ruby and given it to Morrigan, mostly because he had felt horrible that he had given Feyre and Nesta both gifts and hadn't given one of his oldest friends one.
He called an end to that round of practice quite quickly.
"Good. Now try to stab me," he told her and Oriana stared at him.
"Excuse me?" she asked him.
"Try to stab me," he repeated.
"This is life steel. What if I hurt you?" she asked him and he bit back a smile.
"You won't," he assured her.
"How could you possibly be sure?" Oriana said, crossing her arms. "I could have beginner's luck! I don't want you to bleed out!"
He considered that. "Fine." He held out a sheath for the knife. "Put the sheath on, and try to hit me with the covered blade. Go as hard and as fast as you possibly can. And I'll show you why I am sure."
He's genuinely impressed by how hard and fast she moved. Still, he was faster.
He didn't survive 500 years without honing his reflexes. And so he caught her wrist in his hands, as gently as he could, gently enough not to bruise her and held down her weapon away from him.
"See," he whispers in her ear, breathing in the scent of warmth and fire and she grinned at him, the fire in her eyes flaming.
He hadn't actually thought that he would enjoy this any more than sitting in the forge with her. Enjoy it because he liked spending time with Oriana and not enjoying it because…well.
Still, seeing her with a knife was surprisingly appealing.
He hadn't expected that.
He didn't think that he would like to see her in an actual battle, he would be too worried about her but like this, right here, where he knew that nothing bad was going to happen…and she had some fun with it, a grin covering her face…
He did enjoy it.
She stepped back, and he let go of her, only for her to lunge for him again.
And so they continued until she had enough, sweat covering her forehead. The sun was starting to come down and on the flight back to her house she was watching Velaris wide-eyed over his shoulder.
All in all…a pretty good way to spend his afternoon.
He was still in a good mood the next day, even when Cassian cornered him and had for some cauldron-blessed reason decided that…Azriel didn't even know.
The only thing he did know was that Cassian was really interested in the knife that he bought Mor.
"Where did you get it from?" Cassian asked him and Azriel just stared at him.
"I picked it up in a market in the Summer Court?" he answered. "I saw it and I thought Mor would like it."
It wasn't even a lie.
"It's…nice that you…thought of her," Cassian said, even when his words were in stark contrast to his facial expression.
"Cass…just spit it out," Azriel said with a sigh. "What does it matter that I bought Mor a knife?"
Why should Cassian even care? If his brother was pissed off that he gave Nesta a pair of hairpins at least that would make sense. She was his mate after all. But about Mor and a stupid knife?
"I just mean that…Mor and Emerie are really happy together," Cassian blurted out.
So what, did Cassian think that Azriel was trying to steal Mor from her girlfriend?
But as he looked at his brother, he realised that that was probably exactly what Cassian was thinking.
"Yeah, they are," Azriel agreed. Cassian stared at him like he had gone insane. "Cassian, whatever you are thinking…that's not why I bought Mor the knife," he said drily.
"Well, why did you?" Cassian challenged him.
"Because I bought Feyre paint and I got Nesta these hairpins," Azriel gave back drily. "Seemed unfair to Mor."
"Az, you hate giving people gifts," Cassian said, sounding aghast.
Yeah, he did. Or at least he hated trying to desperately come up with one and failing horribly.
But none of these things had taken any time out of his day. They had appeared before him and he had thought the recipient would like them. Maybe he should just start to stockpile gifts away over the whole year for solstice. Why hadn't he come up with that decades prior?
"Yes, I do," he agreed, "but I just across them," he said with a shrug. "Don't worry I'll bring you back something next time if you feel like I am neglecting you," he teased Cassian who made a squawking sound in protest. "Maybe some flowers."
"You are an asshole," Cassian said darkly.
Azriel bit back a smile.