There once lived a female who put others above herself, she felt it was the only way to truly be loved.
There once lived a male who thought he was alone, he felt undeserving of all the wonderful things life had to offer.
Their story was written in...
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The history books don't mention how you can almost taste the tension in the air before battle. Not only can I feel it in the air all around me. But it almost makes the field around me hum. The anticipation and dread mix to form a bitter yet intoxicating cocktail.
There were moments back on earth when I was going through my day-to-day life that it felt easy to forget this part of me, the fae part of me, craved battle. My hands would be used for things other than carrying a sword and ending life. But I know deep within me that I would miss this if it ended.
My slate gray leathers form to my skin like a glove, well worn and loved. Firm and unyielding to protect me from harm, but still easy to maneuver in. My weapons are laid out neatly on the table before me as I strap them to me individually.
I can feel Azriel in the room next to me, but I get lost in the repetitive motions. It has always been a way to soothe the growing ball of anxiety in the bit of my stomach. My fingers move nimbly around my arms, legs, and torso checking and rechecking.
Lastly, I reach for Oath-Maker, but the familiar scarred hands of my mate softly take it from my grasp. His wings spread slightly as he falls to his knees before me. With practiced grace, he lifts my leg and slides the holster up my thigh. He secures it in place with one last tug before rising.
No words are exchanged, and none need to be. His hands slide up my arms, tracing my shoulders before resting on either side of my neck. I hum happily as his fingers trace small circles against my flushed skin.
Our foreheads rest against each other for a moment before we separate. One hand rests against the necklace he gave me all those weeks ago while the other pulls me against his firm chest.
"I love you," I whisper.
"And I love you" His voice is thick before he clears it, kissing my brow softly.
I tightly grasp his hand, giving it three squeezes as we leave the tent. We find my sisters, Gemma, Scottie, Alistor, and Rocco, waiting with the Inner Circle. Elain and Nesta are secured off to the side while they wait to be taken to high ground.
My family and I don't say a word; we just nod and put our comms in. Aurda and I ensure the comms are clear before I hand an earpiece to Mor and Feyre.
