insubordinate (gwynriel)

11

When Gwyn got back to her room, she had a pounding headache. She was just excited to just get in bed and make it as dark as possible and mope in peace. She was so intent on it that she nearly missed the envelope on the floor like it had been slid underneath her door by the giver. Gwyn's heart stuttered.

She picked up the dark blue envelope, turning it in her hands like a foreign specimen. She'd never received mail before, so she knew where it had to be from. Her name was neatly inked on the outside, with nothing more. She swallowed, walking to her bed and sitting down. She stared at the envelope like it might jump out and bite. She wasn't sure she was really ready for the contents.

Azriel had just looked so... conflicted when she'd confessed how she was feeling about him and their situation. She would give anything to rewind and just tell herself to shut up. There was nothing that felt more personal or painful than rejection in a moment of vulnerability. She'd nearly convinced herself he must have been feeling the same way, which was far-fetched by all standards. Azriel was a high ranking- like the highest there was- Illyrian warrior and best friend to the High Lord. Gwyn was just a Priestess, and even then, she was only there because bad things had happened to her. Not because she deserved something.

With a growl of frustration, her curiosity finally won the battle against her will, and she picked up the envelope and carefully opened it. She would never admit to smelling the paper, but she had been briefly curious if it would smell like him. It did. Which only made this worse. Had she really become so desperate that she smelled a letter?

She pulled the paper from its sleeve and read the contents.

Gwyn,

I figured you would want some space, so I settled for leaving you this instead. While I'd anticipated the conversation, you had just caught me a little off-guard. I'm not always the best with words, as I'm sure you've come to know. I still have a lot of things I would like to tell you if you are willing to hear them. I'll wait for you tonight by the hearth inside the House. If you don't come, I'll understand. If you want nothing more to do with me, I will leave you be. But know that I'll be waiting.

With affection,

Az

Gwyn felt like she was going to be sick. She'd been crying so long she didn't even know when he might have sent the letter. It was dark outside by now. Was he already there waiting for her? Surely, he wouldn't invite her there to hurt her more?

Gods, it was all too much. I mean, had he truly expected her to be capable of letting him be her first, even holding her until she fell asleep after, and not develop something more than physical attraction to him?

She growled, standing and hurriedly doing everything she could to make it look like she hadn't been crying for hours. Once she looked the slightest but less pathetic, she took one last deep breath and headed for the staircase that led into the House. She could do this. She could.

She rounded the corner, silently approaching the living space that was adorned by the massive roaring hearth. The fire crackled steadily, and she could see Azriel sitting, turned towards it, but she couldn't see his face. He held a glass of something dark in his hand she could only assume was alcohol.

She walked across the room and delicately dropped into the chair beside his, only a small table separating them. She started at the orange glow of the flames and tried to gather herself. It was just a conversation. She tried to relax.

"Gwyn," he said softly, and the sound melted her iced-over heart. He sounded surprised, like he hadn't really expected her to show up. Gwyn didn't meet his eyes, and instead stared forward. She tugged her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees.