A Court of Light and Darkness

Nine: Freesia

            The sun filtered into the room as it rose over the mountains, shining into Freesia's face to wake her. She stirred, taking in her surroundings as memories from last night ran through her head. 

Azriel's arms were still tightly wrapped around her waist, his wings draped over them in a cocoon of protection and warmth. She smiled up at the black surface, the strong lines of bone setting the structure.

Freesia turned her body towards the sleeping male behind her, careful not to wake him. His eyes remained closed as she scanned over his features. He had discarded his shirt sometime through the night but still remained in the black pants from the evening before.

His face was limp and relaxed, a small smile on his lips. Freesia couldn't help but bring her hand up to his lips, tracing the soft edge. His nose crinkled at the contact and his eyes fluttered open to meet hers.

His smile grew as he took her in, gaining a smile from her in return. 

"Good morning, Freesia." Her name rolling off his tongue made her skin heat.

"Good morning, Az." She replied, taking her hand from his face.

Azriel gripped her wrist gently before she pulled her finger back down to the bed, placing them onto his cheek. She started rubbing soft circles onto his skin as his eyes closed. 

"Can't we just stay here forever?" Freesia whispered. "In this warmth and happiness? I'm content right here, with you." She leaned closer to Azriel, pressing her nose against his as she breathed in his scent.

"I am too." Azriel breathed, placing his big hand over her cheek. "I wish we could lay in this bed for the rest of eternity. But-" 

"Don't say it." Freesia cut him off. "Not yet. Let me relish in this moment for a little longer. Please."

Azriel didn't reply. He only scooted closer to Freesia's body, savoring their time together as much as she was.

-------------------------------------

They had dragged themselves out of bed, finally, after Azriel had brought up starting to train that day. The excitement that coursed through Freesia was ecstatic as she hurried to pull on her leathers and yank her thin hair into a pony tail.

The Shadowsinger was waiting for her outside her door, wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a black tunic, unbuttoned at the top to show off his collar bones and the tattoos shooting up his skin towards his neck.

He led her down the hall, stopping in the kitchen to say goodbye to Cassian, who was on his way out the door to grab Nesta and go to the Illyrian Camps for a few months. 

Freesia felt a twinge of guilt shoot through her stomach as she thought about how she never went to visit Nesta in the two weeks shes been here. 

The first time Freesia had met Nesta, she had felt the power that filtered around the closed off female. She had looked into her eyes and seen the same expression that looked back at Freesia in the mirror everyday.

Nesta and her were the same. Even as Nesta did not show her grief in the same manner as Freesia, choosing to block out everyone closest to her and forget who she was and what she had gone through. 

She had to talk to her. Even if it meant going to the Illyrian Camp in those mountains once she was settled there.

After Cassian had left, Azriel and Freesia continued through the many hallways lining the House of Wind. They reached the door on the far side of the house, opening it to reveal the back side of the house, where sparring mats, racks with blades of many shapes and sizes, and tables of bows and arrows with targets in the distance laid.

Her excited grew as she beheld the archery area of the space. She was excellent at wielding a bow and arrow when she was sixteen. She also excelled in knife throwing and hand to hand combat. The only thing she struggled with during her training was swords play.

She could never figure out how to go for her opponent without leaving her left side exposed. She would get close to her trainer, the general of the Autumn Court army, with the tip of her sword grazing his side. Before he would smack down on her left hip with the hilt of his blade, causing her to drop to her knees with agonizing pain lacing up her side.

Azriel caught her longing gaze at the archery stand and smiled, leading her towards the table. She grabbed the first one she could reach, scanning over the shiny black wood, running her finger over the thick string lining the weapon. 

Azriel handed her an arrow, a deep red color all over with black feathers at the end. Freesia took the arrow from his hands, fingering the object.

Stepping up in front of the target, Freesia knocked the arrow into the bow, taking a deep breath and pulling the bow and arrow up to aim at the bullseye. 

One breath...

Another breath...

Two more breaths and Freesia was still frozen in place, eyes locked on the center of the target, arrow brushing her cheek, ready to be released.

"The first trick to hitting the bullseye, is to know you are going to hit it. Never doubt yourself, Carino. You are strong. Say it." Freesia's mother whispered into her ear as she stared at the target in front of her. The General was off to the side, watching as Freesia readied herself to release the arrow.

"I am strong. I am going to hit the bullseye." Freesia whispered to her mother, to herself. 

Freesia let go of the arrow, watching as it cut through the air so fast she could barley see it. Next thing she knew, she was staring at the target in front of her, with an arrow in the center of the bullseye.

"I told you, Carino. It is all in the way you hold yourself. The way you see yourself. Never see yourself as weak, or you will become weak." Freesia turned to her mother, smiling proudly at her work and hugged her tightly. 

Freesia was still standing still, frozen in her stance, unable to release the arrow locked in her fingers.

The memory had hit her too hard, so fast it knocked the air out of her lungs. She couldn't breath. Couldn't move. Couldn't see. She was useless. A useless, no good, weak female that lost her mother and was locked away for five centuries because she was too much of a coward to fight back when he took her.

She was a fool to ever think she was anything other then a mouse, being chased by a cat that liked to play with it's food. 

Freesia crumbled, caving in on herself as her knees hit the floor, the bow and arrow clanking to the ground beside her.

Azriel was there as her forehead touched the surface, her fingers intertwined into her hair.

She was a fool. She was afraid. She was weak.

You are not weak. You are strong. You can do this.  A voice rang through her mind, stopping her sobs long enough for Azriel to lift her face to his, making her look him in the eyes.

"I believe in you. She believed in you. You can do this. Don't let the sorrow and hurt drag you down again." Azriel's stare was heavy on Freesia as she stared back, silver lining her eyes. He had brought her back. Dragged her from her most inner part of herself.

"Maybe- maybe we should start with hand to hand today." Freesia said, her voice shaking. 

"We don't have to do this today, Freesia. Whenever you're ready." Azriel whispered, rubbing circles on her back as she still sat on the ground. 

"No. I need to start today. Some sort of schedule would keep my mind off- I don't know. Myself?" Freesia laughed, a breathy sound that didn't quite leave her mouth.

Azriel smiled, the act not reaching his eyes, and held his hands out to help her up.

"How about we start with strength training. Get that muscle you talk so highly of back." Freesia jumped up to her feet, her hands still in Azriel's. She looked up into his eyes, full of excitement that mimicked her own. For the first time in five hundred years, she felt pure and utter hope for the future she could now see.