If we never experience the chill of a dark winter, 

It is very unlikely that we will ever cherish the warmth of a bright summer's day.

---

Far into the horizon, the sun began to rise, radiating gold and somehow emanating a heavenly glow across the entirety of Velaris. Sparks of light danced off the Sidra and around the people of the night court. He watched from afar, from deep in the confines and darkness of his own room as the city slowly awoke with the sun, bursting into life along with the early light of morning. Clouds rolled over the mountains, not those dark grey heavy things that made him feel claustrophobic in the darkened days, but the light fluffy white that sparked that ounce of joy as they shimmered along with the snow capped hills in the distance.

The start of spring, Azriel realised with little to no satisfaction. Though he couldn't complain, it was hard to with the beauty that blossomed day by day as the season wore on. Flowers and trees alike bursting into a sudden bloom of pinks and blues and yellows and other arrays of dazzling colours he found almost hypnotising. It was quite pretty really, how people- people like Elain- could manipulate the season into something so beautiful.

Manipulate. A perfect word to associate something that linked the gentlness of spring to someone as down-right fucking unbearable as Tamlin. Though notably most of their court strayed from that line of thought more often than not these days. Recovery from the war had been difficult on everyone, and no one especially Feyre wanted to mention anything of the sort. It often brought trouble. Trouble and unnecessary guilt and arguments that just weren't typically warranted.

There was something so serene about waking up with the sun, the symbolism behind a day yet to begin. A reminder, Azriel supposed, that they had all lived, all survived. Azriel had woken up thanking the Cauldron almost every day even if it had almost been the cause of their downfall.

The cold bite of the fresh early morning whisked around his room through the crack in his window as he lay back on his bed, one arm tucked gently behind him, pillowing his head as he overlooked his city. His home. It was nice, peaceful, and brought that small slither of hope that awoke with the light of the day. But mostly because it was quiet.

And it was quiet because Cassian was a lazy brute that overslept a lot more often than was strictly necessary. The insufferable pair had both returned from the Steppes several nights ago and were perfectly content with driving each other- as well as everyone else in a fifty mile radius- absolutely crazy.

It was mornings like this that Azriel couldn't help but treasure the moments he spent alone with the rising sun. Cherished them. Let them drive away the nightmares of a cold dark basement that threatened to often drive him off the brink of sanity. It seemed to be the only thing that helped catch that breath that kept him tied to his life like a thin, invisible thread anchoring him to the world.

A soft knock at his door shook him from his thoughts, shadows licking at his skin as he pulled himself from his bed to answer the door, shaking off the pins and needles that had bit at his arm from resting his head on it for far too long.

"Good morning." The soft voice of Elain was welcoming in the serenity of his morning. Azriel gave a slight smile as he nodded his head in greeting.

It'd taken months, but the red blotches of tear-stained cheeks had been replaced by that soft, creamy complexion from before the war. Before she was fae. Even her hair seemed those few shades lighter than the deep, stressed hue that had clung to it. "Breakfast won't be long. I'm sorry its early, but Rhysand and Cassian are leaving soon-"

"It's fine. Thank you, Elain." She disappeared down the corridor without another word, step by step closer towards Lucien, who was waiting with an extended hand at the end of the hall.

It was another thing that had been ironically blooming since the war had ended. Azriel had been thankful that Elain had finally allowed herself any essence of happiness in her new life, that she was settling in. Lucien had been perfectly willing to wait for her even admittedly with bated breath. Though Azriel along with every other member of their Inner Circle had sensed the relief that had stained the room with an odd stench on the day that Elain had taken him aside. It didn't take his shadows to find out what had happened. A perfectly nosey Mor that had kept her ear against the library door the whole conversation had done a pretty spectacular job at that. Azriel was happy for them both. Truly happy.

Yet still, there was a small voice that nagged selfishly- no matter how much he tried to shove it deep in the confines of his mind, lock it away and throw the key into the Sidra- reminding him that everyone around him was gradually being pulled to their mate.

Then there was that other, more viscous voice that impossibly reminded him of his father, that told him day after solitary, lonely, isolated day that perhaps he never deserved one in the first place. It's why he had found it so easy to love Mor. It was easy to accept that she would never love him back, instead of falling in love for someone that would change their mind from love to dislike over time. Still, there was always that sick, consuming feeling of abandonment and rejection that he wanted so badly to blame on his family.

Never-the-less, as he joined his family in the dining hall, he was filled with that brief happiness as he watched Elain settle her hand on Lucien's as she served him a plate of various cheeses, meats and breads. It was quickly replaced with the annoyance that often made an appearance when Cassian and Nesta were situated in the same room for more than a few moments.

"I cannot wait to get out of this damned house. It's making me antsy." Cassian remarked before dropping his fork dramatically, scrubbing at his chin in thought. "Wait- no I think it might just be Nesta's company." He turned pointedly towards the sharp, pale faced woman sitting opposite him, who stubbornly didn't remove her eyes from their set place on the plate in front of her.

Feyre was already sinking deeper into her seat, like she was willing herself to be anywhere but there at that moment, as was pretty much everyone else with exception of Rhysand, who was looking like he was enjoying himself far too much for his own good. Azriel himself would have appreciated it most if the floor had just opened up and swallowed him whole.

"Perhaps Helion will do us all a favour and keep you. We don't want you. Just as the family you had before. Though I'd hardly call this sorry excuse a family either." Nesta quipped back, Cassian instantly tensed in his seat. Even Rhys' hand had tightened around his cutlery, the knife bending backwards with the force.

Azriel hated breakfast.

No, that was rude of him. Nuala, Cerridwen and Elain had cooked up a delicious selection of foods on a daily basis that he often enjoyed thoroughly.

No, Azriel hated having to eat on the same table as Cassian and Nesta who often put him in a mood so foul he found himself unable to eat. More specifically, he found Nesta almost intolerable, just as most people, though still found himself not wanting her isolated in blame.

"So..." Lucien attempted to break either the tension or the death glare Nesta was doing an impeccable job at ignoring. "What business do you have at the day court?"

Cassian's mood snapped back into joyful instantaneously, too quickly to convince Azriel that he'd gotten over that particular bite. He'd always been too good at that. "Helion doesn't like being away from me for too long. He mentioned something about this sweet ass?" He winked at Elain who blushed profusely at the turn in conversation, ducking her head down so her hair veiled over her face in hiding.

"We've agreed on a biannual meeting with every court. It's our way of trying to keep the peace." Rhys missed out the little bit of information that included one High Lord in particular that had yet to respond, his shadows were quick to remind him. But Azriel kept his mouth shut, just as he often did.

"Azriel are you not going?" Feyre asked simply from the end of the table, though she likely already knew the answer if her pushing food around her plate, feigning interest was anything to go by.

Something inside him yearned to go. Not only to spend some quality time with his brothers which alone would've been the highlight of his week. No, Azriel dreamed of the power of the light in the Day Court. He thought the mornings were magical here so naturally couldn't even begin to fathom what it would be like in that court.

But, no. Azriel was not naturally a selfish creature. As a matter of fact, it had been his idea to get Cassian out of their borders to begin with. It'd be good for him... healthy even to spend time away. To take that well earned breath Azriel knew for a fact he hadn't taken since the war.

"I have work to do here." He said by means of answering. Which was true, but he didn't say it had a deadline. Was that lying by omission? Perhaps.

"You work too hard." Elain spoke from beside him.

She'd told him that often when he'd watch her attend to her garden. It was odd, taking advice from Elain, young and yet still so wise. They'd had many heart to hearts, so many in fact they'd grown comfortable in each other's presence. Enough for Elain to tell him over and over to take a break and travel around Prythian. A well earned break according to her. She'd even gone so far as to say it might give him a better chance at finding his mate. Azriel had been quick to quip that that was if he was destined to have one at all. Elain... Young. Wise. And perhaps even a little naive.

"When do you leave?" Mor stepped in, following in Lucien and Feyre's direction of thought. To stop Cassian and Nesta having any opportunity at conversing.

"Within the hour." Rhysand stated, fruitlessly trying to reshape his knife as Fyre rubbed soothing circles over his knees. "We'll be back before sunset tomorrow."

Just under two days. Azriel found himself in silent rejoice of a quiet peace that promised to settle over his weekend. He had a few incidents to look over in an Illyrian camp not too far but then... a day to himself sounded a little optimistic. Training with Mor sounded a bit more promising. He might even try to persuade Feyre into practicing with her wings. That usually gave him a few chuckles, especially when she somehow finds herself tangled, limbs hanging around branches of a tree.

Well... now that was something he could look forward to.

---

It'd taken barely even an hour to cross into the border of the Day Court and if Cassian had thought the morning had looked beautiful over the Sidra... There was no comparison. He'd tried to remember the last time he'd had the honour of being on Helion's turf to no avail. There would be no forgetting it, he realised.

The sky had lost the orange tint of the morning and replaced by an astonishing blue of the awaiting day, the kind of shade that against his will reminded him of a certain dress he favoured on a woman, fae- whatever she called herself these days- would wear. It caused a sourness to bite at his face, at his chest no matter how much he'd tried to rid it to the back of his mind all morning. Rhysand had been pitifully quiet the whole journey as if he was letting it stir with Cassian. To wait to see if he spoke. He wouldn't, he reminded himself.

The tightness of his Illyrian leathers had his muscles sore, but he was thankful for the warmth it kept no matter how far he flew. And there was still that incessant twitch in the bottom of his right wing, a phantom of those gaping tears that had been sewn back together. Cassian stretched his wings, still shaking off the sleep and deep ache even after they landed at the foot of the palace. The stretching, marble palace that glistened ethereally in the light.

"General if you keep your jaw open any longer I'm going to have to hire someone to mop away your drool."

"Helion." Rhysand greeted, bowing his head lightly before smirking, matching that of the High Lord of Day. "Always a pleasure."

Cassian debated matching the polite bow, but arrogantly decided against, lest he crack his back into a funny angle or inflate the High Lord's ego any larger than absolutely necessary. His mouth finally snapping shut, saluting in the way he learned, mimicking the way the other Illyrians had from a young age.

"Please." He tutted, angling his face towards the General. "The pleasure is all mine." The hearty banta, perhaps even mildly flirtatious wink was already helping him overcome his awful mood.

It's what he needed, Rhys had told him. A day away from being a leader of armies. The leader of a people. A day away from that feeling of responsibility over a female that kept trying to push him past his limit. Pushing him towards that ancient fury he'd only ever had the misfortune of feeling a limited amount of times in the entirety of his existence.

She hadn't so much as uttered a goodbye that morning. Cassian didn't particularly expect her to, neither did he want to see her after that harsh retort about his family. Nesta was a wicked, wicked thing at the best of times but recently she'd been- how to put lightly?- unbearable. Outright unbearable. The worst part, he'd blamed himself. For weeks on end he'd blamed himself for her not being able to trust him, any of them, enough to help her get through this.

Inwardly chiding himself, he couldn't even keep his mind far from her now.

He shook his head and smirked back at Helion. It was the only response he was going to get until he found his mouth and mind somewhere stable.

"I had presumed it'd just be the three of us attending this meeting." Rhysand picked up conversely, clearly hearing a conversation and a mind whirring that Cassian couldn't. It didn't bother him anymore like it used to, in fact he didn't know whether to be worried about becoming accustomed to it or not.

"Yes... well," Helion began, turning and leading the triad inside to the main entrance hall, golden gown flowing gracefully behind him like molten metal. "She insisted." He laughed to himself. An inside joke. Cassian didn't have to be a mind reader to figure that out.

"She has a name Helion."

A gentle voice called from the top of the stairway.

There had been no plan whatsoever in Cassian's mind to try and sort out the emotions he was dealing with. No plan in trying to tame Nesta at all after those first useless months at the Steppes in which she had made a conscious effort to ignore him for as long as possible.

There had been more males, a new one every couple of nights if the smell was anything to go by when he had stopped by one, late winters, morning to check in on her. He hadn't thought it absolutely necessary but had presumed it would give him some sense of comfort, knowing that she was healing. She hadn't been. That particular argument had been brutal and he'd been so furious, one last nerve keeping him from tearing his way through the camp. Through those horny Illyrian brutes that had touched her.

"Cassian, I'd like to introduce you to Helion's Third, and his personal seer." Rhysand turned, arm drifting towards her direction. It didn't matter, Cassian had already been looking. Staring perhaps.

Because in that second... That one irrational- he'd argue brilliant- second... he saw a way of fixing all of the problems he had instead of blatantly ignoring them just as he did every other day.

This tan skinned seer with eyes of chocolaty caramel had his mind spinning at millions of miles a second. His whole idea unfolding before his eyes even as he remained silent, he was picturing it. If having sex with other people worked for Nesta fine. If she wanted him to not care that much...

Well... he could at least pretend he didn't.

Rhysands subtle elbow to his ribcage was clear enough evidence that he was being far too plain, his plot being so obviously written across his face, maybe he was even thinking too loudly. It didn't matter.

"Tahlia."

And as her eyes finally met his and smiled something so bright and beautiful...

He realised she might just save him.