Beyond the Books

Individual Paces

Characters: Azriel and Lysander
Book: This story does not take place in any of my fanfictions
It is mentioned in Chapter 54 of "A Court of Wings and Fate" and in Chapter 30 of "A Court of Stars and Memories".

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Azriel stood at the edge of the roof of the House of Wind, overlooking the flight of 10,000 stairs below. A small winged boy hovered at his side, nervously assessing the height as well. Lysander had been begging for an actual flying lesson for weeks, though it seemed he was having some doubts now that the day had finally come.

Azriel couldn't blame him. His first flight had been nerve-racking too, and he'd been several years older than Lysander. His son was better prepared, however. They'd been taking things slow, gradually working Lysander up to this point. Azriel had prepared Estelle the same way before teaching her to fly.

They'd been doing stretches and exercises to strengthen Lysander's large wings ever since he was able to consciously move them. When he was six years old, Azriel had allowed him to practice balancing and hovering in the safety of the grounds of their house.

At seven, Lysander could fly short distances and hold himself off the ground for an extended period of time. Now, he was eight years old, a bit young for most winged Fae's first true flight, but he claimed he felt ready and physically speaking, his wings and muscles were developed enough that Azriel didn't worry in that regard.

Lysander had chosen the House of Wind as the sight of his flight because it was where his sister had taken hers as well. "Come on, Lys. You're taking forever," Estelle groaned behind them.

Azriel flashed his daughter a scolding look. "He'll go when he's ready. You don't need to speak unless you have advice or encouragement to offer." Estelle crossed her arms, her lips curving into a pout as shadows draped around her pointed ears.

Azriel turned away and crouched beside Lysander, resting a hand in the center of his back. "We can go somewhere else if you want. You can try from one of the balconies at home."

"No, I want to do it here," Lysander protested, still eyeing the stairs. There was a glimmer of anxiety in his hazel-green gaze.

"But you don't have to," Azriel reminded him gently. "I didn't even jump off something the first time I flew. Your uncles picked me up and threw me in the air without a word of warning."

A hesitant smile tugged at the corners of Lysander's mouth. "They did not. You wouldn't have let them."

"Yes they did. They used to be a lot stronger than me."

Sometimes he still saw that gangly, malnourished child when he looked in the mirror. That boy who'd spent so long in the darkness that he'd cried the first time he saw daylight because it burned his eyes.

Those arms and legs that had been so long and thin and weak that he'd thought there was no way he'd ever be able to hold his own against the males he trained with. Those wings that had been so large but so underused that he'd had to train rigorously for months on end before he could even lift himself off the ground.

"You're much stronger than I was at your age," Azriel added. Lysander faced him finally. Though he was trying to hide it, Azriel saw the fear lurking within his features.

His own shadows drifted over to Lysander and nestled around his shoulders, whispering soft encouragement. "Our wings were the same size though." Lysander smiled, then looked back at the stairs. "It's all right if you want to start somewhere else."