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."
"No it's not." The protest was barely audible. "Nyx and Estelle did it here."
"Corbin didn't," Azriel reminded him. "Corbin hasn't had his first flight yet. Maybe you should wait and do it together."
"I have to do it now," Lysander insisted.
Azriel watched him curiously, but Lysander didn't seem inclined to offer any further explanation. "All right. Go when you're ready." His son nodded and Azriel retreated a few paces.
"He's not going to do it," Estelle mumbled. "He's too scared."
"Estelle, what did I say?" Azriel snapped. "There's nothing wrong with being scared."
"But he has wings," Estelle argued. "He'll be fine. Nyx and I were." His lips pressed into a thin line and Estelle swiftly lowered her gaze. "Sorry."
Azriel turned back, mouth open to speak to Lysander, but he froze before he could utter a sound. There was no sign of the male. He sprinted to the edge of the roof and peered down. "He jumped," Azriel realized, eyes wide as he waited for Lysander to spread his wings. "I didn't even hear him."
Estelle appeared at his side. "Why hasn't he come up yet?"
Azriel's gaze darkened. Lysander's wings remained tucked close to his back. The shadows tightened around his arms suddenly. Azriel sensed their urgency without them having to speak. "Stay here," he ordered Estelle.
"Why? What's going on?"
He didn't bother to reply. Fearful and protective instincts flooded every inch of his body. Azriel leaped off the house and surged towards Lysander, moving as quickly as possible. He'd only seen this happen a few times, but enough to know what it was.
Winged Fae were susceptible to the fear of heights, and if that fear was bad enough, it could cause them to become paralyzed while in air and lock their wings into place, preventing them from flying or saving themselves. Lysander had jumped, but his fear had caught hold of him before he could open his wings.
Azriel flew faster, but the ground was fast approaching. There was no way he'd reach Lysander like this. With half a thought, he pulled the shadows around himself and emerged a few feet above his son. Not as close as he'd hoped. Lysander was falling faster than he thought! He dove the last few feet towards him. Lysander wasn't even screaming. He probably couldn't.
Azriel gave another burst of speed and snatched Lysander around the waist only moments before he would've collided with the stairs. His son threw his arms around his neck, all but strangling him as Azriel landed. He sat down immediately and attempted to loosen Lysander's hold so he could look him over, but couldn't pry his hands off.
"Are you all right?" Azriel demanded breathlessly, looking over what parts of Lysander he could see. "Are you hurt?"
His scarred hand lightly skimmed over Lysander's wings, checking them for any injuries. There were none. Lysander shuddered violently against him, still not making any sound, though tears had begun to drip down his cheeks. Azriel felt them against his neck.
He drew a shaking breath and wrapped his arms around his son, embracing him tightly. He wove his fingers through the ends of Lysander's ashen brown hair and pressed his cheek to the top of his head.
"It's all right," he murmured. "It's all right. I've got you. You're all right." Lysander's nails dug into the back of his neck and Azriel hugged him tighter.
A call rippled across the Bond within his chest seconds before flaming talons scraped against his mental shields. Azriel lowered them and his mate's presence swept into his mind. "What is it? What happened?" Seren's voice was taut with anxiety. "I felt your panic. Is everything all right?"
"Lys jumped but was paralyzed with fear," Azriel answered. "He couldn't open his wings. I caught him. He's safe, but terrified."
"What!" He flinched as her voice turned to a shriek. "Damn it, Azriel, I told you he wasn't ready! I told you he was scared and didn't really want to do it!"
"I know, and I told him that we could try something simpler, like one of the house balconies, but he was determined. I turned around to talk to Estelle and when I looked again, he'd already jumped."
"What's he doing now?"
"Strangling me."
"Good! If I weren't all the way in the Summer Court, I'd strangle you too!" An image flickered through his mind of Seren doing just that.
"I know, my love. It scared me too. I'm sorry." Azriel closed his eyes, stroking the Bond soothingly as he ran his fingers through Lysander's hair. His shadows had curled tightly against their son, whispering to him once more. "I promise he's safe. There's not a scratch on him. He's just scared."
"Do I need to come home?"
"If you feel like you should."
Seren didn't reply and her presence withdrew. Azriel restored his shields and turned his attention back to Lysander. "Are you all right?" He asked, lifting his head to look down at his son.
Lysander barely nodded, his lower lip trembling as he fought to dry his tears. "It's all right." Azriel brushed his thumb across his cheek, wiping some of his tears away. "It's all right to be scared. You don't have to be ashamed of it."
Lysander swiped a palm across his cheek with a sniff. "Estelle said I couldn't do it and she was right." His words shook with choked sobs. "She said I was too afraid."
"Estelle was teasing you," Azriel replied. "And it wasn't very nice of her. Mama and I will talk to her about it."
Lysander's voice fell to a whisper. "Mama didn't think I could do it either."
"Mama thought you didn't feel ready to do it," Azriel corrected, "not that you couldn't. And you know what?" Lysander didn't reply. "Estelle was scared when she did it too. She made Nyx hold her hand when she jumped, and she refused to let go of him even after they were flying."
"Then why did she make fun of me?"
Azriel thought for a moment. "Maybe she was secretly afraid that you felt the same way she did and she was trying to convince you to wait until you felt more ready. There was a much better way to go about it, but I suppose teasing was the first thing that came to her mind."
"It made me feel worse."
"I know. I'm sorry." He remembered all too well the teasing he'd received too. All of the comments about how weak he was. How scrawny and pathetic. How he'd never get himself off the ground. How he'd be as worthless as a clipped female.
Azriel pressed his nose to Lysander's hair, breathing in his scent. "I was made fun of too," he said. "And it made me doubt myself to the point where I almost decided I didn't want to fly. I had to learn to have patience with myself and move at my own pace. I knew when I was ready and when I wasn't. You need to have patience with yourself too."
"But I know I'm ready to fly!"
"But are you ready to fly from the roof of the House of Wind?" Lysander didn't reply. "It's all right if your first flight is different than Estelle's. That doesn't make her better than you, or you any worse than her. And it's all right to be scared. It's all right to recognize your limits and do only what you're comfortable with, not what everyone else is doing. Think about it. What would you be comfortable flying off of?"
Lysander was silent for several moments, before hesitantly answering, "Maybe the River Estate?"
Azriel nodded approvingly. "Do you want to try it? Rhys and Feyre won't object."
Lysander nodded. "But not right now," he added faintly. "I don't want to fly right now."
"All right. Not until you're ready," Azriel promised. "Are you ready to go back up and get Estelle?" Lysander shook his head and tightened his arms around him once more. "We'll wait a few more minutes then."
Lysander swallowed hard. "Take a breath. Slowly, in through your nose, out through your mouth." He obeyed, though his breath still wavered. "You're safe," Azriel reassured him. "I've got you." Lysander nodded, taking a few more breaths, and Azriel simply held his son a little tighter.