Azriel and Mor babysit Feyre and Rhys’ young daughter so the two of them can have a little time to themselves. She ends up taking quite a strong liking to Az. Fluff, pure fluff.
The moment she slips into Azriel’s arms again she pillows her head calmly against his chest and settles completely, gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes.
Mor grins.
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“Be good for Aunt Mor, okay?” Feyre says, dipping forwards to kiss her daughter’s forehead.
“Does she understand the concept of ‘good’ yet?” Mor chirps conversationally. Tilting her body she shifts in place and adjusts Vala in her arms to allow Rhys to kiss her goodbye as well.
“Why don’t you debate that with her this evening over some fine wine, Mor?” Rhys drawls. The soft smile on his lips is very patently for his daughter; the words dripping with sarcasm very obviously for her.
Irritated by the baby balanced in her arms and her resulting lack of free hands with which to offer her cousin some obscene gesture, she makes do with snapping at him. “Why don’t you take a long walk off a very short balcony. Without wings. You sardonic pri-“
“We,” Feyre interrupts pointedly as Rhys starts smirking in a way that would have forced Mor to hand Vala back to her mother so she could do something about it, “Are leaving,” she announces. Grabbing her still obnoxiously smiling mate by his upper arm she begins to firmly drag him away from Mor before serious damage is done to his pretty face. “Now,” she adds in a slightly threatening growl as Rhys looks more than ready to continue bickering.
“Thank you for this, Mor!” Feyre calls over her shoulder as she frog-marches Rhys to the door at the other end of the corridor. “And you Az,” she adds with a smile and a wave -both hello and goodbye- tossed in the shadowsinger’s direction as he drifts serenely down the stairs to see what all the fuss is about in the hall.
Mor lifts Vala’s little hand with her first two fingers and has her wave goodbye to her parents while Az presses quiet kiss to her temple. His eyes fix on the baby in her arms with an air that suggests he’s seriously considering the possibility she might suddenly explode at any moment.
“I’m going to the roof to train for a little while,” he murmurs quietly into her hair, his voice smooth and cool as ever.
She nods, softly kissing the top of Vala’s head, “We’ll be fine,” she says, shooing her partner upstairs, suppressing her eye rolling with difficulty as she does so. “I’ll give you a shout if we need anything.” Az nods his agreement then retreats silently back the way he had come leaving Mor to take Vala into the living room alone.
It’s not surprising. He does this every time they babysit for anyone. She knows that he’s more uncomfortable than the rest of them around any of the children, even if he secretly dotes on them, and she’s never pushed him into keeping her company unless she’s overwhelmed on her own. Which doesn’t happen often; usually only when the twins are staying with them. Two years older than Vala and already holy terrors in their own right. She chuckles to herself at the thought.
She and Vala have a nice afternoon that involves nothing more strenuous for Mor than setting her on her knee, holding her hands and bouncing her up and down until she giggles. “Your parents are going to have so much fun when you start flying,” she teases as her small wings furl and unfurl excitedly.
After an hour or so a servant interrupts politely to ask Mor if she could deal with something that’s arisen from some Court of Nightmares emissaries staying with them. Nodding, Mor apologises to Vala before gently popping her into the cot in front of the large floor to ceiling windows. Then she turns and hollers up the stairs for Azriel.
He appears in moments and she stands on her toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek and give him her most winning smile, which immediately makes him look nervous. As it should. Normally. “Would you keep an eye on her for me?” she asks him, nuzzling affectionately against his taut chest. “I have to deal with the idiots from the Court of Nightmares. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes or so.”
Azriel frowns at this. Mor sighs.
“She’s a baby not a bogge, Az,” she reminds him, thinking that he’d probably rather tackle the latter on his own. She keeps that to herself however, looking beseechingly up at him.
“Are you sure?” he deadpans, looking down at her, hazel eyes glittering.
Mor beams and presses a hasty kiss to his lips that catches more cheek than mouth in her hurry as she darts for the door. “I won’t be long, thanks!” she’s calling over her shoulder at him, without him ever having quite agreed to this plan of hers.
Then she winnows from the house and Az sighs; though he’s unable to entirely banish the small, affectionate smile that tugs at the corner of his lips in response to her.
Padding into the room he gathers up the toys strewn around the room from earlier, wondering both how they ended up with so many and also how Mor had managed to scatter them so widely around the room in such a short space of time. He shakes his head slightly as he fishes one out from underneath the breakfast table, eyes twinkling at the whirlwind that is his Morrigan as he does so.
He’s just setting everything back into the box in the corner when Vala starts crying. Wincing at the sound he pads tentatively towards her cot, her wails increasing in volume with every moment. Crouching down he gently rubs her tummy with his hand to soothe her, trying not to cringe at the sight of the twisted, burned flesh touching the young child.
Gentle hushing has no effect on her whatsoever and when her cries could more accurately be described as howling Azriel finally decides there’s nothing else for it. Standing he tentatively reaches down into the crib and scoops her up into his arms. He’s held her before, naturally – neither Mor nor Feyre gave him any choice in the matter when she was born and continued to coax him into it afterwards – but it still feels...wrong somehow.
His rough, scarred hands, hard with the calluses from his training are stained with more blood than he cares to remember. They were shaped to hold blades and handle the violent killing power that burns in his blue siphons, not children. He’s never been entirely comfortable with something so small and precious and fragile entrusted to his battered arms. Morrigan was one thing, but the little one...
Slowly, he starts bouncing Vala in his arms, the way Mor does to get her to quiet down and this plus the fact that he’s holding her close to him seems to help. She still sniffles faintly but she’s stopped screaming as though she’s trying to bring the place down at least. After a few minutes of gentle rocking and soothing murmuring she settles against his broad chest.
“You were just being dramatic because you wanted some attention, weren’t you, little one?” Azriel muses quietly to her. Mor, he’s noted, seems to talk away to her all the time, something she appears to like. “That’s your father’s fault,” he informs her placidly.
A broad smile spreads across her face as though she’s understood what he’s said and Az can’t help his own smile at the sight of it. She bats happily at his cheek, searching and grabbing at every bit of him she can reach from his arms. Then her little fingers start to grab at his wings and he tenses, blinking down at her.
“No, no,” he says in alarm as one small hand grips tightly onto the hooked, pointed talon at the crest of his wing and the other just grabs at whatever other part of it she can reach. “That’s not, no, Vala, please-“ he tries hopelessly.
Prising her grip off of him gently while still keeping one arm locked tightly around her proves to be near impossible. He wonders vaguely if all children her age have such stubborn, iron grips or if this is a trait she can thank her mother for. “Vala-“ he pleads hopelessly as her small, sharp nails bite into a sensitive spot of the membrane of his wing.
A low, throaty chuckle interrupts his helpless floundering and he looks up to see Mor leaning artfully against one of the broad wooden pillars in the room. He’s never seen anything more beautiful in his entire life.
“She’s one, Az,” she smirks at him, seeming to find his current predicament immensely amusing. “You can’t reason with her.”
“Would you please-“ He gestures mutely for her to take Vala back and somehow have her release her hold on him.
Still laughing, her warm eyes dancing with merriment, Mor steps forwards at last and obliges him. She scoops Vala smoothly into her arms, detaching her from Azriel’s wing with ease. Though evidently she can’t help herself from stroking her forefinger along the crest of his wing in a full, sweeping gesture that causes him to shudder hopelessly. “Morrigan,” he growls in warning and the grin on her face broadens, catlike and mischievous.
“Later,” she promises him, her voice suddenly a rough, rasping purr that makes him shudder worse than the feel of her hand against his wing. Her voice returns to normal as she kisses Vala’s head and chuckles, “Wait ‘til we tell Uncle Cassian that all he has to do to bring the fearsome shadowsinger to his knees is not let go of his wing.” Az shoots her a playful growl at the remark and Mor laughs again.
Vala, who had taken fairly well to being handed from one to the other of them like a solstice gift, had merely reached behind Mor to find something else to occupy herself. While being obviously displeased by her lack of wings, she soon seems to decide that grabbing fistfuls of Mor’s beautiful golden hair will do just as well. As Mor begins to carry her away from him however she starts fussing again, her large, striking violet eyes fixed on the retreating form of Azriel.
Arching an eyebrow Mor wanders experimentally back to him and Vala immediately reaches out for Az again. He blinks in surprise as she continues to squirm and fuss in Mor’s arms until she hands her over and coaxes him to take her again. The moment she slips into Azriel’s arms again she pillows her head calmly against his chest and settles completely, gazing up at him with big, innocent eyes.
Mor grins.
“No,” he protests feebly, looking from one to the other of them and knowing he’s beaten long before he gets out, “No, Mor, I don’t want-“ She pats his shoulder consolingly, ruining the effect by laughing through it.
“You can’t say no to your future High Lady, Az,” she trills, grinning broadly at him as Az blinks down at the baby nestled peacefully in his arms.
“Mor, I,” he stumbles, looking down at her again, fear gripping him as he says, “What if I drop her? What if I hurt her?” He’s being as gentle and as careful with her as he can but...
“You won’t,” Mor says, the laughter instantly easing from her voice as it drops, becoming even and soothing. “Come on,” she says, tenderly hooking her fingers between his forearm and Vala’s soft, warm body and leading him over towards the comfortable couches by the fire.
Patiently, Mor shows him different ways of holding Vala to help him become more comfortable with her and stop him worrying about dropping her or hurting her somehow. To her credit, the little one is incredibly patient with being pushed and pulled into various different positions and doesn’t seem to mind as long as Azriel is doing most of the holding. He snorts when Mor mentions he’s lucky he decided to discover this new side to him with the very placid Vala rather than the twins. Neither would have been nearly as accommodating of all this poking and prodding.
When Vala finally does seem to tire of training Azriel in how to deal with her and starts to become fussy again, Mor heads to the kitchen and brings back a bottle for him to feed her. She watches the two of them fondly as Vala sucks contentedly at the warm milk her big violet eyes blinking up at them both. Az smiles down at her the whole while, his scarred hands cradling her gently. When he looks up and catches the faint gleam in Mor’s eye he carefully slides an arm around her shoulders and gathers her in against him. With a faint, contented hum he presses a soft kiss to the top of her head.
Vala successfully keeps Az in thrall all night as each time he tries to leave her for more than a few minutes she makes her displeasure about his departure known to most of Velaris. “You’re a devious little one,” he murmurs softly to her, after the third or fourth instance of this, tickling her tummy and watching her giggle happily in his lap. “That’s Rhys’ fault too.”
Mor smirks, “What else was Rhys’ fault?” she enquires playfully. As she speaks she arches a golden eyebrow and plasters a wicked grin across her lips.
Azriel smiles faintly. “Her flare for drama and need for constant attention,” he responds simply.
Mor tips back her head and howls with laughter at that, so loudly that Vala blinks at her and nuzzles in against his chest, alarmed by this outburst. Azriel gives her a gentle nudge to coax her to stop for the baby’s sake and she desists.
“Well she’s clearly fond of you.” Mor observes, looking down at the small, placid bundle in his arms. “That level of sense clearly comes from her mother.”
Az chuckles at that and the shadows that flit around him gather around his chest at the sound.
“Do that again,” Mor says suddenly, her head tilted slightly to the side as she peers down at Vala.
“What?” Az asks, confused, not aware that he’d been doing anything more than absently rocking Vala back and forth in his arms, something that seemed to soothe her.
“With the shadows,” Mor says and he tightens at the mention but she shakes her head, “Make them gather around your chest again,” she instructs and he obliges her uncertainly. At once, one of Vala’s little hands shoots out, trying to grab them.
Blinking in pleasant surprise Az coaxes the shadows a little closer. He had deliberately kept them light, something that was never hard with Mor around, and away from Vala in case he scared her. But she seems oddly transfixed by them. Again she reaches out, trying to grab at them, her little fists closing over air.
Azriel starts to make them dart around her in little bursts and she keeps swiping for them until she’s giggling wildly and Mor is laughing beside him at the sight. Cautiously, he reaches down and brushes Vala’s soft pale skin with his shadows and her eyes go wide and her whole body stills. He repeats the gesture and she begins to laugh again as he tickles her with them.
As the evening begins to draw to a close, both Mor and Vala fall asleep on top of Azriel. Vala sprawls flat against his chest. Meanwhile Mor presses in against his side, her head tucked into the crook of his neck, her legs curled up under her as she presses in against him. Azriel smiles quietly at the sight of both of them, one hand underneath Vala to keep her supported, the other trailing absently through Morrigan’s golden curls, absently stroking them and soothing her in her sleep.
That’s the position that Feyre and Rhys find them when they knock on the door and Azriel calls for them to come in. Feyre smiles at the sight of them and hurries over to Azriel and trails her fingers through Vala’s soft, downy black hair. Mor stirs at the arrival of Feyre and Rhys and stretches away from Azriel, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smiling around at the scene.
Azriel gets carefully to his feet and very gently hands Vala to Rhys who soothes her almost instantly when she wakes in response to all of the movement around her. “That’s typical of Aunt Morrigan, isn’t it?” He murmurs to Vala, grinning at Mor over her head. “Falling asleep and leaving poor Uncle Az to do all the work and cover for her.”
Mor looses a rough growl at him and Az hastily snakes a hand around her waist, tugging her gently to his side and pressing a calming kiss to the top of her head while she glowers good naturedly at her smirking cousin.
“Was everything all right?” Feyre asks, looking between them, fondly stroking Vala’s cheek as she moves to stand beside Rhys.
“Everything was fine,” Azriel says smoothy, giving her a soft smile that instantly seems to settle her.
“Thank you again for having her,” she says, leaning forwards and embracing Mor then kissing Az’s cheek. They both assure them it was no problem and they’d be happy to do it again.
Once Feyre and Rhys have left the two of them tidy up then flop down onto the couch. Mor immediately settles herself in Azriel’s lap, sprawling across him as though he’s a cushion. Az waits patiently for her to make herself comfortable and then flop down against him, her smaller, more delicate form melting easily against his and throwing her arms messily around his chest.
“So,” she says, a clear smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth, “You’ll be happy to help me the next time we babysit for Feyre and Rhys?”
He smiles faintly “Feyre and Rhys?” He says, arching an eyebrow and lightly tapping her nose, “Yes,” he agrees, “Not Cassian and Nesta.” He clarifies with a shudder at the thought of facing the twins alone.
Mor laughs again and burrows affectionately in against him. “It’s okay,” she promises him, arching up to press a soft kiss to his lips, “We’ll tackle the two of them together.” Azriel just wraps his arms around her, lightly kissing the top of her head and humming contentedly, closing his eyes. He’s asleep with his arms around her in minutes.