The fire crackled low in the hearth, shadows dancing across the walls of the House of Wind. The Inner Circle had gone out for the evening, leaving you and Azriel alone in the quiet space. The usual noise of Cassian's booming laughter and Mor's teasing remarks had been replaced with a soft, comfortable silence.

Neither of you spoke much in public. It wasn’t shyness, exactly — just a mutual preference for silence over mindless chatter. But as the months passed, those shared silences started to feel... comforting. Familiar.

It was in the quiet moments that things began to change. Late nights lingering in the kitchen after everyone else had gone to bed. Small exchanges — a book passed from one hand to another, a quiet "be careful" before a mission. His shadows seemed to linger longer when they coiled around you, brushing softly against your fingers when no one was looking.

In public, nothing really changed. The Inner Circle still saw you both as quiet and distant — two reserved shadows standing at the edges of the room. But behind closed doors, he was different.

He’d sneak into your room at night, silently slipping beneath the blankets and wrapping his wings around you like a protective cocoon. He didn’t need to say much; his hand brushing your hair from your face, his thumb tracing circles on your wrist — those gestures spoke louder than words ever could.

"You're warm," he'd murmur against your skin on especially cold nights, pulling you closer. And you'd smile, fingers brushing along the scarred skin of his hands, knowing that somehow, this quiet affection meant more than any grand declaration ever would.

The Inner Circle never suspected much, though Cassian swore he caught Azriel smiling once — a rare, fleeting thing.

But that night, when Azriel returned to your room and curled beside you, he smiled again — small and soft — because when you kissed him goodnight, he knew he didn’t have to hide that sweetness anymore. The fire crackled low in the hearth, shadows dancing across the walls of the House of Wind.