Chapter 74

She couldn't help but smile on the morning of Winter Solstice. Having had little wine the night before, she was one of the first to awaken. Arwen held Feyre's present in hand—the one for her birthday. 

Feyre and Rhysand took their time to emerge from their rooms, Arwen beginning to stare at the clock in impatience, but they weren't the last to arise. Rhysand swept her into a hug despite having seen her only hours before. She hugged him back with the same vigour also despite the fact, smiling at the Illyrian leathers he donned.

"Happy birthday, Feyre," said Arwen, handing her the small, wrapped package.

"I'm being spoilt with all these early gifts." Clawing at the packaging, Feyre revealed the thick journal within.

"It's a tracking book," Arwen explained. "The paper is thick so you can put samples of any paints you buy, test them watered down too. I thought it would come in handy."

"It's wonderful."

The three of them settled into a late breakfast, but Rhysand barely touched his before Cassian and Azriel appeared behind him. They hauled their High Lord right from his seat, the three of them giddy like children. Arwen decided to winnow after them.

She perched on the roof of the cabin, clearing a section of snow off with her magic. Drawing her knees up and pulling a thick rug around her shoulders, Arwen watched the three of them build their fortresses and prepare their ammo. She might have been warmer back at the town house. Might have had more company and a softer seat. But this had been her own tradition for two hundred and fifty years, forced along each time. Only this time, she smiled through it and sat there willingly. They were so distracted by their endeavour, that Arwen wasn't sure they even noticed her dark form against the rest of the white roof.

Their dialogue was nothing but insults and taunts, and a few shouts mixed in between. She did eventually wander into the cabin itself, making herself a tea and lighting a fire for the sake of her frozen hands. After a few hours, Mor and Feyre arrived, the latter remaining caught on the existence of the snowball fight for an hour more.

Cassian stalked inside first, trudging snow everywhere. Mor laughed as Arwen rolled her lips between her teeth. Rhysand entered behind him, sour-faced but at least taking the moment to clear his boots and dishevelled hair at the doorway.

"By the look on your faces, I guess that leaves Azriel as the victor?" Mor crooned.

Azriel entered last, a small but firm smile stuck on his cheeks. Cassian waved Mor off like he hadn't just spent the past three hours vying over that title and headed straight to the fire to heat his hands. Rhysand stuck his under his armpits.

"So nothing unusual," Arwen remarked.

Mor barked with laughter. Cassian and Rhysand scowled at her but she earnt Azriel's approving eye. A moment of shameful greed overcame her at that moment. She was in her home, with her family. Feyre was the only relatively foreign thing about, but Arwen was glad she was there, seeing the way her brother's face brightened each time she came into his view. But what she was truly greedy over was the fact that there was no Elain. No Nesta. No talks of work or politics or war or treaties. Like how it used to be. Like she could wipe the past two hundred and fifty years and it would feel like nothing has changed.

And maybe it was dangerous—to forget.

~

Arwen convinced them into a new competition. They collected coal from the fire and evenly split it amongst themselves—Mor and Feyre favouring watching from the small deck with hot drinks instead, delegated as judges. Arwen knelt along the ground, rolling and compacting snow together, the image of a great snowman in mind. They worked in a circle, faces downturned in concentration that she couldn't help but amuse herself with by looking over them every few minutes.

Cassian's ended up as tall as he was, but a little lopsided. He left towards the treeline with a comment about finding sticks for arms. Arwen waited until he had left to sneak a closer peek.

She gasped. "He has way more coal than us!" Rhysand was too busy marking his own snowman's face to hear, but Azriel scurried over at the accusation. It was true. Cassian's snowman had far more coal than hers did, giving him enough to detail the outline of a scarf and buttons as well as a neatly made face. She barely had enough to make an angled smile.

"Cheating bastard," Azriel muttered. With a quick check over his shoulder, he quickly worked at pulling the black chunks out of the compacted snow. He divided what he took between them and the pair hurried back to their own creations before Cassian returned. Rhysand remained oblivious. She had to admire his dedication.

Cassian returned with a pile of sticks, going about snapping them into the desired proportions. It was until he turned to his creation, that he paused. Arwen diverted her gaze, pretending not to notice the silent glare that passed over her as he hunted down the one responsible. Although, he committed the crime first, she reasoned.

"You bitch."

Arwen found Cassian staring at her. "Me?"

He stalked forward, a grabbing hand extending towards her. "You didn't have those when I left," he growled, nodding downwards.

She followed the line of sight. Straight to the coal she had in her hand.

Damn; she would not be making her debut as a criminal any time soon. Her free hand shot up, pointing at Azriel on her other side. "It was—"

She cut herself off with a shriek as he grabbed at her. Arwen twisted her way out, looking to Azriel for support but he only stepped away. She had just tried to pin it on him. Cassian launched after her again, shouting a command for her to surrender the stolen assets. Arwen, in turn, leapt to Azriel.

She clung to him as Cassian clung to her. Her feet were hauled from the ground and her viper grip on Azriel's neck dragged him into the midst. "It wasn't me!" she cried. "It wasn't me!" Cassian jostled her around, trying to both keep her in his hold and reach around for the coal she held in the hand not wrung around the spymaster's neck. The world became a blur of white and black. Azriel bowed his head, trying to duck away from her encaging arm. Cassian clawed at her fisted hand that she pressed to her stomach, unrelenting in its hold. Arwen hung between them both, the toes of her boots just scraping the snowy ground.

All three of them laughed.

The feeling of her lungs shaking in such a way was so foreign to Arwen that she wasn't sure what was happening at first until she could hear her own higher pitch above their chesty ones. Their hands became a tangle, and she couldn't tell which belonged to who, and as Azriel began to fight off Cassian instead, she barely remembered the reason for the scuffle.

Arwen fell back onto Cassian's hard body, through him, feeling a collection of snow splatter and soften their fall. She brought Azriel with them and he crushed down on her front. She gasped for the stolen breath, even if there wasn't much left through her fit of laughter that turned into a wheeze when she wasn't able to stop.

Azriel rolled off her first, giving her the space to tip off Cassian. She hit the soft ground on her elbows and knees. Rocking, Arwen attempted to gain the momentum to rise, but on a downward rock, ass to heels, she couldn't find the energy to move forward. Pushing to her hands, she let her head hang and used the muscles in her arms to press up but that too failed.

Something hot trickled down her nose. She lifted a shaking hand to wipe at it, already scenting the blood. On confirmation at sight, she erased the evidence on her pants.

A warm hand laid on her back and with her remaining strength, Arwen lifted her head and smiled at Cassian. "I'm okay." In that moment, she was more than okay.

He took an observation for himself and that's when Arwen noticed it wasn't his hand that was touching her. It moved as another joined it, the foreign strength lifting her upper body straight and she fell against Azriel's shoulder.

With the depleted energy she had, Arwen gave another laugh, the sound breathy and hoarse. Until she looked at the fallen snowman. Distraught warped her features. "Th-that's mine," she wheezed. Cassian guiltily looked over the indistinguishable mound. Her shoulders would have slumped if they weren't already. Azriel's small laugh sounded in her ear as he gave a sympathetic rub to her shoulder. "My snowman."

Rhysand came to stand next to it, using the toe of his boot to nudge a clump of coal. "I think that was an act of sabotage."

Cassian spluttered. "I fell. And she stole my coal!"

"You had more than your fair share," she retorted.

Rhysand looked over his shoulders. "Judges?!" Mor and Feyre both yelled their agreeance of cheating. He grinned at Azriel. "That leaves you and me, Az."

"Azriel is the one who took the coal and gave it to me," Arwen said. "I was just the recipient of the goods."

She almost laughed again at the proximity of his glare. "We were supposed to be partners in crime," he muttered into her ear, the warmth of his breath tickling it.

Rhysand held out his arms. "Then I claim victory by default."

Arwen looked over at his snowman. And frowned. "You cheated too."

He had the audacity to not pretend to understand why she would accuse him of such a thing. "I did not. I was working to myself the entire time."

Cassian perked at the accusation as if he wasn't just under the same fire moments ago. "What did you do, Rhysie boy?" Rhysand glared at him.

"That snowman is far too perfect," she proclaimed, gesturing to the smooth edges. "You used magic, didn't you?"

He dropped to a kneel so he matched all their heights—a tactic that did not go unmissed. Rhysand smiled softly at her. "Arwen, I swear to you that I did not cheat."

Arwen gathered her energy once more and pushed off Azriel's front, crawling along the snowy powder until she was knee-to-knee with her brother. Grinning, she pinched his chin. "You lie, brother!" She laughed again, throwing her head back to the clear sky before drawing it back. "Your eyes thin when you lie."

He twisted his chin out of her hold, grinning to the plain beyond as he cursed to the wind.

Mor slapped her hands against the deck's railing. "He lies! Sentence him to the gallows!" Feyre laughed and nearly spilt her drink, thanking Arwen for the clue-in for future use.

No one won the snowman competition. Rhysand scooped her up rather haphazardly, having her half-tipped over his shoulder as they made their way back into the cabin. But she knew the act was a hidden one of support—so she didn't have to hobble into a chair. So, they didn't have to see her weakening state. Mor was quick to shove wine into her hand which Arwen took without complaint.

Rhysand smiled down at her blanket-engulfed spot on the lounge before his lips twitched into a flat line. He crouched beside the rolling arm and reached for her jaw. She winced at the flare of pain. "Just a bruise," he muttered, returning the smile. "Nasty but small."

"I have Amren on my face?"

From near the fireplace, Cassian saluted her with his drink. Arwen laughed when Rhysand did, her cheeks straining and her muscles aching. They just stared at each other for a moment—a moment that neither of them probably ever thought would come to pass again.