Random One Shot Stories

One Bed: Azriel

After traveling the entire day on foot, you and the Shadowsinger decided to stop at the small inn placed in the middle of a small river town.

You were needed back in Velaris, but because of the spies located all over the land, and the Queens being able to track magic, you thought it safest to travel the old fashioned way.

Tired, sweaty, and hungry, you tumble into the door to the inn and let Azriel go ahead of you to talk to the owner about getting a room for the night.

After a few minutes of talking, Azriel turns back to you and nods his head, telling you to follow them up the stairs.

"There better be some hot food here." You grumble to yourself as you trudge up the stairs.

You're led down a long hallway lined with doors that look identical to eachother until you reach the end of the hall.

"This is it." The inn owner grumbles, unlocking the door before tossing the keys back at you, which you catch with ease.

The inn keeper leaves you and Azriel after telling you where the kitchen is, closing the door behind him.

You look around the small room, shivering in your wet clothes from the rain you had walked through for the past hour.

A painting on the yellow crusted wall. A dresser with chipped wood and a missing knob, a tiny bathroom with only a toilet and a sink, and a good sized bed in the middle of the space.

One bed.

You turn to Azriel slowly, heat rushing to your face as you realize the situation your in.

"There's only one bed." You state, crossing your arms in front of your chest. There was no way you and Azriel were going to share a bed. You could barley tolerate the Shadowsinger three feet away, let alone pressed against you in the dark.

Azriel's face is the definition of bored as he faces you, looking you up and down before picking up your bags and placing them on the mattress.

"It was all they had. It was this, or the forest floor. You pick." Azriel spits, opening your bag and reaching in to pull out clothes.

"What are you doing?" You stomp over to the Illyrian Warrior stifling through your underwear and rip the clothing from his hands.

"You're cold." He states, pulling a t-shirt from his bag and long sweat pants from yours. "Change while I go get food." He's gone before you can protest.

You look down at the clothing laid out for you. One of his black t-shirts, dry underwear, and some fuzzy sweats.

Why would he let me wear one of his shirts? You think, confused by his act of kindness. But you quickly brush it off, taking it as him just being in a good mood.

You change quickly, eager to shed the wet fabric clinging to your skin. With a wet rag and bar of soap, you clean yourself as best you can and wash your hair in the sink.

Your laying on the bed when Azriel saunters back in, two trays of steaming food in his hands.

You jump up fast, snatching a tray from Azriel's hand and sitting back onto the bed. Ripping the lid from your tray you take in the aroma coming from the food.