More Azriel-Beron for @hieragalbatorixdottir
With the strange powers Azriel possessed, he was able to travel where even High Lords could not. Hence, he agreed to do this one last task. One last atrocity in exchange for his freedom.
The woman, Nora Barranach, wasn’t difficult to spot. Azriel did not know what the Day Court heir looked like, but Nora stood alone amongst her Spring Court peers with her darker complexion and her hair braided into a crown embedded with red roses. She was draped in green and pink silks that were probably worth more than his house. She held herself in a way that left no one in doubt that she was the High Lord’s daughter. Head up so high it almost seemed like she was looking up at something. One elegant hand on her hip, which she had jutted out to the side. The slightest of smirks that never left her face no matter what the people around her said or did. The center of attention, and for good reason.
The girl with two fathers and two High Lord bloodlines running through her veins. Likely trained in combat, probably by Tamlin himself. He might be able to defeat her in battle, but it was difficult to say. It was best to catch her by surprise.
But how would he ever do that when she appeared to be surrounded by people all the time?
He had to get her isolated somehow. Or perhaps just wait. She had to leave her friends at some point.
God did he regret that hours later. Was this some kind of party? Why was there so much movement? Azriel hated parties, and with the Spring Court dress code, he’d stand out and not in a good way like Nora. More like he’d stick out like a sore thumb. His legs were cramping like he was some pathetic human.
He’d lost track of the lady; she was damn near impossible to find even with her distinctive features with the crowd far thicker than it was some time ago.
“Did you think I wouldn’t catch you spying, beautiful?”
Azriel was so shocked that he jumped two feet in the air and his shadows automatically moved to cover his face. “Cute friends you got there, huh?” A feminine voice spoke near him, and Azriel turned towards the sound. He glared at the traitorous shadow that reached out to the woman, staring at the offending woman who had somehow gained the attention of one of his shadows, who were quite picky.
Nora Barranach was even more devastating up close. She somehow cut an elegant figure despite her well-toned arms and legs. Her bronze skin had a faint shimmer to it like the rising sun. Some of her glossy midnight hair had fallen out of her updo and hung in pretty wavy frames around her face. Her eyes were the color of honey, her lashes the thickest and longest Azriel had ever seen. Her thick brows raised as she looked him over. Her heart-shaped lips formed a smirk that looked like she held many dirty secrets. Her clothes appeared to be embroidered with elephants sewn with thread made of actual gold. Everything about her screamed, I am that woman. Everyone wants to be me.
Azriel’s jaw might have dropped a little bit. Just a little! She swaggered up to him, his rebellious shadow lovingly wrapped around her wrist. She batted her eyes at him, lifting one long slender finger to caress his cheek. Azriel shuddered when he felt the sharpness of her nails.
Nora chuckled. “Ah, you noticed my claws.” She moved her hand from his face, wiggling her fingers at him. Indeed, Azriel saw the long curled nails that looked like they could shred flesh. “Courtesy of my father. Well, one of them. The Spring one.” She rested her palm on his cheek.
“Wow, you’re gorgeous,” Azriel said without thinking. He’d completely forgotten about the task at hand. He had come here to do something, right? What was it?
Nora winked. “I know.” Azriel opened his mouth to speak again, but Nora rested one finger against his lips, shushing him. “When one is as handsome as you, you need not speak. Let your body do the talking, hmm?”
Azriel was so horny and so desperate for sexual interaction that was actually consensual that he did not protest when Nora began kissing him; he only deepened the kiss, working with his tongue and getting a moan out of her. She tasted of cherries and whistleberries, a telltale sign that she was drunk.
She pulled back, giggling slightly. “Hey, you’re not my lover,” she said before she hiccuped. She scrunched her face up like she was making a difficult decision. Then she said, “Oh, well we can pretend you’re Camille for one night. You’re certainly pretty enough, yes?”
Azriel only pulled her back towards him, letting her caress his chest before he realized what he’d forgotten.
Oh, right. He was supposed to be kidnapping this girl.
He pulled away from the kiss this time, gasping for air. “Nora, I’m really sorry about this.”
Nora blinked. “Sorry for what?”
Azriel’s answer was to melt them both into shadow.
Azriel winced. Shadow travel had never hurt him before, but he found his body struggled to maintain its shadowy form. He was eventually able to discover why he was having this difficulty: Nora kept flashing lights like some ball one could find at a club. Damn her and the Day Court blood within her. His body felt like it was being crushed into a thousand pieces until finally, by some miracle, Azriel managed to land them in the Autumn Court throne room. He wiped the sweat off of his brow, but it continued to drip from the effort he had just exerted.
“Unhand me at once!” the lady-demon-witch demanded; at this point Azriel couldn’t tell which one she was. Shockingly strong and stubborn even while donning a dress, she fought him every step of the way to the throne; it took all of his focus, shadows, and Illyrian training to keep her from slipping free. Flowers had begun to bloom over her dress, and Azriel knew the thorns piercing his arms and legs would scar. At last, she bellowed like a banshee, a CRACK and a flash of light breaking Azriel’s hold on her briefly before he lunged at her again. The woman had the audacity to spit before the Autumn throne before she straightened her spine and glared up at Beron Vanserra with enough rage and grace to make the mightiest of men cower. Indeed, Azriel could’ve sworn that Beron flinched ever so slightly at her piercing amber stare.
“My father will have your head for this,” Nora Barranach hissed, and in that moment, Azriel believed her. He had never seen Beron unnerved until now. When Azriel and Beron’s eyes met, Azriel let the High Lord see all of his smug satisfaction at his fear.
Despite his clear trepidation, Beron managed to answer coolly, “Which one?” The question was merely to be impertinent; it seemed fairly obvious to Azriel. Although Nora resembled Helion in almost every way, she lived with Tamlin and was likely raised by him. She had to mean him.
“Tamlin will go to war to get me back,” Nora snapped, imperious even within Azriel’s grasp. “Enjoy your last few days as High Lord.”
Beron snorted, but Azriel could sense his anxiousness through the mating bond. “He wouldn’t be so foolish. The Autumn army is far stronger than the Spring one; we were built for war.”
“He wouldn’t need to conquer Autumn. Just kill you,” she sneered. It had to be the inebriation making Nora this audacious, didn’t it? Azriel didn’t know what to do if this was her natural personality.
“He will be doing no such thing,” Beron said calmly, “for you’ll be married to my eldest: Eris.”
“Like Hel will I marry one of your demon spawn,” Nora growled. Again she writhed in Azriel’s arms. “Let. Me. GO!”
Azriel sent his thoughts down the mating bond: pure panic. He wouldn’t be able to keep a hold on Nora Barranach for long. Beron must have understood, for he gestured the guards at his side to fetch something, and moments later, they returned with two males: the pretty Vanserra, who Azriel knew as Eris, the eldest, and another man who had to be his brother. This one was a few inches shorter, his chin-length wavy hair not quite so bright as the others, but still possessing a distinct reddish shade in his brown hair.
This man made eye contact with Azriel before he stared at the faerie held against his chest. Azriel watched as his eyes widened upon seeing her, his pupils dilating. “GET OFF OF HER!” he snarled, rushing them. Azriel was too slow to react, and Beron’s son rammed into him, shoving him to the ground hard before he lifted Nora into his arms bridal style. Azriel stared at the two of them panting, Nora wrapping her arms around his neck.
Then he felt it: something stronger than all of the forces in this room.
“By the Mother,” Eris whispered. Confused, Azriel turned to Beron, whose demeanor once again exuded confidence. That could never mean anything good. Azriel braced himself for the bad news.
“How utterly delightful,” Beron drawled. “Lady Barranach and my son Henri are mates. Change of plans, then. A mating ceremony of course shall be held for the two mates, and my eldest Eris shall be wed to my very own warrior, Azriel Shadowsinger.”
What? All the warmth drained from Azriel’s body. He was to be married…to his mate’s son?
You promised, Azriel accused, sending his thoughts down the bond. You swore that I’d be free.
Beron tilted his head at his son in answer, but Azriel heard the words loud and clear.
Free from me, he crooned. But not from my sons. Should’ve worded the bargain better, shadowsinger.
And Azriel had known that Beron would try to find a loophole. He thought he’d prepared himself for all possibilities. But somehow, this had never even crossed his mind. And now he was trapped once more, this time accompanied by marriage to the man who’d so heartlessly killed his brother and held a sword to his mother’s throat. His mate’s son, who Beron would keep close. He had thought this through. Azriel would never escape Beron. He’d never breathe Night Court air ever again.
