“What are they even expecting from me?” Azura asked as she stared off at the horizon beyond where they sat. They had wandered to the pier after she’d finished her ‘glass’ of beer, because she said she just couldn’t be there anymore. So now, they sat on the ledge of the aged wooden dock, while Azura’s feet dangled as she awaited Cyrus’ response.
She never did know what to expect before he opened his mouth.
It was part of his charm, she supposed.
The smell of the ocean at high tide was bearable, unlike the stench when it was low. A subtle scent of salt wafting into her nostrils that was soothing as the approaching water lapped at the rocks beneath them. A lullaby in the form of the crashing of a small wave every so often to disrupt the silence. They had been silent for some time as Azura came down from her frenzy.
Now, with a clear head she perhaps wished she hadn’t screamed at him.
But what was done is done.
And she would be lying if she said that, in some way, it hadn’t felt good.
Though, not as good as she had hoped.
The ache was still there, and it would be for some time.
Perhaps all this unfurling bullshit in her path could, at the very least, prove to be a good distraction.
“It doesn’t matter… It’s your blood that matters,” Cyrus replied. “They will teach you, if you agree to ally with them, and they will teach you well,” he explained. “They can afford the best of teachers and they will expect nothing short of perfection from you as you learn,” Cyrus grinned, but there was sarcasm in his tone.
More history.
More layers.
Azura turned to look at him as she noticed it, watching him thoughtfully for a moment. Although he could feel it, he did not turn his head to meet her gaze. Something about it felt… awkward. The way she admired the world that was particularly scrutinous, and he was not yet sure what to do with it. She had a childlike curiosity laced with the intensity of a grown woman, and it could be debilitating and invigorating when one found themself at the center of its attention.
“What do you think I should do?” Azura asked, and her tone was genuine. For some reason, she seemed to be truly interested in his opinion on the matter. Likely because, despite the fact that he had sort of kidnapped her, that he was more experienced in the world of royals - or so it seemed.
“Why do you care what I have to say?” He replied with a short laugh as he finally looked at her with a perked eyebrow.
Followed by a laugh of her own, she shrugged, and then looked toward the water again. “Who else do I have to ask?”
After a pause, Cyrus nodded thoughtfully, seemingly content with her response. “Fair,” he said simply. “I have my own experiences with them, but you… You could do well in their favor,” his tone shifted slightly but it was light, indicating honesty.
Everything he said was laced with several layers of other things that never left his lips.
It was all the mystery she had seen in his eyes when they first met at the party.
Something dark that she was all too familiar with.
“What about you?” Azura asked as her own timber lifted an octave or two. It was gentler than it had been in the tavern, a sign that perhaps she was - somewhat - comfortable in his company. Or more comfortable than she might be with most in her current state of affairs.
Which wasn’t saying much.
Cyrus was quiet for a moment, speaking through a lingering stare as something crossed his mind that Azura was oblivious too. Then, a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he looked away again, focused on the calm sea before them. “I am no one… No one does not earn the favor of royalty and courtiers,” he replied with evident derision.
Azura did not believe that he was no one, but she did not expect she would find out who he really was with ease, if at all. This was all so strange to her, given she did not typically sleep with those she had just met. She had been lost in the waters of heartbreak, and he had been a lifeboat - the first she had seen in a while. When they were entwined, skin on skin and heaving breaths, she had only thought of him. Of the song of his hips and the way he hissed in her ear with each beat of their rhythm.
No, she was not looking for love.
She was not looking for him to fill the hole that had most recently been torn in her affections.
She had just wanted to feel good.
Feel something.
And she had.
Still, she could not trust him, the royal family, or anyone at all.
She was alone.
Which was, admittedly, worse than her status when she had arrived at the party. Now, she did not know who her mother was, or how or when she would face her. It felt as if she had, for all the years, lived in the company of a stranger.
What was the life she had known before she was born?
Who was she when she had loved her father?
“This feels like a dream,” she finally said in a voice that was distant, just the same as her stare. “This feels…-”
“It’s not… The sooner you accept that, the better,” Cyrus responded with a newfound harshness. It was not aimed to hurt her, but to convey the gravity of the situation she found herself in. The road ahead, and one she could not turn away from even if she wished, it would be the beginning of a great tale that the Xetus people may tell around a fire one day, or it would lead to her end.
He did not envy her.
He did not know the greater details of who she was, how she had got here, or all the ways she had been kept in the dark since her birth. Yet, some part of him knew he would not desire to trade his own boots for hers.
While some might have been bothered by his bluntness, and perhaps it was off-putting for a moment, she was not. She was used to that same sort of brusqueness from herself, and so it was - in a way - refreshing. Given the fact that she had just discovered she had been lied to for so long, honesty was a nice change of pace.
“So, what happens?”
“It depends what you decide,” he replied.
“What if I go back with you, to the palace?”
“Then… It begins.”
----------------------------------------
It had been one month.
While some part of her had hoped for a life of lavishness and relaxation in the ‘favor’ of the royal family, that was another dream. The reality was hours of studying to learn of the deep history of her people and her family, and training to unlock the parts of her that had been left dormant.
It had been painful at times.
Tapping into her magic meant tapping into her heart and all that it could feel.
It was in agony for a multitude of reasons.
It still grieved him, aggravatingly, and now it grieved her mother. The woman she had not attempted to contact since she left their home one moon ago. At times, she thought to call her, but as her thumb hovered over her screen she’d always decided to simply lock it instead. Right now, she needed to focus, and dredging up the past with her mother seemed as though it would be messy - distracting.
The woman she was left to be instructed by was from Pangoku.
She had apparently worked in her father’s court for years, but she had departed when it became too dangerous. When her husband had been killed, and she began to fear for her own life if she had stepped one toe beyond his favor.
The way age lived on her was beautiful.
It made Azura hope that she might grow old in the same graceful fashion, but she doubted she would be capable of such an elegant ascension of time. The way she carried herself was like watching a moving work of art. Glacial and delicate mannerisms that were perfectly choreographed, and yet appeared to be entirely effortless.
She said little.
She spoke only when she felt entirely compelled and when she did it meant something.
She was patience incarnate.
Wisdom forged into a lovely feminine form and allowed to live and breathe.
At times, she could be harsh. She berated Azura for his missteps, when she did not listen, or when she rolled her eyes. Often reminding her that she did not yet grasp what awaited her, and sharing stories of the man her father had become.
Everything she heard.
It left her to wonder how her mother could have ever loved such a man…
“Why does he want this,” Azura asked. “Why does he want… everything?”
“He believes that Anagénn would be better with the practices of his people pushed upon them,” she began. Her accent was exotic. She often put the wrong emphasis on the wrong syllable, and annunciated strangely, but she was not hard to understand. In fact, she spoke Anish better than most who had since birth.
Azura included.
“The Xetu, the ones with magic… They must achieve Halcynity… It is a state of tranquility that devoids them of their emotions. If they can control their feelings, they gain absolute control over their power,” Isana held Azura’s stare meaningfully as she continued. “He believes that emotion is weakness, and if all could become Halcyn… Then we would all know true peace,” she paused for a moment afterward, contemplating something before she thought to speak next. “Perhaps there is some truth to it… Perhaps if we did not feel we may know less conflict and bloodshed, but what is humanity without emotion? Without heart?”
Azura did not have an immediate response. Often, she simply listened to Isana, absorbing all that would leave her lips and tucking it away for safekeeping. The only time she would speak at length was during their lessons, and Azura savored every moment of each of them. Even on the occasions she had made her angry or hurt her feelings with her honesty. There was something about her was calming and comforting despite her chilled presentation. Something, beneath that ice, reminded her of her mother.
She missed her.
She expected she always would if they did not reconcile.
What a terrifying thought that was.
“As a woman ruled by emotions… I don’t know who I would be without them,” Azura chuckled, but it was half-hearted. Sometimes, when the worst of those emotions took control of her completely, she really did wish she could be without them.
That to do so might mean that she would be free.
“Exactly,” Isana said quickly as she moved to stand in front of the younger woman. “It is my belief that your father is perhaps not the monster so many make him out to be. That being devoid of his heart has simply made him this way over the years,” she admitted as her eyebrows fell and her expression became rapt. There was a hidden meaning in those words Azura would not understand, for she lacked the context. Isana knew who her mother was, and she knew what she meant to Zelarin.
She had been very close to him, perhaps one of his dearest friends.
It was one of the reasons why she was allowed to live as the Tarian Palace, after all.
For all the things she could tell them of their enemy.
While she had shared, there were still made secrets locked behind her lips.
Things she felt she may be able to tell Azura instead.
The truth was, she was not so certain the Romadis family was any better than Zelarin. So, some part of her hoped that perhaps Azura could be molded into a leader that all of Xetus and possibly even Anagénn required. Though, she did understand it was quite the tall order for anyone. Let alone a girl who had been kept away from her culture for far too long.
There was much works to be done.
Azura did notice the subtleties in the slight shift in Isana’s cadence and the way she spoke. As always, she was endlessly absorbing every little detail about her surroundings, and Isana was a fascinating subject to analyze. There were many questions she hoped to ask her about it all. About Xetus, its people, and about her father, but she simply waited for what Isana would share - whatever she would share.
“Today,” she resumed as she inhaled a sharp breath from between her teeth. “Today I would like to explore the other part of who you are, Princess,” Isana smiled subtly as she spoke.
Princess.
Something in Azura cringed each time someone referred to her as that word.
It didn’t seem to fit her.
As if it were a dress several sizes too small and she could not pull up the zipper no matter how hard she pulled.
“The Rakanett… Many people know little of them, but Pangoku lives off of the coast of Occasus, and so our sailors have often taken expeditions to explore it and all of its secrets… Your people live inland, they keep to themselves but they are… altruistic. Even if they are skeptical of strangers,” she expounded. “They have no desire to entwine themselves with the…new world, but they are not violent as so many others have been known to be… Not unless provoked,” Isana paused then, putting emphasis on those words with her shift in delivery and the look in her midnight eyes.
Pangonese were marked by the deep shades of their iris that came in purples, blues, and greens. From afar they seemed to be a sable sea perched in their skull, but as they used their magic, they would ignite into something breathtaking. Isana’s eyes were truly a mix of deep amethyst and cerulean, obscured by the darkness of the chamber they occupied. Her people were an ancient civilization, older than most as they somehow survived and thrived into the modern era.
They taught little of them in school, just the same as many archaic cultures that held no relevance to Anagénn and its history.
A shame, truly.
“The Pangoku respect their rejection of modern society, for we are similar in a handful of ways, but it is our belief that they harm themselves with their complete isolation… A belief I am inclined to agree with,” Isana admitted.
Azura was entirely enthralled with what the older woman was saying, but she often was. Her mother had rarely mentioned her own tribe and what lived in Occaus. When she was younger, she had told her old stories of the Mother Nature and Father Earth and how he had carved out the rivers and lakes for her to quench her thirst and feed the flora of the lands, but there was little else beyond those tales.
“The Ranakett have nature magic, but not the same as the Zatrian who are one with the flora… The Ranakett are the wind, the rain, and the sun… One with the elements,” Isana motioned around her as she spoke. There were small and glowing illustrations manifesting around her to paint a picture as she taught. A sun floating hight above her head, white wisps dashing past her, and blue drops descending to the floor before they dissipated into nothing at all.
The Pangoku used ancient runes to conduct their magic. There were many of them tattooed on the older woman. Across her knuckles, on her arms, and in other locations hidden by her silken robes. She still dressed in the way of her people. Simple but fine attire with layers of fabrics concealing every bit of skin that was not her face, neck, and hands. The sleeves were obtusely long and angled, and the skirts were narrowed and tight. It obstruct most potential for movement, and allowed only small and delicate steps to be taken. Although Isana opted for simple designs, or none at all, Azura had heard the royals and nobles preferred intricacy. That their clothes were often adorned in beasts lost to time and elaborate designs. Dragons, phoenixes, and great sea monsters that could wipe a village in an evening as they rose from the shorelines.
Creshlin always believed that they were not gone as many had said, that they were simply sleeping, and one day they would wake to reclaim the land.
It always terrified the children, but Azura always did enjoy it when he had too much to drink and went on his conspiratorial rants.
Some part of her even believed some of them.
“I believe that the combination of the emotion from your Xetu blood and the Ranakett could be something… Marvelous,” Isana smiled at Azura for a long moment. She would not know it, but she often could see so much of her father in her, and at times…
It frightened her.
If she was to be Domina one day, Isana felt she owed it to the world to ensure she was nothing like Zelarin.
That she learned to live in peace with her emotions and her magic.
Harmony was the way of the Pangoku.
Balance.
“This room,” Isana extrapolated as she began to wander around the room. “There is nothing here, yes? We are in the bowels of the palace… No sun, no wind, no nature,” she turned to watch Azura as her hands clasped behind her back. “I want you to tap into all that you are feeling… All the pain and confusion of where you find yourself… And call upon the Spirits of the Wind to aid you.”
Azura’s eyebrows furrowed quietly. She had heard her mother whisper of the spirits under her breath on occasion. Typically when she was in her garden or trying to calm herself down. Again, there had been the occasional mention of them when she was young, but it had been less frequent until it hardly happened at all. The reality was that her mother missed her home, and to speak of it was painful. After the splendor of adventure had faded, her heart ached for all that she had ever known.
For her father, her tribe, and the wonders of Occasus.
But she had been forbidden to return, and the words of the elder were final.
Laws that could not be broken.
“I don’t know how,” Azura replied in a tone that was almost pathetic.
“The spirits are with you. They are everywhere, and they guide the descendants of the Rakanett… They have followed you since birth, Azura… Simply call to them and they will listen,” Isana mused as she gestured a comforting hand toward her pupil. “Close your eyes and focus… Search for them.”
The room they were in was grand, but barren. Its plain stone walls were enchanted to be virtually indestructible, like much of the rest of the palace, and it had been used for centuries by the Romadis family to train their most powerful magic users. In the last hundred years, they have lost much of their magic. To some, it had been a sign that the gods no longer favored them, but to speak those words allowed would often result in the loss of your tongue.
Or your head.
With a hesitant breath pulled through her nose, Azura’s posture strengthened, and she allowed her eyes to fall closed.
She had no idea what she was doing.
Interacting with others around court, using her magic, and everything else. It felt as if she was a toddler taking its first few wobbly steps as her mother let go all over again. Unfortunately, some part of her felt she was not ready for it yet.
That she didn’t have the strength.
However.
Just as Cyrus had said, she did not have a choice.
Sometimes, a path carved its way out before us and there was no fork in the road.
Nowhere else to turn.
Quietly, Azura centered herself just as Isana had begun to teach her. She relaxed her muscles one by one, starting from her toes, crawling up the length of long legs, and connecting with The Corum.
The plain from which all magic was drawn.
It was all aglow.
Golds, silvers, and glistening oranges and purples.
It was hard to explain the way it felt. As if it were a pool of raw power waiting to be waded in or drawn from. While it frightened Azura, she felt something compelling her to bathe in it. To submerge herself in all that it could offer and forge her into a god.
Magic was a wonder.
But a dangerous one when wielded by the wrong hands.
The Rakanett did not call upon Corum, however.
The realm of the spirits, The Veil or The Igi, was where their magic existed. The home that harbored their ancestors both good and bad, and the entities that guided them. Passing their magic on from one generation to the next until the end of time itself. In a sense, it was a pool much the same as Corum, but it did not feel the same.
It was warm and welcoming like a reverie on a hot day. Heated by the kiss of the sun as it watched overhead.
Azura did not believe Corum was inherently bad, but the way it could feel…
It left her to wonder if it had perhaps been tainted.
“I call upon the Spirits-”
As those words left her lips, however timid, she felt something surge through her that made her blood come alive. It was as if an electric current began to rush through her veins and she could feel the sun upon her face even if it was separated by walls upon walls of enchanted stone.
Isana observed her silently, and while there were no visual signs of what had occurred, she could feel the way the room had shifted. She could feel the power that emanated from Azura as she stood several steps away. Although she did not know it, the older Magi had much hope for her future.
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She needed to if she were ever to see her children again.
After adjusting to the new sensation, Azura’s posture readjusted once more. Easing into something confident and commanding as she felt herself being pulled elsewhere. Tugged to somewhere encased in a green warmth as a form manifested in front of her. Whoever they were, masculine in their stature, stood tall with squared shoulders and perfect posture. Gradually, they reached out to Azura, with the only discerning feature in their darkened silhouette being the feathers that rose from their head almost as if it were a crown.
When their features did not come into view, and they merely remained with that beckoning hand present forward, Azura’s lips parted once again.
“I call upon the Spirits of the Wind.”
A response would come, but perhaps not the grand display she had hoped for. It was a small rustling of the strands of her auburn hair as a breeze that had not previously existed manifested in that barren chamber.
Nice, Azura.
All this ancient blood and you conjure up a fart of the Spirits of the Wind…
However, encouraging as ever, Isana’s voice rang out in the space around her to disrupt the silence. “Call to them again, but not with your words… Call with your heart… Call with your soul.”
It was then that Azura wished she had connected with her spirituality long ago. Wished that she had asked more questions of her roots and what it all meant.
Wished that she knew more.
Still she listened, as best as she could.
She reached inside of herself and attempted to draw on a part of her that she did not know.
A piece of herself she was only just discovering.
I call upon the Spirits of the Wind..
The response this time was a great gust of wind forcing her hair to wave widely, and even rustle the long sleeves of Isana’s robes.
“Again,” she commanded.
I call upon the Spirits of the Wind.
The gusts that came in a reply to her call were harsh in their impact. Swirling around her and forming into a gradually forming tornado that encased her form as her eyes finally opened. Their iris alight with the shimmering gold that belonged to her father, and was given to her. Stunned by her own capabilities, Azura simply looked around herself, watching as those gusts grew from tufts of wind to something angry.
Something destructive.
With a quiet pride creasing lips lined with the wrinkles of time, Isana watched, and offered a single solemn nod of approval.
“Marvelous.”
----------------------------------------
“Princess,” a voice called to Azura that was not yet familiar, though not entirely foreign.
She had been studying as she had been instructed to do in the Royal Bibiotheca, but her mind had wandered, and soon her legs had followed behind. While the palace was beautiful and enormous, she felt herself being drawn beyond its confines whenever she was able. Despite its size, it felt terribly small and constricting.
Or perhaps that was the fault of the people who occupied it.
When she’d first arrived, they’d given her a room with a large closet, full of dresses. They were, as was explained, befitting of her station, but she could not stand them. It was hard to breathe in the corsets, and she much preferred the comfort of pants in her day to day. So, she stood on the balcony beyond the Bibliotheca in attire that was still fine, but quite different from the other woman who permeated the palace. It was primarily crimson with swirling golden details, and she had still forced into a corset - unfortunately. There was a train falling from the back of her blouse long enough to almost appear to a dress, and her pants were constructed of a fine black leather, with boots of the same make. The ruffles along her neckline and sleeves were Latrenia Lace, which had become even more expensive due to its capture, and they added a feminine flare the seamstress demanded from her attire.
They had argued over her disdain for dresses.
No, they had not just disagreed.
They had argued.
The older woman, painfully old fashioned, did not think it proper for her to wear… pants.
Her lip had curled in disgust each time she said the word, and she had scoffed when she finished dressing Azura.
Not-so-subtle displays of distaste that had been endlessly amusing.
Prince Oris approached her in simple brown leathers, he had gone hunting with his father and Cyrus earlier, and had yet returned to his rooms for a bath. He would have to soon, to prepare for the celebration being held that evening, but as he wandered the palace his legs had led him to here.
Where he might find her.
She fascinated him.
The only women he had ever known were subdued by the expectations of a nobility, and Azura was everything they weren’t. While his mother and sister thought it was uncouth and uncivilized, Oris had other opinions.
Of course, it had nothing to do with an idea his father had planted in his mind.
A potential to join Xetus and Anagénn in the truest of forms…
With a slow breath through her nose that was certainly exasperated, Azura turned to look over her shoulder. “Prince,” she said simply. “Please, call me Azura.”
“You’re going to have to get used to the titles, Princess,” he replied as he drew closer, his voice slightly raised due to the remaining distance between them. The second use of the title may have potentially been for the purpose of teasing her, but he was not wrong. It was just one of the many facets of courtly etiquette she would need to adjust to and accept in the years to come.
“Or I could get rid of them in my Dominion,” Azura quipped sarcastically as she cast a sideways glance in his direction.
He smiled quietly in response, slowing his pace as he reached her, and settling in the space to her right as he admired the horizon. The view from the palace was breathtaking. A perfect picture of the Anish Sea and the Roma Mountains that lined their eastern coast. The Romadis did not always rule Anagénn. Centuries ago they were a simple clan from the mountains that had risen against their oppressors, and now occupied their ancestral lands. The palaces, ports, and the city itself had been built by them, however. While Tarus had always been grand it was the Romadis family that had made it the jewel of all of Anagénn.
“A great step toward winning the favor of your nobility, for certain,” he responded with his own form of humor. It was as refined as they rest of him, and perhaps a bit dry because of it, but he had made her laugh once or twice.
“What has brought you to the Bibliotheca, Prince?” Azura asked without looking at him. She knew the answer of course, as she was not oblivious to the way he had a tendency to look at her, but she wrote it off as curiosity and lust. It was her expectation that she was simply a variation of fruit he had not been given the chance to bite, and so the wonder of its potential flavors had made him hungry.
As handsome as he was, it was not a mutual feeling.
He was a fucking… Prince?
Most of the time, she hardly knew what to say to him when they spoke. It resulted in instances of silences moments that often felt awkward, but he persisted each time afterward.
Perhaps he just wished to be friends?
Azura smirked to herself at the thought. Men like him, who had been promised everything their heart desired since birth, they always wanted more.
Particularly what one might say they should not and could not have.
“Curiosity,” he replied simply. “A thirst for knowledge just the same as all those drawn to... books,” Oris turned to look at her as offered a sly smile, admiring her for a moment. There was little effort to be truly convincing, and a coquettish flare to the way he spoke that indicated his curiosity might not be about... books.
“I am tired of books,” Azura sighed, her exhaustion genuine and deep. She’d crammed so much information into her head since her arrival at the palace, she wasn’t sure she’d retained anything beyond her lessons with Isana. The Xetu empire and the Zulandri family had a bloody history. One ripe with betrayal and bloodshed that had existed for as long as the name itself.
To a degree, she had begun to understand why her mother had kept her away from it for all these years...
“Give it time, you can enlist someone to do all your reading for you as a Domina,” he chuckled. When Azura did not respond, only offering a small amused breath from her nose, he cleared his throat before speaking again. “How has your experience been in my home thus far?” Oris inquired as he watched her. The energy in his aura shifting to something thoughtful and easing away from his previous flirtatiousness.
It caught Azura off of her guard, her eyebrow raising as she turned to look at him properly, analyzing him. For a moment, she had wondered if it was perhaps a joke, but the sincerity of it registered and indicated otherwise. For the most part, many courtiers regarded her with suspicious stares and hushed whispers exchanged with their peers. No, she did not expect to be accepted with ease, nor was she entirely certain if she wished to be at all, but it was exhausting.
Feeling like a stranger in the place where you slept.
Where you were meant to call a home.
She missed home.
She missed many things.
“I uh… I don’t think my response will be what you’re hoping to hear,” she replied honestly.
Painfully honestly.
It was a blessing and a curse.
Oris did seem surprised, given the way his eyebrows furrowed, but they soon relaxed. He was not entirely observant, and he understood that she was an outcast among the court. In fact, he could recall Cyrus having a similar problem, and though it still persisted, it hardly bothered him now. Or, at the very least, he had gotten better at acting as though it did not get to him.
“No, but it should be expected,” he responded with his own flavor of honesty. “This life, if you aren’t born to it… I suppose it will take some getting used to.” There was an inflection in his tone that seemed as if it might be an attempt at comfort, but they were strangers, so it didn’t quite make its mark. “In fact, even for me, certain things about this place can seem… Unpleasant,” Oris added with a stiff laugh. “Perhaps you might… make some friends,” he suggested with a perk of his brow. “Have you spoken much to my sister?”
Oh yes.
The Princess who looked at Azura in a manner as if she might eat her.
And not in a sexy way.
“Hmm, nope, haven’t had much of a chance,” Azura replied in a tightened tone of voice. It had been squeezed by a forced pleasantness as she resisted the urge to tell him she had no interest in reaching out. The air about her made it clear she looked down upon just about everyone who crossed her path. Given Azura had several inches of height on her and a bit of a temper, she thought the Princess might hurt her neck trying to do so if they spoke.
So it was best they avoided interaction, lest she injure herself.
Oris understood.
She was his sister, after all. Which meant few knew just how insufferable she could be the way that he did. Of course, when he had told Azura to make friends, he had been subtly implying himself. Though, each time they spoke, they had such a terrible time finding things to speak about.
Yes, he had noticed.
“Well… How did you occupy yourself before you relocate to the palace?” Oris inquired as his arms crossed over his chest, and he turned to face her properly.
It was then Azura thought of Sarai.
She hadn’t forgotten about her friend, she just had no idea what to say to her. Each time she tried to call there was that same fit of paralysis that overcame her when she thought to reach out for her mother. It wasn’t that she was angry at her. In truth, she often wished she could speak to her and tell her of all the new things that now occupied her time. However, given the way Cyrus had explained what it meant to be under the care of the crown, she feared what it might mean if they knew what she meant to her.
Yes.
She feared putting Sarai in danger.
Because, once again, she could not trust these people, or anyone at all.
“I had a shitty job at a cafe, and a tendency to get drunk after my shift to cope with the shitty-ness,” Azura said simply as a mournful sigh departed her nose. While she didn’t really miss her job, she found herself already aching for the simplicity of her old life. One that she perhaps had not entirely grasped that she would be leaving behind when she made the impulsive decision to come to he palace.
“Well,” Oris began as his eyebrows creased, “there will be plenty to drink at the celebration tonight. Perhaps you could… let your hair down.”
Azura gave him the look that quietly asked:
Are you sure about that?
She’d been mindful to be in control of herself since her arrival here, and she had still socially stumbled all over the place in her everyday. Partially because she did not feel safe letting her guard down, and partially because she did not think her authentic self would mesh well with nobles.
“I appreciate what you are trying to do,” she said after a moment. “Even if I’m not sure why you are trying to do it." The inflection of her tone and the way her eyebrow raised indicated the statement was partially a question.
“Well, I am to rule here, one day… If you are to be an ally of Anagénn they you will be an ally of mine, should you not?” He explained, the query mostly rhetorical. “It would be wise, if perhaps we got to know one another, don't you agree?”
Ah.
Diplomacy.
A foreign concept for the naive Azura.
Even ten years from now if all went as planned, she was certain she would require the help of diplomats and councils if she wanted to avoid making a political mess of Xetus. Despite her acceptance, and the fact she was here, there was still a part of her that regarded this as some sort of joke.
When reality hit, she was sure it would feel like one great big slap in the face.
Or a sword through the chest.
“I’m sorry,” Azura adjourned after a moment. “I’m new to all this… It would probably be a while before I get the hang of it,” she said with a half smile.
“That’s alright,” Oris grinned as his shouldered lifted in a slight shrug. “Perhaps I can help? Given I’ve been groomed for my role since… Always,” he sighed. It was eclipsed by a short chuckle, but it did not smother the fact that there was true exasperation there.
Azura’s expression became thoughtful then.
She wondered what he might be like, what any noble might be like, beneath the mask they wore in their day to day. Despite how comfortable and expensive they were, she was certain his shoes came with their own complications. If she could, she did not think she would give up her youth spent running barefoot through the forest for etiquette classes and lessons on the inner workings of operating an entire kingdom.
“Don’t you have better things to do? Like make maidens swoon and flip your hair around as you climb down from your horse,” Azura clutched at her chest as her tone became overdone. Even her choice of words was an attempt to mock those she now found herself surrounded by. There was a pause afterward, where a shade of pink bled from her features, and she wondered if she might have offended him. It was not unknown to her that her loose lips may pose to be an issue in the future, but she was simply taking the days as they came.
It was all she could do.
Thankfully, after a pause where his right eyebrow shot upward, a grin crawled across his lips, and a laugh got lodged somewhere in the bridge of his straight nose. He was as handsome as one might expect a prince to be. Although he was a few shades lighter than his sister, there were bits of his mother in him as well. However, he seemed to be a better mix of both of his parents as he donned the strong features of his father. A square jawline, that straight but prominent nose, and eyes the shade of honey - rich like gold. It was all framed by a mane of shoulder length hair that was such a deep shade of brown it was nearly black.
The hair he spent his time flipping at maidens, of course.
“No, I am…,” he paused as his features seemed to fall slightly, “engaged.”
That was something she had not considered. Marriages between nobles were often arranged, and if rumors were true, they were also void of affection.
More differences between them that left her absent of envy.
Certainly, there were good and bad parts of all of her past relationships, but she had loved them all in some way, and she was happy to have the freedom to do so.
Even if it ended in pain.
The thought brought a duller version of the persistent ache she’d been feeling for months to emanate in her chest.
She yearned for the night she could fall to sleep and not think of him.
With hope, it would arrive sooner than later.
“Congratulations?” Azura posed the statement as a question once again, and mostly due to the way he had had offered the revelation.
“Thank you,” he chuckled. “I expect she will be here this evening, when we announce our plans for the future of Anagénn and Xetu,” Oris said pointedly. He was referring to their intention to train her, and put her on a battlefield against her own father. Although she did not know the man, it still felt… strange. Her mother had instilled a strong sense of family within her and so her natural instinct was to reject the notion. If she were to be honest, it might have been because she did not know him. She had only heard of all of his acts secondhand, and from those who stood to be his enemies. So, some part of her wondered if there was a chance that he was not as terrible as they made him sound. If things had been skewed because the narrator telling the story had a particular narrative they were trying to sell.
Still, she was not sure she would get the chance to meet him for herself, and do so on terms where they were not sworn enemies.
Tonight, the Romadis family would announce to all of Anagénn that they would ally with her, and together, they would conquer Dominus Zelarin so she could ascend as Domina.
The first in all of Xetu history.
They had quite a lot of faith in her.
Or perhaps they had faith in their own armies and her blood.
Silently, Azura seemed to become uncomfortable as she released a long breath from her nose. “I’ve never been to a ball… I don’t know how to dance… Well I do… But I’m not sure if the way I dance will be suitable for a fu-,” she cut herself off as her eyes widened, “for a whole ass-”
Damnit.
“-ball.”
Oris laughed again, seemingly unbothered by her lack of refinery. After all, he was not unaware that she came from the slums. So, he had not been expecting much in terms of how she carried herself. If nothing else, it had at least proved to be entertaining without fail. She had successfully bothered her sister at every meal they’d shared due to her lack of manners, and interactions with nobles were usually less than productive. Often they ended in her conversational companion finding themselves offended or frightened.
Both were equally amusing.
Even with Cyrus it had not been like this. He had been in the palace since he was just an infant, and so he knew how to conduct himself. Azura on the other hand... was in uncharted territory. She was arreling through the unfamiliar land with a shamelessness that had to be admired in some way.
“I could show you,” Oris offered nonchalantly. There was no ulterior motive, despite his growing interest in her, but he could not say he would not enjoy a chance to dance with her. Given doing so at the ball would not be allowed, this may perhaps be the only chance he would have to do so.
Meanwhile, Azura found herself suspended in fear.
Certainly she could do with some pointers before she embarrassed herself in front of the entirety of court, but a month ago she was trying to find the motivation to rise from her bed and shower.
It was a far cry from dancing with princes.
What the fuck was this?
Some sort of rags to riches fairy tale bullshit?
“Sh-...ure,” she replied with a most excruciating half smile and nervous puff of laughter.
Oris was used to every woman jumping at the chance to dance with him - to be near him. So to say he was slightly perturbed by her lack of enthusiasm would be a vast understatement. Of course, his own way of thinking would not lead him to the very logical explanation as to why.
She was terrified.
With the state of her still grieving heart she was not in the market for a prince to swoop her off of her feet, so the proposition he presented proved to be horrifying, and nothing else.
“If you do not wish to, please… I don’t wish to make you uncomfortable-”
“No,” Azura nearly barked. "It's fine," she quickly added in a softened tone.
This was only getting worse and worse.
It was a wonder she had ever been in a relationship with the way she conducted herself.
It was why she was often quiet, at least until she was comfortable.
Then she would never shut up.
Oris’ eyes widened, and then something seemed to register in their golden depths that soothed his expression into amusement.
Had Azure expected to do anything aside from make and ass of herself in front of nobility when she arrived?
Nope.
“Here,” Oris stepped forward slowly, and reached for her hand. “May I?” He asked politely, to which she responded with a hesitant nod of her head as she tried to relax her slowly tensing body. A thoughtless reflect when her overabundant anxiousness began to take hold of her one muscle at a time.
Gently, he laced his fingers with hers, and raised their hand to hover at their right. “Now put your left hand on my shoulder, and I will put mine… here,” Oris explained as he hooked under her right arm and cupped her shoulder blade. “This is the standard position… There are the Anish dances, but I prefer the Athacan, from my mother’s home… They are much more… Intimate,” he continued in a lowered tone of voice as his grin bloomed with mischief.
Azur quietly felt a flutter in her stomach in response. One that could and perhaps would turn into vomit at any moment as she gripped his shoulder.
No butterflies here.
Just stomach acid and anxiety.
“Now, you will keep your feet hip distance apart,” Oris nudged one of her feet lightly as he looked downward and instructed. Listening dilligently, Azura assumed the new stance as her own attention adhered to the floor. “When you begin to move, step forward with your left foot… Then you will move your right foot toward the right, and close the gap with your left… Then you will step back toward the left with your left, and close with your right foot… And repeat,” he grinned as he met her eyes and offered a brief display of the movements as he explained them. “Shall we?”
No.
We shall not.
A nightmare flashed across her mind where she somehow landed firmly on her ass, and embarrassed herself further.
“We shall,” her mouth betrayed her as she inhaled a deep breath and forced her posture into rigidity. Though, there was a lack of her typical confidence in her tone that Oris did not miss. While he expected it was because of the fact that she was dancing with a rather handsome prince, he was wrong.
Azura was simply a ball of anxiousness that had been allowed to live and breath.
“Right… One.. Two.. Three… Left…. Right… Left to right… Left and-,” Oris paused as Azura’s steps stuttered.
Despite the fact that she had been watching their feet, she had still managed to fuck up.
In a gesture that was so fluid it must have been practiced many times over, Oris' hand slipped downward and cupped the small of her back to better keep her upright. However, she was now acutely aware of his touch against the fine fabric of his clothing, and how it did not feel so unpleasant to be in his grasp...
Likewise, Oris did not find holding her in his grasp to be unpleasant.
Not in the slightest.
No.
No no no.
Nope.
The last thing she required was an infatuation with a prince on her long list of bullshit.
“It is no trouble,” he mused as his stare held hers hostage, lingering on the details of her face for breath as they sat in a momentary silence. He was admiring the pouty-ness of her lips as his mind wandered, but quickly returned from its journey to his present location. “Again… One… Two… Three….”
This time Azura kept her eyes on his instead of letting them fall to the floor. Something about watching her steps made her even more nervous than she alread was, and then it became hard to focus at all. However, as she listened to Oris, and looked into his eyes, the rhythm became effortless. With each repetition the steps were rendered easier as they slowly fell into an thoughtless synchronicity.
It was going quite well until he abrutly pulled her closer, the scent of the oils on his skin and the sweat from his earlier hunt lingering in his aura.
Now perhaps there was butterflies.
Or that was just the way her pulse increased as the space between them was decreased.
Which was maybe the same the thing...
“The way of Athaca is different,” his fingers sprawled out against her back as his voice dipped to an alluring murmur. It was husky and dreamy as it rumbled its way up from his broad chest, and settled in her ears.
He was good at this.
Likely from years of experience...
“It is about being close… And the steps are quite simple… Back… Together… Front… Together,” Oris expounded as his gaze remained on her throughout the movement of his feet. Even as Azura looked away to watch him, she could feel the heat of it as it lingered on her - burning as it did so. “Often, the music will settle into your hips all on their own, and the movement becomes automatic,” he smirked. “One... Two… Three…”
Azura had been hypnotized by the sound of his voice without even realizing it. Though it was not simply his voice. It was the way he carried himself - his candor and eloquence. It was the promise of muscles hidden beneath his leathers, and the confidence that oozed from is pores the same way sweat would.
Perhaps he had inherited some of his mother's allure…
If it were at all possible.
Whatever it was, she felt herself ease, and when they began to move again it was thoughtless - effortless once again. It was as if she had known this dance long ago, and had only required a simple reminder. The two of them seemed to lose themselves in the impromptu lesson, Oris had even begun to hum and old Athacan song as smiles captivated their expressions. Until he at last concluded their dance with a spin that sent her away from him, and swiftly brought her back toward him seconds afterward, pressing her firmly against his strong form.
The rise and fall of Azura’s chest was now pronounced as they remained as they were for several moments too long, swept away in a heated silence as they looked into one another's eyes.
This man was dangerous.
He was accustomed to decorating his bed with the many beauties of court, and he had little intention to allow Azura to be an exception.
He wanted to know what her and her many flavors tasted of.
Even if only for one night.
“You’re a natural,” he said in a tone so soft it was hardly above a whisper. He was using much of his restraint not to let his gaze fall to the bust now pressed against him, teasing him with the way her labored breathing taunted him. The truth was, despite how she was raised, Azura was not common courtier.
With hope, she would one day be a Domina.
And that was something so few men would ever have the privilege of savoring.
“Maybe you’re a good teacher,” she replied with a soft smile. It was a little more flirtatious that she had intended - or expected - but she could not help herself.
He was enticing, and he knew it.
Which made it both irritating and even better.
Then, the two were interrupted by a clearing of a throat as Cyrus appeared in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back as the expected smartass expression rested on his features. “I did not mean to interrupt… But your mother is looking for you, my Prince… She said if you do not bathe you will stink up the ball and send all of the nobility of Anagénn fleeing for the mountains,” he said with an amused smirk that reached all the way to his green eyes.
“Of course,” Oris chuckled as he allowed his hand to drift downward, pulling it away just as it threatened to traverse the curve of Azura's backside. “I hope I have helped you prepare for tonight… Princess Azura,” he said with a bow once he pulled away from her. “Excuse me… One does not keep Queen Shatrina waiting.” There was an effort to catch Azura’s gaze before he turned on his heel, and whistled to himself as he retreated into the Bilbiotheca.
This left Azura alone as her cheeks burned with the heat of her embarrassment. No, she and Cyrus had not become lovers over the last month. She had made a point to allow herself to heal further before she involved herself with anyone else romantically. However, they had become friends.
Perhaps.
At the very least, he was someone she felt she could speak to, and easily. Which was something she had been missing since she’d left her home.
Though, to say there was not still a lingering attraction between them would be lie. At times, she would find herself assaulted by the memory of that night, and left to bite her lip until she remembered where she was.
In a room full of people.
“He was just-”
“It’s none of my business... Princess Azura,” Cyrus said as he raised his hands in surrender.
“No I just-”
Cyrus could not help but laugh as she stumbled over her words. It felt as if he was a disciplinary and he’d caught her doing something she should not. When in reality, he was not surprised. Oris was a womanizer, and he had been for many years. He could not blame him for finding himself fascinated with Azura, and so he had expected this pursuit might begin eventually.
He had also been in the room when his father had mentioned a potential alliance between their two lands.
A Domina and a King as man and wife.
He was certain that it would go over well politically if i came that point.
Still, this meant that Oris would not only be enticed by her beauty, and power, but by how she could serve his ambitions.
There had never been a woman who could resist him for as long as he could remember.
So he did not expect this would be any different.
Still, there was a competitive and petty part of him that wondered if he could serve to be obstacle. If he could lodge himself in the path of the future King of Anagénn and what he desired.
If he could take it from him.
“I don’t know how to dance, so he was just showing me,” Azura finally explained as her eyes fell closed, and her form deflated with the sigh that departed her. “I don’t want to make an ass out of myself in front of everyone,” she admitted pathetically.
However, when her eyes opened, she found that Cyrus had moved closer. He was looking down at her as he admired her quietly - blatantly. His stare caressing her features and falling to her bust as something hungry flickered across his emerald gaze. "You could have asked, Azura... We have danced before, after all," he murmured as his lips hovered inches from her own.
Azura melted.
Easing into a puddle before him that he could utilize as he pleased as she lost himself in his stare.
Although he thought to say more, and his lips even parted to do so, Cyrus opted against it. He instead wanted to leave her to linger in her desire until she could not take it. “Oh... I do expect you still will... Make an ass of yourself, that is,” he grinned before he pulled back, and then turned away from her so he could leave her to stew in her need alone. “And I look forward to it," Cyrus called to her but did not turn to look at her.
Fuck.
She thought to herself.
These were complications she had not anticipated.