The Seamstress, Ninki, was a commoner by birth. Years ago, she had owned a shop in the same slum Azura had called home for much of her life. Eventually, her designs had made their way to the nobility, and one dress worn to a ball caught the eye of Queen Shatrina. After summoning her to her palace, she offered her a place at court as her personal designer, and who could decline such an offer?
Her creations had become legendary.
Some had been immortalized into paintings around the palace, and whispered about each time Shatrina was seen wearing one publicly.
She had come from nothing and ascended to legend with a simple thread and needle, and Azura admired that deeply.
Now, she was tasked with her greatest challenge yet.
Azura.
Not only had she declined the dresses she had pre-designed for her, and instead opted for… pants, but the process of finding something that suited her taste for the impending ball had been beyond tedious.
They had at least decided on purple, the color of her house, but the design…
Each time they made progress they eventually hit a wall of indecision.
However, with only hours before her grand entrance, they had finally come to an agreement. Which was how Azura had found herself subject to all of Ninki’s pent up frustration as she tightened her corset.
She didn’t understand the point of them, aside from ensuring it felt as though her chest was lodged into her throat.
As the small seamstress pulled on the strings even tighter, Azura reached out to use the pillar in front of her as a support.
This was just one of the many plights of nobility.
While their dresses might have appeared to be beautiful, that beauty was pain.
Every day she spent engrossing herself in their lifestyle only proved to her that the naive mind of a child, longing to be a princess, was so very skewed.
Though, she supposed there were two sides of every coin.
That there could be no good without bad.
Or rather, the good could not be recognized without the bad to compare it to.
“Is it not tight enough?” Azura asked with a strained voice as she squeezed her eyes shut.
“No,” Ninki said as she pulled again, and even harder.
Azura was not in perfect form. She was not overweight, but she was certainly fuller in frame than most of the slender women at court. They were tiny little things that seemed as though they might be blown over if a gust of wind too powerful came rushing by. Still, despite what most might expect, Azura felt no pressure to match their standard.
She quite liked the way she looked.
She preferred the fullness of her thighs, the small pouch on her belly, and the generous curve of her rear.
That was not to say there was anything wrong with the slender model, she was simply content with her own.
Unfortunately, that meant corsets were rather tight in an attempt to snatch her waist to that standard.
“Enough,” Azura commanded as she felt the laces tense once again, and began to move away from Ninki.
“Allow me to fasten them, Princess,” the seamstress said as she followed behind her.
“Allow me,” a voice said from behind them both.
Azura had heard it before, but it had not been enough to easily place it. It took her looking into the mirrors semi-circled around her, and meeting the midnight gaze it belonged to in order to figure it out.
Princess Nasira.
Azura had a point of avoiding conversation with her. Not simply due to lack of interest, but because she expected conversation might be dull, or she might be patronizing.
She did not do well with those who looked down on her.
With glacial graceful steps, she moved toward Azura, and delicate hands began to fasten the laces on the intricate corset hugging her form. While it was white, it had fine details that could only be seen upon careful inspection. A masterpiece created by hand by Ninki. While Azura did aggravate her, the perfectionist that she was hoped for the day she could present something to the young woman without a grimace creasing her features.
“You will get used to them… With time… As you will many things in your new life,” Nasira mused as she finished, and released a slow breath from her nose.
She was so beautiful it was painful.
Elegance dripped from her pores and a sultry eloquence fell from her lips with every syllable she uttered.
Azura was certain she could have the world earring from the palm of her hand if she desired it.
A power she could not help but wonder what it might be like to possess…
A power that she had been promised if she ascended to Domina.
“It’s what I keep telling myself,” Azura sighed as she stepped away from her, and reached for the wine sitting on a nearby table. What was easily adjusted to, was the way that the nobles seemed to drink leisurely. Sipping on alcoholic beverages all day long, and many of them maintaining a lovely buzz as they conducted themselves in their day to day. It was easy, when there was no real work to be done – no job they needed to attend in order to survive.
Azura did enjoy a drink.
Particularly recently.
“How has your experience been in my home thus far?” Nasira inquired, an expected pleasantry.
The particular use of identical phrasing transported Azura to her interaction with Oris just hours before. It was a reminder that he was dangerous, and to not forget that his sister was too.
Which left Azura to wonder what exactly she was doing here.
It was hard to accept that there were not several layers to the motives behind every action of a royal, especially when they were a complete stranger.
There was a pause before she answered that Azura filled with a deep sip of her wine. During which she considered if she should offer the same honesty to Nasira as she had Oris.
Something told her that would be unwise.
Something about Nasira unsettled Azura.
“It is everything I could have imagined,” she responded with an easy smile. Her cadence here, with Nasira, was colder than it might be in the presence of someone like Cyrus. In her mind, this was not someone she should allow her guard to fall down around.
Still, she had not really lied to Nasira.
All the things she expected would vex her had done exactly that.
Nasira saw easily through Azura’s carefully chosen words, but merely smirked quietly in response. It conveyed that she understood her undertone, but without the effort of saying so aloud. Having mastered control over her manner since her childhood, Nasira could conduct a speech without her lips parting. She could speak with a narrow of her eyes, or a subtle pursing of her lips, and leave those around her feeling terribly small because of it.
It was an art form, in a sense.
“What do we plan to do about her face, Ninki?” Nasira inquired. There was a lightness to her tone that was meant to convey a lack of intent to offend, but her choice of phrasing did quite the opposite.
This was going exactly as Azura had expected.
“That is the job of the beautician,” Ninki said simply, as she fought the furrow hoping to find the space between her thin eyebrows.
It was a rude thing to ask, but she had no grounds to say so. Even though she was in Queen Shatrina’s favor, that favor was a fragile thing, and could be lost easily if she stepped too far beyond its boundaries.
Azura, on the other hand, simply raised an eyebrow at her as her lips pursed naturally. She was not good at hiding her emotions from her expression – or at all – nor did she care to. It was foolish, probably, but there was a defiant part of her that refused to bend and bow for those who did not deserve it.
Who was Nasira, anyway?
Aside from a pampered princess who knew little of the horrors of the world she believed she lived on the very top of.
There was disdain for the royals in the slums, and Azura was no exception to that rule. It was hard not to harbor resentment for those who had everything while you had barely enough at all. In the last decade, it has only gotten worse. Things had become progressively more expensive, and where the poverty line had begun had broadened considerably. Gradually, the middle class was being eaten away and soon it would not exist at all.
Soon there would be only the rich, and the poor.
“Allow me to help?” Nasira offered with a pleasant smile as she extended her hand in front of her in an open invitation to take it.
Without thought, Azura’s chin raised as she analyzed the seemingly innocent gesture. For a moment, she thought to say no. To tell her Nasira would prefer privacy as she prepared for what was being called her ball, but. But, as impulsive and stubborn as she could and would often be, she was not unaware that she should conduct herself carefully in the company of the royal family.
Even if she could not stand them.
“What an honor,” Azura quipped, but she neglected to give her hand to the Princess. A detail that was not lost on her, of course “Lead the way,” she added with a slow nod of her head.
Nasira lingered for a moment before she retracted her hand, and her smile eased into a smirk. There was something there that seemed as though it might be annoyed, but she did not dare display it openly.
She would not give Azura the satisfaction.
This was a different dance than the one that had been shared with Oris.
It was danger of another flavor.
But certainly still danger.
“Leave us, Ninki… You can finish dressing her when I am finished,” Nasira waved at the seamstress dismissively as she walked toward the nearby vanity. “Come,” she called to Azura gently, who followed after a moment.
“Your Grace,” Ninki bowed, and cast a glance in the direction of Azura that seemed apologetic before she turned to leave. It was no secret that Nasira was insufferable. That she treated most as if they were nothing at all - as if they were below her. To think that she might rule somewhere someday, given her blood, was a nightmarish notion. However, some part of Ninki looked forward to the day where she would no longer be around to torment court.
“Sit,” Nasira gestured toward the chair before the vanity. She had turned to face her, and was now moving toward the collection of cosmetics that had been readied for Azura.
Quietly, Azura took a seat, but never removed her eyes from Nasira. The lack of trust was a fire in her hazel iris, and a fixture on the position of her features.
With that smirk of a smile on her lips, one that indicated she knew far more than she would ever let on (and perhaps too much), Nasira reached for a cotton pad and an intricate crystal bottle. Gently, she dabbed its contents onto the pad so that it was saturated, and then moved toward Azura.
Nasria’s touch was expectedly tender as she began to run it across her high cheekbones, her brown eyes adhered to its path as her grin and demeanor became tranquil. “It had been terribly rude of me not to take the time to get to know you sooner,” she said as she finally broke the silence.
Again, those words were underhanded.
This time, Azura had to fight to not allow the displeasure to crease her features.
She was beginning to expect each interaction with Nasira would be nothing short of a test to her restraint – to her already limited patience.
“No worries,” Azura replied with a slight sigh through her nostrils. “I’m sure you are terribly busy,” she grinned. It was coated with that same inauthentic pleasantness that Nasira had slipped on, and to the surprise of the Princess, Azura appeared to be utilizing it quite well.
That was a jab.
In fact, it could easily be assumed that Nasira did little else in her day to day aside from sit around, look pretty, and be unpleasant.
Quietly, Nasira could almost admire Azura’s capability to keep up, if it wasn't a test of her status as the dominant power in the conversation. Often, many would become red-faced and aggravated, and depart the conversation before it could become truly interesting.
Perhaps she had finally met a worthy opponent at last…
But it was unlikely.
There was another bridge of silence as Nasira finished, and turned back toward the vanity. She then retrieved a glass container that contained some sort of cream, a special concoction used for moisturizing the skin made by the best cosmetic alchemist in all of the realm. Once the top was removed, she collected a small amount on her thumb, and applied it to Azura’s t-zone generously. She repeated the process once, and then placed the container aside before she began to massage it into Azura’s skin carefully.
“I do not envy you,” Nasira continued with a deep sigh. It was overdone, but it did not seem as though her words had been a lie. “If you are to succeed, you will be left to lead an empire that does not know you… There will be resistance from them, of course. The end of the battle will not mean the end of the war, either,” she mused as she massaged Azura’s face, and left it glowing as the lotion was absorbed into her skin. “If you do not succeed… Well…,” her lips pursed as she trailed off and feigned an air of remorse.
If she did not succeed?
She would likely die.
Azura was analyzing her scrutinously, and wondering what her motive was. Given the direction of the conversation, it felt as if she might be trying to scare her.
But why?
What game was she playing?
“I have a lot to learn,” Azura responded simply as Narisa pulled away from her. “But so does anyone else.” The sound of her own voice was almost unrecognizable as she held firmly onto her resolve. Ensuring she appeared as though she was unbothered even if perhaps – in some way – she was.
She’d heard this tone from herself before, typically when a customer thought it was humane to speak to her as if she was a slave — as though she were not a person at all. There were comparisons to be made here, all things considered. After all, she would need to change if she was ever going to be suitable for the future the Romadis family was painting for her.
There was much to learn.
“That is true,” Nasira replied with a thoughtful rise in her octave. It was coupled with a sideways glance cast in Azura’s direction as she quietly considered something, but kept it to herself. “You have beautiful skin… Perhaps only a bit of color correction under the eyes,” she stated as she reached for a golden compact on the vanity. Several like it were inspected before she settled on one, releasing a satisfactory sigh as she moved toward Azura once again.
“Thank you,” Azura finally acknowledged.
“Hmm?”
“For the compliment,” she added.
“Oh… Yes,” Nasira grinned as she collected some of the product on her pointer finger, and placed it just under Azura’s eyes. “The beautician does not use her fingers much, but the heat of them helps to melt cream into the skin… It aids it in blending seamlessly,” she shared idly, her delivery turned dreamy as she was focused on the application.
There was no response from Azura, there was no need for one. Despite her inability to completely relax in the presence of Nasira, this was oddly relaxing. The Princess was gentle, her voice was soothing even if it were coated in arrogance, and the scent of her perfume was lovely as it teased the senses.
It was all part of the game.
It was all a trap.
More silence came as Nasira finished what she was doing, and began to hum to herself as she searched for the eyeshadow palette she soon discovered. Now she reached for a brush, and whatever colors she chose were lost on Azura as her eyes fell closed.
“You do not talk much, do you?”
“I do, once I am comfortable.”
The words came from Azura quickly, departing her mout without passing through her filter - the feeble one that she had.
It forced Nasira to pause and simply look at the other woman just as her eyes slowly opened. She was only used to that sort of brusqueness from herself and her family, and she found it to be almost rude from someone like Azura.
From someone – in her mind – who was no one at all.
Her family may have invested some sort of unwarranted faith in her and the future she could bring, but Nasira expected little from someone born from the slums of the city. From a bastard child forgotten years ago, and left to rot in poverty by her own father. She was unrefined and uncouth, and if the way she flapped her tongue without restriction in the company of one of the most powerful women of all of Anagénn was any indication of her level of intelligence?
She was stupid.
However, Nasira simply released an amused exhale from her nose before resuming the careful application of a deep brown eyeshadow to the outer corner of her eyelid. She saw no need to make a fuss about one small comment.
Not yet.
“I suppose I don’t blame you… It certainly must not be enjoyable sleeping among strangers, and having to put your trust in them,” Nasira admitted.
That was the thing.
Azura did not trust them, and she expected they did not trust her either.
As far as their heads were lodged up their own assess, she did not expect they were stupid. In fact, a good monarch was a paranoid one – to an extent.
“A smart person doesn’t hand out trust easily,” Azura retorted after a moment. She figured she’d been open about her bluntness thus far, so there was no point in putting it back into its cage. There was also a part of her that wanted Nasira to know that she was not one of her puppets that she could not be manipulated, and that she didn’t intend to be either.
It was expected it might be aggravating for her, as Azura was certain she was used to those around her eating out of the palm of her hand, and doing so happily.
Nasira didn’t not immediately respond. Instead she worked quietly for an extended amount of time, and eventually gently nudged Azura’s chin to look toward the mirror. Slowly, her eyes opened, revealing the Princess’ effort. There was gold painted across her eyelids now, with perfectly blended shadows in the outer corner that had been sharpened in a feline point. That same black had been applied to her under eye, and it left her hazel eyes to pop even more than they already did. They were cast in the rays of the midday sun as they peered in from a window, and for a moment, Nasira found herself lost in their unique colors.
Hazel did not exist beyond Xetu, and more specifically, beyond the Zulandri family.
While Narisa wanted to believe that Azura was no one, there was something in her stare that emanated a quiet power.
Perhaps she would be proved wrong.
But it was unlikely.
“Now,” Nasira continued as she delicately touched Azura’s chin again to return her attention to her. “We must do something with your lips.”
----------------------------------------
Ninki was chasing behind Azura as she walked down the hall, fussing with the train of her gown so that it trailed behind her perfectly. There were many like it, with marble floors and intricately carved columns, and golden details swirling on alabaster surfaces. However, this one led to the Great Hall, which had been transformed for the special occasion that tonight was.
The Romadis family would publicly ally themselves with Azura.
Who would publicly declare herself an adversary for her own father.
A man she had never even met.
While she had heard nothing but terrible things about him since her arrival, some part of her still felt a sense of unease she could not shake. Azura valued perspective deeply, and she had only been shown it from the enemies of her father.
So, she was left to wonder if it were true, or if they were all terribly biased.
If she was being manipulated by his enemies to be turned against him.
It didn’t seem like the appropriate time to consider it all, given what was about to occur, and yet it seemed there had never been a more poignant occasion for these thoughts.
Suddenly, there was a tickle in her legs as she thought to flee, but that wasn’t exactly out of the ordinary. Any great leap in her life - a new job, a new venture, or even falling in love – was met with that same sensation.
With anxiety that told her to depart to where she knew it would be safe.
Alone.
It did help that she looked beautiful.
There was a mirror on the back of the great doors in front of her, and perhaps for the purpose of admiring oneself before making such a grand entrance. The gown had no sleeves, hugging the curves of her figure as if it were merely a second skin just before the skirts fanned outward around her legs. They blossomed like a blooming flower each time she offered a twirl, and she had done several once Ninki had finished putting it on her properly
For the first time, she truly did – annoyingly – feel like a princess.
The makeup Nasira had done certainly helped as well, she’d tied the look together with a nude lip so that Azura’s eyes remained a focal point. Their green and gold pairing wonderfully with the deep amethyst shade of her dress.
Her hair, which had taken nearly two hours, was fasted into intricate braids that crawled up either side of her head and eased into curls that fell down her back – a traditional Xetu style. There was a golden tiara resting on the top of her head, ensuring she not only felt as if she was a princess, but that she was presented as one as well.
There was no turning back now, was there?
Azura stared into her reflection and felt rather strange as she did not recognize herself. It left her to wonder of the months to come, and who she might become as they passed.
“Ladies and gentlemen, nobility of Anagénn…,” a voice called from the other side of the door.
“You will do wonderfully,” Ninki, an absurdly short woman, said at Azura’s right as she momentarily rose to the tips of her toes. Then, she offered her a deep smile, ensuring the many wrinkles on her features became prominent, and took one step backward.
Azura was watching her over her shoulder until the doors opened, and drew her attention forward.
“Princess Azura Alandris Zulandri… Future Domina of the Xetu Dominion!”
Azura felt her heart stop in her chest as she was met with the eyes of every man and woman who filled the room. While some looked at her with smiles, others were painted in skepticism, and some even appeared to be disgusted.
It was to be expected.
That she would not be loved by these people easily, or at all.
In reality, it was not something she even truly wanted.
In fact, as she stood there, frozen, she was beginning to wonder if she knew what she wanted at all.
“Go,” Ninki whispered too loudly next to her as she nudged her forward.
Slightly jolted by the gesture, Azura took a stuttering step but then began to move toward the staircase that awaited her. To calm her growing nerves, she simply looked ahead of her, and although it seemed as though she was meeting the gaze of the crowd, she was looking beyond them. Beyond King Teris and Queen Shatrina, poised on their thrones, who were directly ahead of her.
Quietly, she searched within herself for a sense of calm, and in her travels she accidentally found herself in the Corum. While she took delicate steps down the staircase, praying to the Gods that she would not slip and tumble down to the bottom, her eyes began to glow vibrantly. They shimmered with the magic she was only just discovering, and their aureate color bled onto the tops of her high cheekbones, complementing the golden shades on her eyelids brilliantly.
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It was then an excited murmur washed over the crowd, nobles roused into a flurry of exchanged whispers as Azura reached the foot of the staircase. She attempted to drown them out as best as she was able, fearing that what she might hear would crumble the last bit of her steadily diminishing confidence.
However, in an attempt to appear as though she was not so afraid, she allowed her gaze to wander slightly. First it found Nasira, who wore the same arrogant and mischievous smile that Azura was discovering was her trademark. It then landed on Oris, who stood next to a woman that was expectedly his future wife - the future Queen. She was a blond beauty dressed in silver and turquoise, who seemed – by the look in her eyes – to be slightly terrified.
But of what?
Azura was entirely unaware of the intensity she harbored and weaponized in a single stare. Many had never seen magic of her magnitude wielded with such ease, and for it to be done effortlessly.
So thoughtlessly,that she did not even realize it was happening.
Finally, at Oris’ side, she found Cyrus. His features were set in their typical stoic positioning until their gazes connected, and he presented her with the smallest tug at the corner of his lips before he bowed his head. Over the last month, he had begun to pick fun at the fact that she hated the titles she would now be forced to wear. Which was why he carefully mouthed the word ‘princess’ as his smirk bloomed into a taunting smile.
Annoyingly, Azura could not help the gentle grin that crawled across her lips in response, but she smothered it away as she reached the foot of Teris and Shatrina.
It was good to have a friend here.
Or something like that.
It took a moment, and an awkward sweeping of silence over the crowd, but Azura realized why nothing was happening.
Shit.
After gripping the skirts of her dress, Azura dipped into a curtsy that was quite clearly not practiced – or not practiced enough. “King Teris… Queen Shatrina,” she greeted them both as she bowed her head.
There was something that bordered on disapproval that lingered beneath Teris’ level expression, but he released whatever it might have become in a sigh from his nose – a nose that matched the one that could be found on his son’s features. While he did wish Azura was more refined, or overall better suited for the position they hoped to place her in, he did not intent to fuss over the details.
She was a greater asset to them than she realized, and it was best kept that way.
Gradually, Teris rose from his throne, and walked toward Azura, but he did not descend the steps to bring him down from his pedestals. Azura did not intend to lift her head until she was addressed, just as she had been told to. As much of a mess as she had a tendency to be in her day to day, she was beginning to grasp when etiquette mattered.
When she should take all of this seriously.
“Princess Azura… Sole heir of the Xetu empire, and future… and first… independently ruling Domina of the Xetus Dominion,” Teris began. “You may spring from humble beginnings, but I have known those born from all walks of life, and I firmly believe that it is not where you come from… But what you accomplish on your path forward,” he continued as his hands settled in front of him, fingers doused in expensive rings entwining together. The tone of his voice was deep and commanding, holding wisdom of all that he had seen – all that he had done.
“It is not unknown to me that we put a great pressure on your shoulders… That you wade through waters that are foreign to you entirely… But I, and my father before me, have dreamed of an Anathema that knows peace… The same peace the Romadis family has brought to all of Anagénn,” he looked away from Azura then, offering a glance toward the crowd as a proud smile rose to his lips. “You have much to learn, Princess, and the road ahead will be ripe with trial upon trial… But as long as a Xetus under your rule will be an ally to Anagénn, then you will always find an ally in the Romadis family,” Teris affirmed with a slow nod of his head.
Azura had returned her gaze to him as soon as he began to speak, and she found herself captivated by his aura – by the words that he said. There was something about him, even though he did not possess it as far as she was aware, that seemed to be magic in its own right.
Although she had heard the stories of him and battles he had won, she had dismissed most of it. Often, tales and songs would favor the ruler the performer was ruled by, and paint them to be so much more than they ever truly could have been.
Standing here now, however, left Azura to wonder if there might just be some truth to it all.
“Swear to me, King of all of Anagénn, that you and your descendants will be an ally to my own, and to my kingdom… That to aid you in your ascension to Domina will be the first step in bringing peace to all of Anathema once and for all.” Teris’ demeanor became almost threatening as he inclined his chin, and burned holes into Azura with potency of the way his gaze clung to her own.
Steadily, she met it, staring up at him and wondered once again…
Was this a mistake?
Was this the first step on a path she did not truly wish to traverse?
In her peripherals, she could feel Cyrus as he watched her. Silently, some part of him wished there were a scenario where she could decline this oath, but much the same as him for as long as he could remember…
She had no choice.
The Romadis family could cloak anything in finery and good intentions, but those who could truly see would peer right through that mask.
Azura was terribly observant.
Terribly intuitive.
Which was why something in the pit of her stomach was whispering that this glorious offer was not all that it seemed to be.
Still.
What choice did she have?
She inhaled a deep breath as her posture stiffened, and the shimmer of her golden iris burned like a metallic blaze.
“I swear to you, your descendants, and to all of Anagénn and Xetus… To bring peace to all of Anathema.”
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It was terrible.
Azura had been made to socialize all evening, and even forced to dance with men who seemed to have the depth of a very shallow hole.
Although she had been warned of an eventual great battle, that was not what she feared most.
It was this.
To be trapped within the walls of a castle and be left mingle with nobility and pretended as if she gave a flying fart about the things they had to say.
A better alternative was to find something very high to jump from and hope the impact of her landing put her into a final slumber.
That it provided sweet release.
“Princess,” Oris said as he approached her, and offered a bow.
Azura was in the midst of taking a deep drink of wine while he approached, and uncouthly went to speak into her glass. “Prince-,” she stopped when the rush of her breath forced some of the liquid to sputter.
Gods.
She did wonder if she might get through an interaction with the man without looking like an absolute fool.
It was unlikely.
“Prince Oris..,” Azura continued. “Are you enjoying the party?” She asked with a tone that was subtly sarcastic, but not to the point where it could not be registered.
“Are you?” He inquired with a raised inflection that indicated he had read her undertone, and well. She’d been utilizing her trademark derision all evening long, in fact, and it had gone over the heads of most. The majority responded with a wrinkled nose as they wondered if she was touched in the head, or had indulged in too much wine.
“I don’t think my response will be what you’re hoping to hear,” she retorted, calling back to her choice of words earlier on the balcony.
Oris laughed in response, shaking his head as his gaze wandered to his betrothed, who was watching him carefully. She had done little more than whisper of the displeasure she felt toward Azura’s presence all evening, and he had tried to reassure her that she was nothing to be feared.
Unfortunately, the unintentional display of her magic had done a good job of instilling a certain level of fear in those that attended the party.
Of showing court just a fraction of what she was capable of.
Capabilities even she was not yet familiar with.
“You look beautiful, if it is any consolation,” he added nonchalantly. It was perhaps meant to be platonic, but the energy from the dance earlier that day had shifted the chemistry between them into something that hummed with hear – like the embers of the beginnings of a blaze.
Azura tried to remind herself that it was probably commonplace for him. That one of his favorite activities was likely wooing the many women who came and went from court. So, she also reminded herself that she had no intention of being added to that list. Especially now that she could place a face to his soon-to-be wife. A woman who had been glaring at her all evening, but not in a way that harbored resentment or anger, in a way that appeared to be… frightened.
What she was afraid of?
Azura had not the slightest idea.
Although she did not know her, she felt she did not have a threatening presence.
Not unless her temper was triggered.
“Th-ank… y-ou,” Azura responded awkwardly.
The unsteadiness of it made Oris smirk, as he did enjoy flustering an attractive woman to occupy his spare time – which was something he would admit shamelessly. What he did not know, however, is that her unsteadiness was not due to his good looks and charm, but because she consisted of primarily anxious thoughts.
It was a joy being Azura, truly.
“You… are… welcome,” Oris returned with a forced pause between each of his words, an attempt to be playful that seemingly worked as Azura laughed. There was a momentary pause afterward where he inhaled a sharp breath, considered something briefly, and then spoke again. “Would you like to dance, Princess?”
Azura’s eyes widened, and she opted to bridge the silence that followed by topping off her drink.
Could she say no?
Would it rude?
Would it be wise?
This whole courtly etiquette shit was a bunch of bullshit.
Hesitantly, Azura placed her glass on the table next to her, and then offered Oris her hand. “Of course,” she finally replied.
While it was not uncommon for individuals to dance together at a ball, and even those they were not romantically entwined with – or intended to be. Every pair of eyes within the Great Hall was adhered to Oris and Azura as they made their way to the heart of the dancefloor. Particularly those of Queen Shatrina, who leaned into her husband so she could whisper into his ear.
“Watch your son, Aheil,” she cooed as she kept her eyes ahead.
Teris did not reply, but he did smile. Suddenly, Oris was always ‘his son’ when he was doing something he potentially should not. However, and it was something he and Shatrina did not agree on, he did not see the harm in Oris getting acquainted with Azura. Teris was an ambitious man, as all kings tended to be, and there were few bonds greater than those of matrimony.
There were few means to bind Anagénn and Xetus in the same way that a joining of man and wife could.
While Oris was already promised to a Narron Princess, they were constantly at war with Isorath, and Queen Ranga was a mighty force to combat. It was the reason why they had yet to defeat her, and they hoped that Anagénn would aid them in that effort.
Teris had made no such promises when he agreed to the betrothal.
Teris, would have no fear in insulting them by breaking that betrothal in favor of something better suited.
After all, he had met the Rathian Queen, and he had a great respect for her as a commander, a ruler, and a warrior.
If she was a man, he might just send Nasira to her, and ally with those who had conquered the seas - those who ruled over them.
“I am, my love,” Teris finally replied.
“Do you remember what I taught you?” Oris inquired as he took her hand, and raised it with his own.
“Oh I’ve had plenty of practice all night long, haven’t you seen?” Azura joked.
Humor was the best of coping mechanisms, was it not?
Oris chuckled, but didn’t reply. Instead, his hand gravitated to the small of her back just as her rested on his shoulder. “Let us hear the music of my mother’s people,” he called to the band, and whatever they had been playing came to an abrupt stop. In no time at all, it was followed by a new and sultry tune. One that, as Oris had promised, sought to make a home in Azura’s hips as their feet began to move.
No.
She had not practiced these dances all evening.
She had stuck to the Anish ways and many of her partners had been terribly stiff.
Oris, was not stiff.
Fluidly, they began to move in that same easy synchronicity they had adapted in the balcony. It brought a gradually blooming smile to each of their faces as they soon forgot the room around them, and all the eyes in it that were adhered to them. Then, when he twirled her away from, and the skirts of her dress fanned outward, they erupted in a miraculous gold.
Ninki was a master of her art.
Purple and gold were the colors of the Zulandri family, and the phoenix was their animal. It was due to the fact that long ago, they had been removed from their throne, but they rose from the ashes, and reclaimed it. It was why the beast could be seen chasing up Azura’s right side, a subtle detail that was once etched in onyx thread, but had come alive with the same golden shades that now decorated her skirt.
Everyone was watching them.
A rumble of excitement washed over the crowd as Oris left her to linger as she was so he could admire her, and when he pulled her back him he took her hand as they pressed against one another intimately.
Perhaps if the timid woman he was not promised to did not stand in such contrast to her, Oris would not be so drawn to Azura. However, it was not merely the fact that she was one of the most exciting prospects to cross his path, but if she became Domina…
Their children could rule over all of Anathema.
Their legacy would make history.
Although he was not yet a king, the ambition of one had been ingrained into his brain for as long as he could remember.
He had been brainwashed to desire all that the world could offer and so much more.
Azura was more.
“Thank you,” Azura said softly after a collection of silent seconds, “for the dance.”
----------------------------------------
Eventually, Azura had found a moment to be alone. The Romadian Palace was perched on the coastline, and it had many balconies that overlooked the Anish Sea. They had become places that Azura enjoyed immensely, especially those that were unoccupied so she could be alone with her thoughts.
The crowd had been abuzz after her dance with Oris, and while she wanted to write it off as the expected womanizing tendencies of a royal, there was an intensity in his eyes that had burned with something she couldn’t quite place. It was not simply desire or lust, but a hunger for things beyond her understanding. At times, she wished she had someone to guide her here. Not in the same way that Isana was meant to as they forged her into a weapon, but to help her navigate this foreign social climate.
The games of royals.
She had never even been interested in politics over the years, and to now be planted in the center of the board as a pawn…
She could not help but feel lost.
Unfortunately, something in her said quietly that she could not let them see just how out of her depth she was.
That she could not let them see her weak.
Thankfully, that was an ideal she had always lived by.
So that was nothing new.
“Princess,” a voice greeted from behind her, but it was far too close for her taste.
While her distracting thoughts might have been to blame, it was unnerving that he had come so close to her without her noticing. Without that expected tickle on the back of her neck when someone entered the room, or the shift in the air as their presence corrupted the previously untainted atmosphere.
Slowly, Azura looked over her shoulder, but she did not recognize who she saw. He was blonde, rugged, or perhaps weathered, and his eyes appeared to be charcoal in shade. Given night had arrived to replace the day, it would be hard to truly tell unless she moved closer.
Which she did not intend to do.
Following a brief scan of his form, she noticed that herappeared to be… underdressed? At least in comparison to everyone else in attendance at the ball. As much as she hated that it did, it left her suspicious. Not because she would look down on him, but because she wondered how someone of lower standing had arrived here.
Oh, the irony.
“Yes?” Azura replied hesitantly as she turned to properly face him.
“I am sorry to disturb you… But I have been searching for the opportunity to approach you all evening,” he continued. Due to the way that he spoke, he seemed well educated - noble despite his presentation. There was also an accent that she could not place, a sign that he was from somewhere beyond Anagénn.
“Why is that?” Azura inquired as her spine stiffened subtle, a thoughtless guard holding her demeanor hostage as her eyebrows shifted into a subtly focused furrow.
“Well… I am from Xetus… Born and raised in the golden city of Xeritas,” he admitted as he took one step forward. However, when her eyes drifted to his feet, and slipped into a suspicious narrow, he came to a stop.
Perhaps, if she had been properly swayed by all she had been told about her father, she would have quickly jumped to a deeper level of distrust. Fortunately for him, she was intrigued by the revelation due to the doubts she’d been wrestling with most recently – tonight more than ever before.
“How did you find yourself here?” She questioned as the arch of her eyebrow increased.
He paused then, his hands settling behind his back as he cleared his throat, and thought over what he might say before he said it. “I was sent here,” he stated plainly.
“Sent here?”
“Yes.”
Azura could feel a sense of unease creeping its way within her, curling its fingers around her and aiming to take hold of her train of thought. Perhaps she should have expected that this might happen, that she would find herself in the midst of a political tug-of-war – literally.
Unfortunately, there were several things she had not considered when she made the impulsive decision to come here. She could blame it on lingering heartbreak, from him, and the new one caused by her mother, but it did not mean it was any less stupid.
Excuses were not justification.
They were only explanation.
“By who?”
The question hung in the air as something in him shited. While he had approached with an aura of lightheartedness, it seemed to be gradually evaporating from him.
It was a mask he was not sure if he should or could lift.
But it seemed he had no choice, or he did not care.
“Your father,” he declared firmly.
While some part of her had expected that response, it did not soften the impact of it. With each passing day, reality was becoming increasingly… real. New knowledge was being hurled at her at a debilitating speed before she even had the time to digest the previous onslaught.
She had been kidding herself to believe this night would be nothing more than dances and conversation.
She had been awfully naive, hadn’t she?
This was not a dream, but it was certainly time for her to wake up.
“Why?” Azura questioned as her tone took on a new tightness.
The man’s chin raised as a silent breath was pulled through his nose, and again considered how he would continue. There was a reason he had been sent, of all people. He could not just defend himself and cling to the shadows, moving seamlessly within them, but he was good with his words.
He could persuade sweets from a child, or the coin purse from a whore, Zelarin had often remarked.
“Because you are his daughter… Dominess Azura, and until very recently he believed that both you and your mother were dead… He believed himself to be childless after the recent loss of his son, and the news that you breath… Has given him hope,” he stepped forward once more as he finished speaking.
Again, Azura looked toward his feet in a silent warning that he should not continue his approach.
“Come with me, Dominess… Come with me to the home that has always been yours, your father, Dominus Zelarin, awaits you eagerly,” he beckoned as he reached out to her, but did not step closer once again.
Azura could only stare at him, stuck in a war within her head between two parts of herself. On one hand, she wondered what it might be like to leave with this stranger now, and on the other…
Would it be a mistake to betray the Romadis family?
Would it be a mistake to trust her father?
“Please, my Dominess,” he said with growing impatience. “You must come with me.”
Must?
What a poor choice of words on his part.
Azura’s mother had always said there was nothing in the world more stubborn than Azura Alandris.
Or Zulandria.
Whatever the fuck.
“Dominess-”
“Stop calling me that,” Azura hissed as she quietly centered herself. Searching for the Corum to draw upon its power…
Then.
She searched for elsewhere.
For the Igi.
For that endless green and the beckoning hand of her ancestor...
I call upon the Spirits of the Earth.
----------------------------------------
“Cyrus, brother,” Oris greeted as he approached him. “I’ve hardly seen you all evening.”
He was lodged in a corner, observing the celebration quietly. In fact, he had observed his dance with Azura not long before, and then watched her as she departed to the balcony. He had considered checking in on her at some point, but he knew how she was doing. From what he’d learned of her in the last month, this night had probably been insufferable from beginning, and would be until the end. Dancing and socializing with strangers, and left to be the center of attention of a crowd of individuals she did not like, or care to.
She would have to get used to it, and he was not her savior.
She did not need one, and he did not desire to be one either.
“You and I both know I don’t belong at these events,” Cyrus replied with disinterest. His eyes did not even slip to where Oris stood, but remained fixated on the crowd as he stared beyond them, lost in his own head.
“You are royal as much as I am,” Oris rebutted as his eyebrows creased slightly. Recently, he had noticed Cyrus had fallen into one of his ‘moods’. For a time, he could be pleasant to be around, and seemingly content with his life in the palace. Until he slipped into the other side of who he was - discontent and resentful.
No, he was not oblivious as to why he might feel that way. The circumstances of his presence here were not unknown to him, and at times he felt sorry for him – as much as he was able. Unfortunately, that was not much at all. The way he’d been raised, far from the worst parts of the world, had left him sheltered.
Had left him ignorant.
It was not willful, not entirely. He just saw little reason to try to understand. To try to walk in another pair of shoes when the ones he wore were the best that money could buy.
Oris was a product of circumstance, just the same as anyone else.
“Funny… You only remind me of that when it serves your current motive,” Cyrus countered as his eyes finally sought out Oris.
The two of them stared at one another quietly as those words hung in the space between them, forcing it to thicken until it could be grasped. While Oris did not have a short temper, he certainly had one. It was simply that he was not without his patience.
However, when it did run out?
It was so very difficult to find it once again.
When he referred to Cyrus as his brother, he meant it. They had essentially been raised side-by-side, and he did care for him in some way. Despite that, there were lines he could not cross that his true family could leap over if he wished - things he could not do that a true brother would be able to do.
In that moment, Cyrus stood just beyond the line, staring at it longingly.
In truth?
He had likely been eyeing it for years now.
“What is your problem, Cyrus?”
“I have none.”
That was a lie.
He had several.
If he were to sit and name them all, they might find themselves having this conversation for a while.
“You lie,” Oris stepped forward as his jaw feathered. “Is it the Princess, hmm? Have you caught feelings for her, and I have begun to… encroach upon your territory?” He smirked in a manner that was antagonizing, and unintentionally so. It was merely the result of his arrogance, and the way he donned it effortlessly. Oris did not really expect it was about Azura, as Cyrus was not a man to attach himself to women. What he expected, was that it was far deeper than that, he had just long wondered when it would finally come out into the open.
“She is not my territory to encroach upon, Oris,” Cyrus snapped as he turned to walk away from him, but was stopped when his arm was gripped. Not only had his tone been insulting, but so had the very pointed lack of title. Although he would not mind it in a more relaxed setting, he did not appreciate it when it was used as a weapon.
“We are not finished speaking-”
“Yes-,” Cyrus snatched his arm away from him, “-we are.” His eyes began to glow vibrantly as he held the Prince’s gaze. While they were perhaps evenly matched in a spar, Prince Oris did not possess magic the way Cyrus did.
There was no one else alive who did.
Unbeknownst to them both, Teris was watching from his throne. The question of when the arrangement with Cyrus would run dry had been raised several times among his council. Teris had always defended him, but even he had begun to see the way his discontent had become louder and louder each passing year.
One could not live as a hostage happily.
Not one born for great things as Cyrus had been.
It was times like this, when painful choices were presented to him, that Teris fantasized of simpler existences. Of a life where his every breath did not dictate the entire future of Anagénn.
As he had always told his son, as he had always told Cyrus, it was best not to dream.
Dreams distracted from reality.
They were momentary escapes that one could become lost in - become addicted to - if they were not careful.
Fortunately, as Oris went to open his mouth and say something he would regret, a crack erupted from the same balcony Cyrus had seen Azura depart to after her most recent dance. Which was why — without another word to Oris – he broke into a sprint to find the source of the sound.
The crowd within the Great Hall had begun to panic as the ground beneath them seemed to tremble, some of them even beginning to flee toward the exit to escape what they believed to be impending danger.
“The doors,” Queen Shatrina said to a nearby guard as she rose from her seat. “Please… I am certain there is nothing to fear… Remain calm,” she spoke to the crowd as her stare ventured to Oris. In an unspoken command, she offered him a nod, and he replied with one of his own. Then, without hesitation, he followed Cyrus to the balcony.
All the while, the guards that had been collected in the Great Hall to police the celebration, moved to bar the exits as commanded. Many nobles quickly responded in outrage, and voiced it loudly. Alas, the royal family could not have panicked individuals running about the palace freely, and so until the source of the commotion was discovered, they would remain exactly where they were.
When Cyrus arrived on the balcony, he was surprised by what he saw. The floor had been cracked open, and a fist forged from the earth had broken through, reaching toward a man who was taking unsteady steps backward.
“You’ve overstayed your welcome… And now you must go,” Azura sneered as the fist lurched toward him. Her voice had shifted. It sounded as if it was not just her own, but many tones of many people - both male and female.
Her ancestors in the Igi, giving them her power.
Dodging to the side, the man’s eyes flickered toward Cyrus, who was now joined by Oris. “Shit,” he said under his breath before he turned, and fled through the secondary doorway. As he began to shove his way through the crowd, women shrieked in surprise. Some of which were knocked off of their balance, and fell toward the floor dramatically.
“Seize him!” Shatrina commanded as she pointed a hand in his direction. In an immediate response, the guards began to scramble after him, ensuring the commotion was made so much worse. The panicking partygoers even stood to be an obstacle as they tried to traverse the crowd. Forcing guards to resort to rough shoves to properly clear a path.
Cyrus, with only a short glance passed to Azura, took off into a sprint. Far ahead of the royal guard, he was firmly on the tail of whoever the man was. “Stop! There is nowhere to run!” He barked.
Oris, on the other hand, had paused. He had looked over Azura as golden veins tattooed her features, and considered asking if she was alright. However, it seemed even if he and Cyrus had not arrived, that she would have handled herself just fine.
Frantically, his gaze flickered from her, to the fist that was slowly retracting into the earth, and then he followed behind Cyrus without a word. He was admittedly distracted, he had never seen such a grand display of magic so close.
It seemed he had no idea just what she was capable of…
Meanwhile, Cyrus swept through the halls in his pursuit. His breathing turned into exasperated huffs even as he showed no signs of slowing down. In fact, he was catching up, and just as he was within arms length, he tackled him to the ground. On contact, the two of them rolled a few steps. Then, Cyrus gripped his shoulders, and slammed him into the ground. It was followed by a handful of punches that brought a crunch from his nose, just before he gripped his collar and pulled him close.
“Who are you?”
The response was an unseen force that sent him backward, and a silver hue that corrupted the man’s iris.
A Xetu?
The thought crossed Cyrus’ mind as he was propelled into a wall behind him. The impact knocking the wind from him and forcing him to gasp involuntarily. While he regained his bearings, vines rose from the cracks in the floor and sought to restrain the assailant.
As the man tried to fight against them, he realized who exactly Cyrus was. “It’s you,” he said as he pulled free of their ensnarement, his voice strained from the effort. “You who does not belong here either… And yet you work as their dog.”
Suddenly the vines came to a stop as Cyrus lost his focus.
He knew who he was?
“Who the fuck are you?” Cyrus demanded as he began to push himself to his feet. In the background, the sound of the approaching guard could be heard rattling down the hallways.
“Who are you? Cyrus, Prince of Zatria?” He replied cryptically as he retrieved a vial from his pocket, uncorked it, and shattered against the ground.
There was a rush of white smoke, and then he was gone.
Leaving Cyrus alone as he rose to his feet.
“Master Cyrus,” the guard huffed as he approached. “Where has he gone?”
“He vanished,” he replied as his gaze lingered on the location he had disappeared from. “He is Magic… A Xetu,” Cyrus added as he turned to look at the guard.
“A Xetu? Here?”
“Yes… It seems we have to reevaluate the security of the palace.”