Every night could seem like a celebration if your eyes were kept closed.

If you merely listened to the sounds of happiness as they danced with the music and the moving bodies of courtiers. .

The Great Hall was often packed to the brim most evenings. It reminded Azura of the stalls in Central City on any given night. When the sun went down they became vibrant with life, and all the worries of the day were washed away with the arrival of the moon. There were countless memories of losing herself in that reckless sense of freedom, and they were resurfacing as she sat perched upon the dias alongside the royal family.

Azura missed home.

She missed her family, her friends, and even though she had reasoned with herself to know it was just a typical side effect of healing from heartbreak, she missed him too – even if she no longer wished to.

Most of all, she missed her mother.

The anger she had felt about the years of lies had subsided as she unveiled more about her father’s people, and as she felt her metamorphosis coming on far too quickly to be comprehended, she just wished to talk to her. Of all the people who had come and gone from her life, and the ones that had stayed, there had never been anyone she felt she could open up to like she could her mother.

Even then.

There was still so much she did not know.

Still so much she kept hidden away for fear of scaring her just the same as everyone else.

“Princess,” Oris greeted as he took the vacated seat next to Azura. It had once been occupied by his sister, Nasira, but she was busy soaking up attention in the center of the dancefloor now. There was hope that she might pose as bait and finally hook that great catch, but from where she was sitting, Azura could tell she was simply playing with them.

At her age, she had done the same.

Ah how she missed those carefree days…

“Oh, my mistake… Dominess,” Oris laughed as he corrected himself, and seemed to drift away into a thought for a moment.

Whatever that thought was, it urged his grin to deepen, so Azura expected something had amused him. Though she might typically wonder why, she wasn’t particularly in the mood to pry. So instead, she raised an eyebrow at him, but neglected to respond as her lips were occupied by the wine she raised to reach them. She enjoyed a deep sip as her eyes wandered back to the rumbling crowd, and then placed the glass delicately back on the table. “Was there more to that thought... Or?”

“Well… Yes,” he laughed again, but it was more reserved than the first. Still it was careless and untidy, unlike the structured way he typically carried himself. “How long have you been here? Nearly two months and you are not yet accustomed to the forms of address,” Oris arched a brow at her, and while the lightness of his tone implied it was meant to be teasing more than anything…

Azura was not amused.

There it was.

That switch that could flick inside of her all too easily.

It was not this interaction alone that was the trigger, she had noticed it had been on the verge for the past two weeks. The problem was, regardless of how self aware she was, she could not stop it. She could try to reason with herself and talk down the nagging voices in her head, but they were as stubborn as she was — they would not listen.

So, eventually they would win.

Eventually they would rise to the surface and unleash on those around her even if she wished they wouldn’t. .

While no one could blame her, given all that had been dropped on her plate in the last two months, it was not an excuse.

She hated herself when she got like this.

She hated it even more that she could not stop it.

It was all only made worse as her sessions with Isana became more intense. As she dug deeper into memories and parts of herself her mother had fought desperately to suppress. With each new layer unveiled, she began to understand why she had been lied to.

Why things were better that way.

There was hope that by the end of this metamorphosis, that she would become a beautiful butterfly, but Azura was beginning to feel as though something else might emerge from the cocoon she had called home for far too long.

Something that perhaps should have stayed there.

“Where is your soon-to-be wife… Aren’t you two supposed to be dancing or something?” Azura inquired in a tone that was plainfully listless. She was trying to make conversation to avoid being rude, but she had already been fighting the tickling urge in her legs that wanted her to return to the halfhearted sanctuary that was her room.

Oris was only making it worse.

It was not that he was unpleasant company, as he was often kinder than she had expected, but in her current state everyone was an annoyance – even if they were a kind one.

“I have danced enough,” Oris said dismissively as he waved a hand at a nearby attendant, summoning a drink for himself. “And you… Has any of the noble Anish men in these walls caught your eye, Dominess? …Or are you a one man type of woman?” He leaned forward and spoke into her ear as his voice became a taunting whisper. It appeared his mood was rather playful, and it was clashing with Azura’s currently increased disdain for existence and those within it.

Still, slowly. she turned to look at him as the width of her eyes widened just enough to convey her surprise. Only for them to narrow seconds afterward as it was suffocated by overbearing annoyance.

How did he know?

Had his mother told him?

Or had the walls simply talked?

The glare she cast in his direction and her silence spoke volumes, and so did that flickering glow in the golden specks that lived in her multicolored iris. He had noticed that the longer she was here, the more her eyes would evolve, and seemingly, so would the rest of her. It was obvious that there was something between them. There was something charged in their shared aura when they were in the same space, and he had often caught the way their gazes would linger on one another. To say that he was curious as to what had them drifting together as if they were magnetized was an understatement. Blame it on the spoiled upbringing of a royal, but he was not used to shiny things being placed in front of him that he could not touch – that did not want to be touched by him.

Even though he had enjoyed a few too many drinks throughout the night, he was not entirely oblivious to the damper on her mood. There was an energy about her tonight that did not match the woman he had become subtly acquainted with, and he was eager to investigate the other side of the coin that she was — or the one that she was becoming.

After an extended connection of their stares, Oris eventually released another laugh, and then allowed his eyes to wander to his betrothed. He could feel the burn of her gaze on him even as she tried to occupy herself with senseless chatter. The sound of their last disagreement about the Dominess ringing out in the back of his inebriated thoughts before he returned his attention to the woman herself.

She thought she was dangerous.

He wanted to find out if it were true.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of… When you rule over Xetus, there will be a whole council of individuals assigned to ensure your exploits are your own,” he said nonchalantly as he relaxed into his chair. There was a slowness to his speech and droop to his eyelids that revealed his inebriated state, something that had been more frequent since his betrothed had arrived. That languid leer drifted to the delivered tankard, but he offered no thank you to the attendant that bowed before they departed.

They were not people to him, to any of the Romadis family. It bothered Azura, and it was why she was so perplexed that he cared to speak to her at all – that he cared for what she had to say when they would speak. The expectation was that he might be more like his sister, looking down his nose at her as he judged her silently, and smirking at her social missteps.

She knew why, in part. She knew there was something that he wanted, but she was not flattered. She knew that she was just a shiny thing he wished to curl into his grasp, and toss aside once the luster was dulled by the grease of his greedy palms.

Her opinion of the Romadis family was not high, despite all that they had given her. While they expected she was likely to naive to understand it, she knew that their generosity came at a price.

That she would be indebted to them, and they wanted it that way.

“I certainly do not judge you for it… I only wished to know if your eye was anchored, or if it would still wander,” Oris continued as he watched her meaningfully now, his words trailing off in a sleepy and suggestive manner.

Azura did not look at him, she had no interest in encroaching on the territory of a Princess of Narr. While they had continually failed to conquer the Queen of Isorath over the last handful of decades, she was certainly no Rathian Warrior chosen by the gods.

In truth, she didn’t understand why Oris chose to be so open about his flirtation. While she had initially thought it was merely a part of his princely nature, it had begun to feel as though he wished to antagonize his future wife.

But why?

For the time being, Azura was still no one. There was even still a very large chance that she would always be no one. That she would never rise beyond a fluke in their reign that would crumble under the pressure of the future they presented – one that still seemed to be an unattainable impossibility.

Alas, she had long forgone any attempt to understand the mental process of a man. She did not think it was the job of a woman to comprehend them, and she did not envy those who would always foolishly try despite countless failed attempts to.

In fact, she often expected they did not even understand themselves.

“My eye isn’t looking for a place to land,” Azura replied as she finally turned her head to look at him again. There was a tug at the corner of her mouth that might have come off as flirtatious, but it was just an attempt to appear as though she wasn’t hating this interaction as much as she truly was.

The call of her room was louder with each passing moment.

Only second to the cries of her home and those she had left behind in it.

The response brought a smile to Oris’ lips as he reached for his drink, and took a generous swig that bordered on sloppy. It was followed by a clumsy placement of the tankard back on the table, before the hand that once grasped it raised to wipe the back of its palm across his mouth.

He was absolutely sloshed.

“I am surprised… I’ll be honest, I thought it had already touched down,” Oris retorted and then watched her once again. Taking note of the way she fought against the urge in her eyes to allow them to roll, and the swift redirection of her attention away from him. “I’m not merely being an ass-”

“Could have fooled me,” Azura scoffed, but let out a laugh that was indeed genuine.

She often laughed at her own jokes.

It ensured someone always did.

“Your Grace…,” he leaned in closely again as he released a quiet chuckle. “If you have not noticed, I am far more accustomed to the games of court… I only mean to imply how your current… circumstances appear to the rest of us,” Oris explained, punctuating what he seemed to believe was an attempt at some twisted form of compassion with a long exhale.

Gods.

He was just as much of a cunt as his sister, wasn’t he?

“Why does it matter… This won’t be my court,” Azura replied as she took another sip of her wine. Gradually, her tone was losing bits of that spiteful fire as she became increasingly exhausted with the conversation.

She missed talking about nonsense with Sarai and Meeshan, and listening to Creshlin rant about his conspiracy theories to end the night.

Here, everything that she said, everything that she did, held weight.

It all carried potential for consequence.

“You are correct,” Oris shrugged as he gripped the handle of his tankard and raised it in her direction prior to another hearty swig. “But do you know who he is… Dominess… Who he truly is?” He inquired with an impish narrow to his eyes before it surveyed the crowd, looking for the man in question. Cyrus had expectedly slunk off into the shadows some time ago, unable to stomach the artificial merriment occupying the Great Hall for very long at all.

Again, Azura said nothing, but there was a new simmer of interest in her gaze as it ventured toward him. Her silent stare speaking of all the things her closed lips kept to herself.

“Would you like to know?”

----------------------------------------

The battle was over, but it was only the beginning.

Wars could span over decades.

Centuries.

The Vesshire Empire had been quietly conquering all that was around them with each passing year. They would infiltrate, slipping through the cracks of what was once believed to be impenetrable loyalty, and turn a kingdom from the inside out.

Zerinthiya had no desire to see Zatria fall to their will.

Not after all it had suffered over the last half a decade.

“We will fight… We will fight as our people always have, and we will win-”

“We have suffered much in this war Aan… How can I condemn my people to suffer further due to my own selfishness?” Zerinthiya’s neck strained with the passion of the question as her green iris ignited in a fire. Beyond, the great wings of Saphir could be heard as the creature released a mournful call to his companion, sharing her pain as it always did. She could feel in their heart that they were tired, and so was she.

So was Zatria.

For one month they had believed it was over.

That they would know peace at last.

Zerinthiya should have known the vultures would come for the scraps, and Zatria was weak.

“Selfishness?” Aan scoffed as a growl ripped from his core and forcefully turned away from her. He was a hulking, towering, animal of a man. His hair was onyx as it fell beyond his shoulders, and wild like the maine of a lion that stalked the jungles of Zatria. While he was not gaunt and stoic like many of their people, his skin was pale just the same as most Tehtians – a shade Cyrus had inherited. It was in contrast with the deep honeyed hue of Zerithiya’s skin, as if she was kissed by the sun before she emerged into the world from her mother’s womb.

“If I do not give into their demands they will descend upon Zatria… They will burn its jungles and all that calls them home…,” her eyelids fluttered as her voice wavered with emotion.

Aan hated to see her like this.

In his eyes, she was strength incarnate.

She dove headfirst as any obstacle that came her way and burned it away to ash.

He had never met anyone so strong in all of his life.

Not even the master he bowed to.

“Not if we stop them-”

“How can I?” Zerinthiya’s voice boomed throughout the chamber and flora flourished from the many cracks between the stones the walls were composed of. Recklessly, the earth beneath her bloomed as agony thudded in her heart and spilled into her every syllable. “If Zatria burns then so will I! These lands, Zote, they are everything! They are all that I have-”

There was a twinge of regret as she watched the way the words wounded Aan.

A flicker of pain forced him to blink before his posture stiffened.

Zerinthiya loved Aan, wholly and completely, but he was Tehtian.

As Queen of Zatria – as Fiora…

She had a duty to perform.

She was a servant to her people before all else.

“That is all you have?” Aan asked quietly, his tone softer than she had become accustomed to. It was often ripe with strength and conviction, but it seemed those words had taken the power from them – from him.

She did not wish to hurt him.

She was breaking his heart, and her own.

Zerinthiya inhaled a deep breath as she contemplated her response. She wanted to tell him the truth, that in her deepest dream they would somehow rule side by side, but she knew it would only ever be exactly that…

A dream.

“I am Fiora…,” she finally spoke as her chin slowly inclined. “I serve my people first. I protect them… I cannot plunge them into another war for-”

“You are Fiora,” Aan interrupted through gritted teeth as he took slow steps toward her. “You do not submit to those who would oppress you… You fight,” he roared, and as his voice echoed the flora that had previously bloomed wilted.

They were opposites.

They were life and death.

They could never truly be together.

There was a deep sadness in Zerinthiya’s eyes that blossomed with the flowers at her feet. As Aan met her gaze, he could feel it. Her pain stirred something in his soul he thought could never be awoken. A part of him that had never been ignited until that day she landed in Ruat years ago.

He knew there was no getting through to her.

He knew her stubbornness was a strength at times, but it could also stand in her way.

For the first time in all of his years.

Aan felt helpless.

He felt all that he had slipping away.

“So that is it then?” He asked as his gaze slipped to the floor. When they had first met, he had been mystified by the way life seemed to sprout around her, but now…

Now it hurt to watch.

“I have been promised that he will not be hurt… That he will be treated as their own… That-”

“That he will not be hurt?” Aan snapped, and as he growled his skeletal wings erupted from his back. It was accompanied by slow creeping blackness in the veins around his eyes as their grayed iris was corrupted by the onyx of his pupil.

Zerinthiya, similarly to Aan moments before, dropped her gaze to the floor and watched the way his aura of decay fought against hers.

They had allowed passion to take hold of their sense, and this was the price.

There was always a price.

In one long stride, Aan invaded Zerinthiya’s personal space, and she felt the cool rush of his energy collide with the warmth of her own. Without fear, she looked upward to meet his gaze and stared into those blackened pools that were his eyes, knowing there was nothing to fear – knowing this was only emotion.

Only pain.

“Do you truly believe it will not hurt him to know we have abandoned him? To never know the warmth of your embrace?” The sable receded from his gaze as he paused for a breath, staring into the burning greenery of her own intently. “To never know the warmth of your love?”

In that moment, Zerinthiya knew it was not just their son he spoke of, but she was frozen. Even as a collection of things ached to rush past her lips and undo all that this painful conversation had done, she could not speak them aloud.

This was the way things needed to be.

The only way.

Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

For Zatria.

For Zote.

“I wonder… Is it worse to have known it, or never known it all… To be ignorant, or to be cold after knowing that fire…,” Aan’s hand rose slowly as he spoke. Gradually, it reached out toward her chin, but as soon as his fingers brushed her skin he retracted his touch. He then took several steps backwards as that hand balled into a fist, and outstretched his wings before he ascended into the open skylight above, without another word.

Zerinthiya did not move for a long while. She simply stared upward into the sky and endured the way her heart was ripped in two by her own choices.

This was not what she wanted.

She wanted to nurture their son in all the love she had to offer as Zatria healed and reveled in their victory.

But the Romadis family cared not for what she wanted.

They cared not for the destruction and suffering they would cause.

They only cared for their own ambitions.

For their own power.

Quietly, Zerinthiya prayed to Zote that their greed would come for them. That it would devour them from inside out as retribution for all that it had consumed. Quietly, Zerinthiya began to cry, a single tear rolling down her cheek that instigated the flood that would follow.

A flood that came in the form of a deep sob that was ripped from her chest in a cry of agony.

A wail that echoed throughout that chamber and beyond as it was overcome with flowers, vines, and towering trees.

A place with Queen Zerinthiya could often be found in her days, reflecting quietly as she stared upward into the skies.

Waiting for him.

----------------------------------------

“Your father took him from his family?” Azura’s features were twisted in horror and her voice was thick with an agonized sympathy.

Of all the things she could have assumed were hidden in the mysterious layers of Cyrus, this had not been one of them. While she had not known her father, and had been deprived the chance to choose to amend that rift, it was not the same. Not the same as being ripped from the arms of two parents who would have kept you wrapped within them if given the choice.

Her heart ached for him, and she had begun to understand why it was that he had kept it all a secret.

The hum of the nearby fountain bridged the silence as Oris’ features fell. It was not lost on him that it had been cruel, but he had been raised to understand that sometimes cruelty was a necessity.

He pitied Cyrus.

He pitied that he would never know his family, or his home, but he did not believe his father had made the wrong decision.

Nor did he believe his mind would be changed.

“Zatria and Teht were once great allies… They once interbreed and lived as two sides of the same coin,” Oris explained as he looked upward to the stars and the constellations they formed. “When a Tehtian Prince joined forces with the Volrak… And their trust was broken,” he turned his gaze on Azura as his hands slipped into his pockets. “The end of the Vesshire War, marked the reemergence of their alliance, and Cyrus’ birth… It solidified it-”

“But why stop it? How were they a threat to your family?” Azrua’s eyebrows furrowed deeply as she gripped the skirts of her gown in quiet frustration. The stories of Zatria and Teht were not taught in thorough detail in school. Unfortunately, she only recalled bits and pieces of the fragments she had been allowed to study, and now her interest had been reinvigorated.

“Zatria and Teht… The only population to rival their capacity for magic is the Elves, but they mind their own business in Ignisium… Together, Dominess… Zatria and Teht are life and death… Together they are unstoppable,” Oris’ gaze settled on Azura as he came to a stop, and silently gauge her reaction. It was no surprise that she seemed touched by the story, and that there was a new air of disgust emanating from her aura. He had to wonder if it was because of the soft spot she seemed to harbor for Cyrus, or if it was true compassion.

Something he had rarely seen in his life.

“They just came out of a war… That doesn’t answer the question of what threat they could have been to Anagénn?” Azura walked forward thoughtlessly, enthralled in uncovering more details of the story. While she did not think much of the Romadis family, despite all they had seemingly done for her, the more she unveiled.

The more she detested them.

Oris could see it in her eyes as he looked down at her. While he might have understood, to a degree, he had been trained to think differently – to think like a king. He understood the concept of a necessary evil, and that his reign would be riddled with the decisions that could not appease all.

That would hurt others, and perhaps even himself.

“Azura,” he began, stepping over formalities to indicate intended earnestness. “If you are to rule over Xetus… One of the most ancient civilizations in all of Anathema… You must understand there will be decisions that will not appease everyone… That will haunt you,” Oris paused as his gaze darted across her features. “Tell me… Are there not choices you have made that follow you like a specter? Imagine the depth of that regret when that decision alters the course of an entire… Dominion,” his voice became quiet as he stared at her intently, analyzing the shift in her stare from beneath a stern brow.

Despite all that she was feeling.

Despite the remorse for Cyrus and the disdain for Teris, Azura had been cursed with the ability to see from the perspective of another. For a moment, she slipped into the shoes of the young King of Anagénn, and tried to imagine what thought processes could justify removing an infant from the arms of their mother.

What could justify raising a child in a prison cloaked in finery.

This time perspective did not seem to be working.

This time she just could not see it.

“Will he ever be free?” Azura finally asked as she angled her torso away from him, her body cranned as if she might take steps away from him at any moment. Her head was still turned in his direction, but she was not looking at him. Although she was aware the choice to keep Cyrus as a prisoner was not his, she had noticed the way in which he told his story.

She had noticed his undertone and the words he chose implied that he felt it was…

Justified.

“Will he ever get the chance to see his home? To know his mother? His father?” Each new inquiry had a new layer of urgency as her eyes finally met his again.

Oris released a heavy sigh, one that seemed heavy with regret. He wasn’t really sure why he’d told her about Cyrus, and he wasn’t really sure what he had expected in response.

Blame it on the alcohol.

Stll, he would be surprised if she did not eventually learn. If one of her trysts with him did not eventually end in a confession that painted his family as monsters. While he had developed a bond with Cyrus, given they had essentially been raised side-by-side, he knew here was bitterness in him - he knew there was resentment. In fact, Oris could even understand it, but he also understood the decision his father had made. He understood that he had made that choice for him and his future reign, one that would never know war with Zatria and Teht.

Though, one could argue that Teris’ choice had done the opposite.

That it had ensured that possibility was an inevitability.

“I don’t think my response will be what you are hoping to hear,” Oris replied after a moment with a softened tone of voice. “This life is complicated, Azura… The sooner you understand that, the better.”

Even as he used her own words against her, he had sounded like Cyrus then, and it had caught Azura off of her guard. What she did not know is those were the words of Teris, echoed through both of them. A phrase often utilized as he dolled out hard truths, or what he believed to be the truth.

There was much she could say in response, but nothing she felt was worth saying. She did not believe she could change Oris’ mind, or make him feel remorse. There was no reason for him to be swayed by her and her ideals. So, she remained silent despite the urge in her tongue to lash at him.

Pick your battles, Z.

With her attention turned toward the bubbling fountain in front of them, Azura released a slow breath through her nose. All the while, she was entirely oblivious to the way Oris watched her. Some part of him had hoped that she might have more to say. The fire she often donned was admirable, and he now found himself looking forward to the moments when it was unleashed. However, he had noticed that something was perhaps… off about her this evening.

That perhaps this was all weighing on her.

If that were the case, he had made a poor choice in his selection of story.

“I do see him as a brother… As family,” Oris added. “I know perhaps it may not always feel that way, and the stigma of the fact that he is forced to be here taints that notion, but… I do care for him,” he admitted as his delivery became uncharacteristically tender.

It forced Azura to turn her head and watch him, searching for notes that gave weight to what appeared to be authenticity. Even as his amber gaze connected with the horizon and wandered from her, she could feel that he meant it.

Complicated.

He had said it best.

She then contemplated if he truly believed it had been the right choice, or if there was conflict in him. If he simply followed his father blindly, and defended his decisions, even if they were perhaps the wrong ones. While Azura loved her mother, she had been raised to think for herself.

To stand up for what was right.

“Maybe one day… When you are king… Maybe you can set him free,” Azura continued to watch him as her lips hoped to curl into a smile, but never quite got there. She did not believe in the hopefulness of her words, but she wanted to.

To be away from your family, and where you came from…

The thought suddenly made Azura ache for home.

For her mother.

“You are tenderhearted,” Oris retorted with a chuckle. “We will see in time if that will help you… Or hurt you, Dominess.”

----------------------------------------

Oris had offered to walk Azura back to her room, but she had told him she wished to be alone. It took a careful effort to leave the hall without Ayabel or one of her other maids following behind, and she was now eager to soak up the chance at solitude.

They had become so very rare.

There were the hours where she slept, and the ones she spent tossing and turning as her anxiety deprived her entry into the subconscious, but it wasn’t enough. She longed to lose herself in the woods that surrounded her home – her true home. To be swept in silence as she fought the battle to calm her mind.

Peace made it so much easier to win that fight.

It seemed it was finally all settling in. As she descended from her mania she was finally beginning to understand that this was real, and the path ahead was daunting.

She was no one.

She was nothing.

She had no right to think she could become anything else.

To let anyone believe she could be anything else.

That deprecative thought process was perhaps an indication that being alone right now was not what she needed at all. Unfortunately, its arrival was also an indication that she should run – that she should isolate. If she could slip away in the night things in the palace would return to what they were two months ago, and she would be forgotten in no time at all.

It could all be so simple.

Couldn’t it?

A cough from a nearby hunched over form pulled the direction of her gaze to its source. In the shadows of the palace, she imagined it was some noble that she didn’t care to interact with – as she did not care to interact with most. So, after a brief glance, she continued on unbothered. At least until one cough turned into two, and two turned into a fit that sounded as if it might be painful. Each one erupting from tired lungs, as they released pitiful sounds that showed signs of true suffering.

Why did she care?

Although the question hung in the back of her mind her legs were already leading her toward the stranger, and her lips were already parting to say:

“Are you okay?”

The closer she moved to the form, however, the clearer their visage became

It was Teris.

Alone and potentially inebriated.

If it were anyone else, they might take advantage of this moment, but after the story she had just been told, some part of Azura wished to leave him there to choke. Fortunately, she was not so petty – not so vindictive or vengeful. Still, the compassion in her expression dried up like a puddle on a summer sidewalk as the realization hit her. It was accompanied by something guarded in her eyes that was not there before. While she was aware the intricacies of the politics of nobility were a foreign concept to her, basic human instinct screamed over it all.

What Teris had done was wrong, and perhaps just one wrong on a long list of many of them.

“Does it sound as if I am?” Teris scoffed as he let out a sarcastic laugh, and turned his gaze toward the origin of the vaguely familiar voice. Then his expression seemed to fall, and it appeared as though he was struggling against the impulse to upturn his nose in disinterest. He cared for Azura’s presence least of all of the Romaids family. In his eyes, she was a waste of time, and not worthy of the minimal effort they were investing in refining her into something more than the nothing she was.

She would only disappoint them.

He was sure of it.

It was expected that his son's fascination with her would fade once he bedded her, and so he did not worry the same as his wife. He understood what it was to be a young man – to be the future King of Anagénn. It felt as though the whole world was hovering beyond your grasp, and so often it was far too easy to grab it.

“Ah,” he finally added with a notable air of disappointment. “Dominess… It is unwise to wander the palace without escort, especially so late in the evening,” Teris echoed the words of his son, and it brought the same eye roll as it had when they came from him. It was noticed by Teris, of course. Even in the low lighting of the night-swept palace, and now his chin inclined as his thin upper lip began to curl backward. “You should mind the attitude, girl… You are here due to the graciousness of myself and nothing more,” he sneered.

There were several things that Azura wanted to say in response, and none of them were pleasant.

The flash of anger his manner ignited in her burned her throat as it was deprived the right to enter the air, and the biting of her tongue was so harsh she felt as though it might just bleed.

She was a prideful thing, Azura.

Even if, in the eyes of the Romadis family, she had no right to be.

Alas, she was not as stupid as Teris might believe her to be, and she knew this battle was not one she should win. She could see the forces on the other side as they glared at her, an army consisted of trained killers against one girl.

The name he and his wife enjoyed calling her when they were displeased, and it they often were.

“How can I forget,” Azura replied at last. “The reminders are frequent.” There was careful emphasis on each of her syllables as if she were holding back a growl. The delivery of the sentence was overdone in its pleasantness in a subconscious effort to convey the opposite. To show that she did not intend to roll over, even if perhaps that was exactly what she should have done.

It seemed she had learned something from the underhanded tactics of Shatrina and Nasira, or perhaps that was a lesson from years in customer service.

Teris’ eyes narrowed as he peered up at her, his jaw tightening as he prepared to unleash all the venom salivating from his sharpened tongue. At least until he was cut off by another round of coughs, terribly dry and resulting in a splatter of blood in his palm as he moved it to cover his mouth. The time it took for him to regain his composure also granted the opportunity for his anger to subside as he then wiped his hands on his fine shirt. A article embroidered with fine silver details in the form proud Romadis elephants as an intricate necklace hung from his neck. In a rare event in Azura’s presence, he was without his crown, and it was likely the reason she had not known it was him when she approached.

The King had been sick for many years, there was a mass in his lungs that alchemists and Magi alike had tried to combat, but it would always resurface. The end was near and he could hear the gods as they called to him, welcoming home.

He only wondered if what waited for him was Nubis, or the Inferna.

Azura had been standing awkwardly through the coughing. While she wanted to walk away from him to ensure this did not escalate into anything worse, some part of her wondered if Teris might just keel over in front of her. She was not aware that he was sick, none of the general public was. It would imply that the Romadis family was weakened, as the inevitable transition of power following his death would be a tumultuous time for all of Anagénn. A time for the ambitious to pounce and bend the ear of the new king – young, inexperienced, and impressionable. Oris was a cub in their eyes, left to lead the pride by birthright and nothing more.

Left to prove himself lest he be devoured by the hungry herd.

“Why are you here?” Teris asked following a long stretch of silence. His voice was hoarse from the coughing, but it still held notes of aggravation due to the lack of respect displayed moments prior. While he knew it would be unauthentic should it come, he had lived his life by making the insubordinate fall in line.

And if they did not?

He would tear them down.

Thankfully for Azura, she was not yet worth the effort of being removed.

“I was returning from the hall-”

“No,” he cut her off, another cough briefly interrupting what he intended to say next. “Why are you here?” Teris’ charcoal gaze was cast upward to look at her, swimming with disdain and interest in equal measure. “Do you truly believe that you… could accomplish what you have been tasked with?”

Azura did not know if it was his inebriated state speaking or if this was simply who he was. It would not be surprising, given the often invasive and offensive bluntness of the rest of the Romadis family, and Cyrus as well.

The simplest answer was no, but he probably knew that.

The honest answer was no, but he probably knew that as well.

Still, Narr was not built in a day, and perhaps she was capable of far more than she would give herself credit for.

Oh what a stupidly hopeful thought.

“I don’t know,” Azura said following a long breath through her nose. It was still honest, but it was not what Teris had expected. He had anticipated the truth, or a lie, not something in between the two. “We don’t know what we’re capable of until we try… Until we’re forced to,” she added as her spine stiffened with a subtle conviction. Even if she did not necessarily have hope in herself – for herself – she did believe those words to be true.

That one could surprise themselves when faced with what they once believed to be impossible.

Teris’ eyebrows stitched together thoughtfully, but his expression remained stern. Then, his gaze drifted toward the flora infested courtyard in front of them on the floor below. Treetops with chirping birds seen beyond the railing guarding the balcony, singing in the moonlight as the quiet of the evening palace provided solace.

Although she was unaware, her response had forced him to recede into his own thoughts. A place that had been clouded by the resurfacing of old memories. Of the time when his own father had passed, as the weight of Anagénn had been placed on shoulders that were not yet prepared to bear it. He was older than Oris was then, and his father had been far more strict, but he recalled that those first handful of years had felt as though he was in the midst of a darkened sea and had never learned to swim.

There was no true way to prepare to sit upon his throne.

There was no greater teacher than experience.

Than to dive into the unknown and learn to swim.

To say he had not expected wisdom from the young woman he thought little of, would be a gross understatement. It lifted a speckle of his cynicism, but not much at all. There was no change in his demeanor or in his mind, only the beginning of a notion that perhaps she was not as useless as he once believed.

“I fought your father, you know,” Teris began as his eyes defocused on the half moon above. Its light casting a glow on the glassy surface of his eyes, and illuminating the highest points of the wrinkled plains of his features. “It was many years ago, I was hardly a man… Hardly a king,” he trailed off as he sighed deeply.

The battle had taken place along the south of Anagénn and north of Xetus in Reqiun. Long ago, Reqiun was neutral ground for all. No Man’s Land and a sanctuary for those who had never felt as though they belonged. Following The Fray of Feather and Tusk, it was a ruin. A desolate land overrun by raiders and dangerous to travel through for most. It was a small sector of land in the heart of Anathema, and now it was too wild to be tamed – too useless to be conquered.

Many refugees had turned to Sanctum since. A place that was believed to be myth, but it was the only hope for those who had watched their home be turned to a blood soaked battlefield. It is said that it is a great city with structures and homes haphazardly piled on top of one another. Creating towering formations comprised of vibrant colors and housing those from varying walks of life all over Anathema.

It is said to be beautiful in the most unconventional way, and Azura had always hoped she might see it one day – that she might even escape there.

That battle had occurred twenty years ago, when she was just a child. The news of its progress and end had been everywhere. It was the subject of most conversation and bombarded on every source of broadcast – radio, television, and the internet. As a child Azura was too enthralled in her toys and carefree things to comprehend it all, and as a teenager she yawned her way through her history class as she daydreamed of what she would do when school was out. So, it was no surprise that it had slipped her mind that it had all occurred during Teris’ reign.

That battle had come at a hefty price for the Romadis family.

That battle was the reason they sought out alternative means to end the conflict with Xetus.

That battle was the reason, despite their continued displays of confidence, that they feared this was not a war they could or would win.

Its memory haunted Teris now more than ever as he felt the hand of Orcus hover above his shoulder. He knew Dominus Zelarin was not a stupid man, and that he would see the weakness in Anagénn when Oris took the throne – that he would strike.

“I am sure you have heard the stories of it all in your time at the academy,” he turned his gaze slowly to her and offered her a disapproving glare. “If you remember any of it,” Teris scoffed.

Azura was not sure if it was aggravating because it was accurate, or because it yet another attempt – and a successful one – to be demeaning.

These fucking people.

“History books display it all so lightly,” he continued with a bite to his delivery that wanted to be humored, but was weighted by several other things – weighted by the pain of the past.

It was then, as she moved toward a column to lean against, that she realized the depth in Teris’ eyes were not just poisoned by contempt, but the many things he had seen. It was evident to anyone that being a king was a difficult task, but Azura had admittedly never contemplated just how burdensome it could be. Nor was she aware of the way all his guilt came tumbling down to suffocate him as the end seemed to be closing in on him.

“They paint it in glory, and at the start of it all it did indeed feel glorious… I would be blooded in battle at last… I would be made a true king by fighting for what I called my kingdom… For bringing them victory,” he trailed off again as his eyebrows pulled downward. A quiet pause was corrupted by the chirping of the birds as he seemed to lose himself somewhere for a few moments. Dragged back to the battlefield where he had frozen in fear. Paralyzed as those he had known for a lifetime were torn from him in the simple sweeping of a blade or the flick of a wrist.

Death was so final.

A severing of all potential in an abrupt and blunt end.

The stump left behind bleeding and bleeding for years to come, and perhaps never truly healed.

“It is one thing to read of battle, girl… It is another to see it for yourself. To smell the blood and shit and hear the final cries of the men you had called your friends… Called your family,” Teris’ voice had become so quiet now it could hardly be heard.

If Azura recalled correctly, he had lost his brothers in that battle. His father had perished just two years before, his only sister in his youth, and then Orcus had come for all that was left.

Teris had returned to his wife and young son a different man.

A broken man.

Eventually, he resurfaced from the depths of his grief, but he had never been the same.

“Forgive me… If I find it hard to believe that you are prepared to bear the same weight that I do… That I have for so many years,” Teris looked at her before his cough returned. Quickly spiraling into another flurry that became painful as it turned into a hack that delivered more blood into his palm.

Absent-mindedly, Azura had stepped forward in the midst of all, fearing he might fall from the bench he sat on. When Teris noticed he watched her for a moment, and laughed to himself. He had not been expecting compassion, not from her – not after how he had treated her since her arrival. It was anticipated from those who served him, out of duty, but she had never carried herself as if she were among them. Though he supposed it was something that came to her kind with greater ease. Despite how little he thought of the lowest of Anish society, he did admire the way they could lean on one another. The way they could unite even as they lived with little at all.

In fact ,when he was a young man, he had once loved a commoner.

A girl from the slums just like Azura.

A girl he was forbidden to see and who had been sent far far away from Anagénn with a swollen belly.

A girl his wife and children knew not of.

But that was a story for another evening.

“I don’t blame you,” Azura replied bluntly. There were occasions where her straightforward tendencies bothered those around her, but they could also lead to admiration.

As Teris observerved her prideful demeanor, her stubbornness, and the way she seemed to adhere to her convictions as if her life depended on it he thought to himself…

She could be a leader.

If she wanted to be.

There was then an internal conflict in Azura before she outstretched a hand toward Teris, and despite the kindness in the gesture it didn’t reach her features. She was of the mind that she would return the energy she was provided, and Teris had delivered a chill ever since she been dragged to the palace by Cyrus. Still, as she offered him help, her actions seemed to defy that very principal – ever the hypocrite.

“Here… isn’t it more dangerous for you to be alone than me?” She asked with an arched eyebrow as her hand hovered between them.

The truth was, Teris’ legs had weakened as he had wandered his way back to his room. He had assumed someone would find him eventually, despite his tendency to meander the palace in the evening, but he would not have predicted that it would be Azura.

Teris made no attempt to turn to the offered hand immediately. There was only silence initially before he finally peered toward it, and then looked upward to meet the eyes of the woman it belonged to. He knew there was some part of him that held resentment toward her because of who her father was, even if she did not know him. The same part that wondered if she might fight alongside him against Anagénn if given the chance to.

Although he did not trust her, his ale muddled mind began to wonder if perhaps he was going about this all wrong. If there were a possibility, with the right guiding hand, that she could be forged into a true ally of the Romadis family.

It would be a means to ensure his son would not know the same pain of loss that he had at the hands of the Xetus Dominion — a means to ensure the prosperity of his legacy when he was gone.

Although he would not have the decades he had been given to mold Oris, he would make do with what time he had left.

He had no choice.

So, in a first step forward, he placed his hand in hers, and used the support it provided to force himself up from that bench.

“Thank you, Dominess.”