"Why did they chose to send you of all people?" Rhea asked.
Azriel looked stoically into her eyes. "They want you to wear the fae irons and Rhys knows that you won't put it on willingly. I'm here to make sure they go on."
"Yes, yes, I'm not an idiot, Az. I didn't ask what you were doing, I asked why you? Rhys, Feyre, hell even Nyx would stand a better chance of overpowering me enough to put them on."
"You would hurt them if it meant keeping these chains off, would you not?"
Without missing a beat she replied, "Yes."
"Yes," he repeated slowly, "and you won't hurt me. Neither of us are leaving this room until these irons are on your body. Then, we will proceed to the hearing. Please, Rhea, don't make it harder than it needs to be."
"Like hell I won't hurt you. You believe I could harm the High Lord of the Night Court, the strongest High Lord to ever walk this Earth but not you? You're delusional."
"I'm not and we both know why you won't hurt me."
She stared in disbelief. Rhea had been waiting and waiting for this conversation; dreaming about what it would mean and how it would play out. This was not how it was meant to go. "How long have you known?" Her stomach dropped as she felt the air change in the room.
Rhea had been back for three years, and noticed the change in her feelings towards Azriel the second she returned. She wanted to tell him then what she felt but saw another female on his arm. Rhea could sense his happiness. She knew what it was for Azriel to be that free with his emotions and didn't want to steal any of that joy from him. Azriel smiled and laughed while in that females presence and Rhea could not bring herself to break them apart. So, she kept her knowledge to herself and continued on. If the male ever noticed the shift, he could act on it. She would not push his hand.
"Since you returned." Azriel replied. His words were short and filled with anger.
"Az, that was three years ago. You mean to tell me that you've known and not said a word?"
"Yes."
"I see." Rhea spoke softly, tipping her head down as she fought to keep tears from slipping free. "So, you've rejected me then." She sighed, collecting herself and stealing her emotions away, "I'm so glad that I got the memo. I guess better late than never, right?" She spit out the last words, reaching for venom but they landed closer to hurt than she liked.
Azriel studied the girl for a moment opening and closing his mouth before daring to speak, "I never spoke those words, Rhea. Clearly, you've known about us. You very well could have made your intentions clear at any point and decided not to." He sighed. "I say again, you won't hurt me and I won't hurt you. I've been sent to put these irons on and escort you to the Lord's Trial. Please, Rhea, don't make it harder than it needs to be."
"You said that already, asshole." Rhea sneered back and paused. Her voice feeling small as the next words came out, "You chose her? Always?"
"Rheannon," He stopped, saying her full name was rare for him and added gravity to his next words, "She is my wife. I chose her, always."
"What am I then? The mother's mistake?" Rhea snapped, her anger getting the best of her.
"You returned here too late to claim me. I love her. She is the light to my darkness, she brings me happiness and joy. I've… we've spent a long time together working on that. Moving me past that dark place that controlled me, that place that would see me evil. I will never go back there. But you, Sunshine," Rhea's nickname stung being used to break her heart, "you are right there in it's depths. It's too late to bring you back from the darkness. Everyone that held you, broke you. They tore into you and created a monster. I don't want that in my life."
They both stood completely still. Rhea piecing her heart back together from the absolute annihilation that she experienced. I chose her. No one ever chose Rhea. She had been passed around like cattle because no one cared where she ended up, and now no one ever would. If Azriel felt this way and wouldn't fight for her it was hopeless. The world thought she was a monster so why not put on a show?
Azriel broke the silence between them with a step forward. Rhea heard the jingle of the irons in his hands. He paused. "Please, let me put these on you and let us get this over with."
With eyes lined with silver, she looked up at Azriel, at the face that had been her friend for so many years, and spoke in a low pained voice, "Azriel, if you move to put those irons on my body you will live to regret it." He shook his head as the air around them simmered with power.
"Rhea, I regretted the task given before I walked into this room."
"Let me dress in my leathers if you wish to parade me around as a monster. I wouldn't want to disappoint." Rhea stepped into the closet to pull on the red tinted leathers the dead Queen had made her wear whenever she was sent to kill in her name. They were the princesses least favorite item of clothing for a multitude of reasons, but primarily because of the dye. The blood of her so called enemies. It stained the once sun bleached leather the darkest of crimson. While she had been allowed to wash the suit, thank the gods, it was never allowed until after the enough time had passed for the blood to seep into the fibers. Cauldron forbid the Enchantress look anything less than psychopathic.
When she walked out Azriel scrunched his nose in disgust, able to scent the blood reeking of the many fae Rhea had killed while in service to the Deceiver and the Kingdom of Hybern. "That outfit is vile. Why would you wear it to trial? It's not who you are."
Rhea let out a dark chuckle, words laced with venom, "I'm beginning to get the feeling that you don't know who I am, Spymaster."
"Of course, Princess."
"No." Rhea snapped. "Tonight you've brought out the Enchantress. That's who's on trial, right? The monster who's killed countless innocent fae. The assassin who's infiltrated foreign courts. The whore who's fucked anyone that paid the King enough." Azriel's face looked shocked as her barbs landed. Before he could comment on anything she said, she held out her hands to Azriel. "You may place the irons on my wrists now." Rhea's breath caught as the cold iron made contact with her skin.
First, he chained her wrists together ensuring that Rhea had almost no purchase to use her hands. Then, he attached a second set of manacles to her ankles before connecting both sets with a chain in the middle. It had a leash because apparently she was such a flight risk that she had to be dragged around.
"Why don't you put a fucking collar on me while you're at it. Better make sure I know I'm about to get fucked in this trial."
Grabbing the leash, Azriels eyes darkened. He pulled Rhea behind him as they walked to the throne room. She played absently with the irons at her wrist. They were tight but not unbearable. Loosing the sense of magic was what truly made the irons terrible. It reminded Rhea of the times in between her use to the King of Hybern — times that were better left to memory.
It was a long trek to the throne room. The suite Rhea was staying in was deep in the bowels of the Court of Nightmares. The room was exquisite in stature, fit for a Queen, which she supposed was comical. If she survived the Trial she doubted that the Illyrians would welcome her back. She may have won the title during her Blood Rite, but it had never been something that she held easily.
Walking through the Hewn City was almost nice. She had spent so much time Under the Mountain, Rhea had forgotten how pale an imitation the court there was. The stone carvings in the walls were grand masterpieces. The long extinct beasts gave an air of terror that was palpable, a feeling that Amarantha's dull imitation had never fully mastered. That bitch. Rhea wished that she had the strength to over power the commands that vile deceiver bid her do.
Where would she be if she had managed to evade the Queen's commands? Or even better, never ventured Under the Mountain? Not walking into a Lord's Trial for starters. The irons jingled a little less as Rhea held more of the slack in her arms. Gods when was the last recorded trial? It had to be more than two centuries ago, when a lord convinced a group of young fae from each court to sacrifice their magic in exchange for riches and land. If Rhea remembered correctly, the trial, lasted three days and ended with the lord being drawn and quartered. She very much wished not to meet a similar fate.
Maybe she shouldn't have changed into her leathers. Azriel had pissed her off and she wanted to anger him in return. They were a reminder of the monster she was made into under the stewardship of cruel rulers. Despite what Rhea said, she wasn't that person. She was made to do vile, terrible, evil acts but she wasn't any of those things. Would the High Lords realize that now that she was dressed as the Deceiver's Enchantress? As one of the fae who tormented the entirety of the continent? Rhea knew that they had forgiven her Uncle rather quickly, all things considered, but Rhys was a high lord. There wasn't much room to punish him lest they end his life and he was the strongest high lord, well, ever.
Rhea felt a tug on her arms as her grip slipped and the smallest bit of slack escaped as her escort stopped. Azriel stepped up beside her, almost close enough that Rhea could feel his breath. "We will enter now, Princess. I suggest you prepare yourself." Azriel voice sounded like soft velvet with a hard edge. Something about his tone set Rhea's hair on end. Like he knew how this would end, like he knew her fate had already been sealed.
"I want the irons off." She said. "Now."
Azriel sighed. He seemed to steel himself for the answer, knowing that it would upset Rhea. "The irons won't come off until all seven high lords have decided your fate. You made your bed, not you'll have to lie in it."
Rhea saw red, "I made my bed? Me? Are you out of your fucking mind?" The nerve the male in front of her had was unmatched. "Azriel nothing about my life since going Under the Mountain was my choice. But here I am, answering for the sins of my masters. If you want to give me platitudes, do better or shut the fuck up." She stepped up to grab the throne room door open but stumbled as the manacles on her ankles caught.
"Stand back so that I can open the doors for you. You'll make a fool of yourself if you fall into the throne room in front of all seven of them." Azriel muttered.
He took a step in front of Rhea and she took one last deep breath. She allowed herself a second of panic. A moment passed as she let the complete dread sink in. No one had ever survived a Lord's Trial. All seven high lords had to agree to let you live, and they never agreed. Rhea was going to die, and this was going to be her last time walking through these halls.
Rhea realized that she had left a glass of water on her walnut side table. How soon would her uncle send someone to clean out her room? She should have set a coaster down, the piece of furniture would be ruined. It was her favorite item in her chambers. The table was something that Rhea had picked up one afternoon while shopping with her mother along the Rainbow. The two of them so rarely agreed in their taste that Rhea had to buy the table when they both noticed how beautiful it was. The table had a live edge with a built in drawer that one afternoon the two of them had fashioned a false bottom into. The side table had been placed in the drawing room when her mother was alive. When they would argue, whoever wanted to apologize for their words or actions would leave behind a little trinket to let the other know that all was well. She supposed the table would be thrown out now, especially with the water ring that would surely stain the top.
Once her moment of panic passed and her head was as clear as it could be, Rhea's breath returned to normal. She would not let her fear show. It had been years since she felt so many emotions. Her time away had turned her into a shell of herself that she had only just started returning to after three years of being home. Despite her movement forward, Rhea could still depend on that dark place inside herself that she knew would protect her. She stepped into it as her voice turned cold and detached. Rhea gave one final command because if she wasn't dead by the end of this, then certainly she would not have title to command, "Open the door then."
There was a soft murmur inside the hall as the doors opened that turned to silence the second the gathered crowd realized their entertainment had stepped into the room. Rhea spotted her friends along the walls, some looking solemn but most looking gleeful at how far their princess had fallen. Azriel stepped up and tried to put tension on the leash binding her. He bent down and whispered into Rhea's ear, "Please, just walk with me. Don't make a spectacle out of it. It won't do you any favors and I think you could use as the grace."
"Spymaster." She spit, "This is a Lord's Trial. There's nothing more spectacular." Rhea took a step forward and the irons fell from her hands. She made quick work of the manacles on her legs. The shock and anger on Azriels face was palpable. Rhea stood on her toes and leaned into his side. At almost a whisper, low enough so only the spymaster could make out the words she said, "I told you to take them off and I told you that you'd live to regret this. You didn't listen, so I took matters into my own hands. Now when they ask of your incompetence you'll know it was all avoidable." Rhea chuckled. "I'll see you in Hell, Azriel." Rhea sauntered over to the raised dais and stood before the seven high lords of Prythian.