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Chapter 6: this love is worth the fight✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
We like the mountain, his shadows decided to tell him that morning as Azriel got ready for training with the Valkyries and Cassian. Mistress likes it there too…
Maybe it shouldn't even surprise him.
Don't spy on her, he admonished them with a sigh. She didn't deserve that.
It's not spying if they know we are there, the shadows disagreed and he held back another sigh. And Mistress told us to tell you that she arrived safely. And she is wearing her knives. That surprised him.
She is? He asked and they hummed in agreement.
She is, Master, the shadows promised. She is safe, Master.
He knew he could trust them. His shadows had never lied to him. And still, he worried.
Are you certain? he asked them and the shadows were quiet for a moment, like they were listening.
They respect her, they said finally. And the ones that don't respect her, fear her. The ones that do neither, they fear her family.
Maybe that shouldn't surprise him. She had been put into an arranged marriage as soon as they could. Which family would do that, but one that had the power to throw around?
Still, he wondered.
Why should they fear her family? Azriel asked.
She is the Third Daughter of the First Daughter. Oriana Fireborn, they call her, the shadows answered. Her grandmother is the Custodian of the Mountain.
Mother help him. He was mated to a bloody princess.
The fact that they called her Fireborn, wasn't even the most interesting thing of it.
"Are you alright?" Cassian asked him at that moment and for a moment he wanted to start laughing hysterically.
What exactly was he supposed to say to that?
Yes, I found my mate, I really like her and in her free time, she could probably put the whole of Velaris on fire with her power…But she prefers to act like she's nothing but a simple shopkeeper, even when she is one of the best goldsmiths that Tartera have to offer and also trained a ridiculously competent enchantress.
She also has a major sweet tooth and buys me caramel candy and keeps feeding me everything that she cooks just because and she likes it when I come to see her in her forge or her apartment. Generally, she treats me not as the terror of the nightcourt but like I am just…normal.
And now I found out that she never even thought to mention that she was the nearest thing to nobility that Tartera had, probably because she doesn't care in the slightest.
I want nothing more than to kiss her silly and tell her all the ways that I want to make her mine, even when I think that I don't even deserve to lick the ground that she walks on. I am going to ruin her, regardless of what I do.
"Yes," he finally settled on.
Everything was alright. Wasn't it?
Granted he would miss Oriana for three days, but it wasn't like he hadn't been apart from her longer, and…well.
So instead, he grabbed a training sword and entered the ring, where Gwyn was already waiting for him.
"Is the teapot working?" he asked her, as she greeted him with a smile. He had dropped off the teapot that Oriana had made for her a week or so ago, and Oriana had made him promise that he was going to ask if it was working, though he knew that she had extensively tested it herself.
He had been the recipient of half a dozen cups of tea that evening while Oriana taught the teapot to differentiate between different brewing temperatures and teas. It was as ridiculous and fascinating as it sounded.
"Oh yes, it's great!" Gwyn immediately told him, her smile brightening. She seemed to have gotten over whatever she thought about him turning down her offer for a date and was treating him like she always had.
He didn't have enough friends that he could afford to lose even one, so he was grateful for that.
"Though you really didn't need to do that," she told him softly, biting her lip, but he waved her off.
"Like I said, it was from my friend. A Thank you gift for your help with the research," he told her. "My friend did all the work."
He very purposefully didn't use any pronouns. As long as he didn't, people would probably think it was a male. And that was the best kind of way to keep her hidden. Not even make people aware that she existed.
"Did your friend find what they were searching for?" Gwyn asked as she took up a fighting stance and he mirrored her.
"Not yet, but I am sure it's just a question of time."
He was very sure about that.
Oriana seemed worse than a dog with a bone whenever she tried to figure something out.
And in the meantime, fighting Cassian gave him a pretty good excuse to expel some of the magic that was building under his skin.
That he managed to completely ruin one of his siphons…well, that was just a bad coincidence.
It did allow him to try out Oriana's new additions to his fighting leathers though, as he changed it out while grabbing a drink of water from the sidelines.
"How?" Cassian demanded suddenly, staring at him like he had grown a second head. "What did you do with them?" Cassian asked him. "Why is that so much easier for you?"
"I am trying something out," Azriel said, holding out the old siphon so that Cassian could see the mechanism on the backside of it.
"How?" Cassian muttered under his breath. "I want this," Cassian suddenly said, staring at Azriel.
"I am just testing it out," Azriel said hesitantly, not having expected that reaction. Though he probably should have. Cassian absolutely hated leatherwork.
"Give me a few weeks to figure out if there is anything that needs to be changed," he finally bargained. And probably a few weeks to prepare Oriana for making a dozen more of these.
"Fine. But then you are going to share that because I have no patience for leatherwork," Cassian said pointedly. "By the way, that would have made a much better gift than the bunch of stupid flowers."
He couldn't help but be still amused about that.
Still, with Oriana gone, there was no reason why he shouldn't go and have dinner with the rest of the Inner Circle at the River House that evening.
Nothing that would keep him away from him.
"Oh, Az, do you honour us with your presence for once?" Mor teased him. Azriel just shrugged, ignoring her good-natured teasing.
There was a grain of truth in there. Since he had found her, he had skipped out of dinner more often than not. Mostly because he just wanted to be around her. And also maybe a tiny bit because he didn't trust his mental shields to keep out Rhys completely.
So whenever he was in the same room as his brother, there were no thoughts about her. He forced himself to instead think of inconsequential things, about sharpening Truth-Teller, or today, he stared at the perfect ivory table linen stretched over the massive table in the River House.
For the first time in his very long life, Azriel thought that maybe he needed some of those.
The thought came to him unwittingly. Suddenly it was just there.
He thought back to his cottage, how, even more than a year since he had taken it, he had never bothered to make it…anything more than it was. An Empty Shell.
And suddenly he imagined it…differently. What if it was filled with life? With furniture and knickknacks, with table linens and paintings on the wall…a warm fire crackling away in the kitchen, a pot of soup on the stove…coming home to that cottage after another bone-crushing mission and not being alone for once.
It felt like somebody had taken his heart, pushed it into a vice and crushed it.
And still, he couldn't help the feeling of bone-deep contentment as he imagined that life.
It would be…everything he had ever wanted.
Rhys stared at him. For a moment Azriel wondered if he had gotten any of that from him, but even if he had, what did it matter?
Putting some furniture into the cottage sounded nice.
He could buy some and maybe…maybe the rest of it…that could become true as well. That would be…perfect.
"Az, did you really buy Gwyn a tea set?" Cassian asked him suddenly and he stared at his brother. What?
"No."
"I literally heard you ask her about it today," Cassian said with a grin.
"A teapot? Really? Of all the things you could buy a female, that's what you are going with?" Mor said with a laugh. "You are 540 years old, Az."
Right.
He really didn't like in what direction that conversation was going, especially as it seemed to have piqued the interest of everybody else at the table.
"Gwyn helped me pull some books as research for a friend of mine. My friend gave her the tea set as a thank-you gift. I was just the one who delivered it," he finally said quietly.
He hoped that would be enough for Cassian. And Mor. And Rhys.
It probably wasn't.
"You have friends that aren't us? I am proud of you," Cassian teased him. "What kind of research?"
He should have known that Cassian wasn't going to let this go this easily.
"Armour."
The less he said, the less Cassian could misconstrue.
"Armour?" Mor questioned.
Cassian's face lit up. "Was your friend the one that fixed the Siphon problem?"
Azriel just inclined his head.
"The Siphon problem?" Rhys wondered. "What kind of problem?" And there went the High Lord of the Night Court, ready to take on any problem that wasn't his and make it his own.
"You know how annoying it is that they are worked into the leather? Azriel had it fixed that they clipped onto it instead. Makes it way easier to change them out when needed," Cassian explained.
"Quite inventive," Amren said thoughtfully.
"Yes, but Az is being stingy and not sharing," Cassian complained.
"I am not being stingy," Azriel said with a roll of his eyes. "I just want to test it first. Do you want your Siphon to fall off during a fight? Probably not," he pointed out reasonably.
"That would be impractical," Cassian agreed. "But I still expect you to share the spoils. When you have done all your experiments.
He just nodded. That seemed to soothe Cassian's ruffled feathers enough.
Still, Azriel should have known that this wasn't gonna be it.
And it wasn't.
He felt the razor-sharp talon at his mind's edge and opened up to Rhys. It was second nature to him after centuries. Opening just a sliver, just enough that Rhys could slip inside.
You know if you wished for more from Gwyn…I think she would be receptive. Without breaking any confidence… his brother trailed off leadingly.
Right.
Somehow, even the suggestion of it was making him furious, even when he stamped it down.
So when it had been about Elain, Rhys had ordered him to stay away. Had pulled rank. Made it very obvious that whatever Azriel wanted, it didn't matter. And now…now Rhys was trying to push him into the arms of a female that would suit Rhys' purposes perfectly. Of course.
He knew Gwyn. He probably even trusted her. They were the only two in their close circle of friends that didn't have a significant other. So of course. It would work out perfectly.
But the fact was, that regardless of how beautiful the red-haired Priestess was…Azriel wasn't interested.
I am not interested, he responded flatly.
He wasn't. He liked Gwyn as a friend. And that was all.
You aren't? Rhys prodded, sliding further into his mind and Azriel pushed up his walls in warning. Rhys stopped.
I am not.
And still, you gave her that teakettle, Rhys pointed out, amusement in his mental voice. Seems like you do care.
It wasn't from me, Azriel said tightly. It was a thank-you gift from a friend.
Why didn't people just believe that?
Gwyn is beautiful. You would be lucky to have her, Rhys said, a near warning in his voice.
I would be, Azriel agreed, feeling Rhys surprised at that admission. And still, I am not interested.
So what, you'll spend another 500 years pining? It was said offhand, but it hit the intended spot with the same true strike that Truth-Teller had.
Right.
What does it matter to you? Azriel responded, quietly and then slapped up his walls as massive and unbroken as he ever had.
The near-invisible flinch from Rhys as Azriel threw him out of his mind, didn't even make him feel better.
So that were the options according to Rhys? Either Gwyn or him pining another half a millennium about Elain?
Really?
That was it?
It shouldn't even hurt him. It probably hadn't even been intended to…
It didn't matter.
Not really.
He chose to fly home that evening, excusing himself as soon as it was polite to do so.
Azriel couldn't help but wish that Oriana was at home. That he could just shadow-walk right into her apartment and find her in her kitchen, cooking or pouring over books, or drawing any new designs…or in her forge.
Anything. He could have just been with her and she would have been fine with him…kissing her or just…holding her. Holding her and feeling like there was at least one person that…
He didn't deserve her.
Just at that moment, as he landed near his front door, he felt her tug at their fledgling bond.
His knees nearly buckled at the pure brightness of…what she pushed in his direction.
His breath caught in his throat.
It was soft and sweet and so…so heartbreakingly beautiful. It brushed over his mind like a warm embrace, enveloping him in her feelings.
He had never known contentment like that.
So the utter desperation and fear that bled over their bond afterwards was even more shocking.
What's wrong? he forced out.
What was wrong with Oriana? This wasn't…this was normal. This wasn't…this wasn't…
The fear that gripped him was nothing against the desperation that poured out from her.
What's wrong? He bellowed again, asking the shadows that were his always present companion what was going on, for cauldron's sake!
At least Oriana had taken one of them with her. One that could tell him what was going on.
Mistress is in the fire chamber, his shadows answered. She said that she would be right back, that we should keep out of the fire because she wasn't sure that it wasn't going to hurt us, and that she was going to be fine.
Azriel wondered weakly if she had lied to his shadows to make them leave her alone because the feelings he got from her were a lot of things but fine were none of them.
Try to get to her.
We can't.
What do you mean you can't?
We can't. Master, we can't reach her.
And then suddenly, he didn't know how long it took… it could have been an hour or just minutes, but suddenly the desperation stopped like somebody had snuffed out a candle. Completely gone. Just gone.
Azriel nearly didn't dare to ask.
Is she alright?
She's…unconscious. But the flames are out, his shadows reported. Mistress seems…fine. Not the perfect thing he wanted to hear but it was…better than nothing.
Still, his made was lying there, unconscious and unprotected, with only his shadows as a guard.
Is there anybody that will look after her? Azriel asked tightly. Is Cyrus there with her? If her brother was with her, he would feel better about the whole thing.
Though he still wondered what, for cauldron's sake, had happened. Oriana was very exact and careful about any experiments she did, so why would…
Her sister is coming. The shadows reported. The healer.
That was something. His heart felt less like he was being ripped into too and now he couldn't help the anger that was pooling in his gut.
What had Oriana done? Alone?
How stupid could she have been?
What was she even doing in the fire chamber? What even is the fire chamber?
Master…Mistress wanted to remove her necklace.
She woke up between one gasp and the next.
"You know, I should kill you," Enya said darkly, from where she was standing next to her bed and Oriana sat up, a crashing headache pounding away in her skull.
A hand went to her throat. No necklace.
For the first time in nearly 200 years…she was free. It was gone.
"What happened?" she croaked out and her sister thrust a glass of water in her hand. Her bedside manners had always been questionable.
"You tell us," Cyrus said drily and she looked up to find him and Samson sitting at a table just a few feet away.
"I wanted to melt off the necklace," she said softly. That's what…that had been the plan.
And then it had just snowballed from there.
She grimaced as she wondered what exactly Azriel must have felt through the bond.
That was the exact moment as she felt worried trawling through the bond. Weakly she pushed back with contentment, trying to make him realise that all was right. She should have warned him. She hadn't.
That was definitely on her.
The next wave that came back from him was pure relief, clear like spring water, bookended by a tiny bit of anger.
She deserved that. She felt properly apologetic and just a second later his emotions softened.
"Yeah, you did manage that," Samson drawled.
"You also expelled so much magic that we weren't quite sure if you were going to survive it," her sister snapped. "We needed to wait until the floor cooled down enough so that we even could get to you. Your magic was leeching all over the damn place…Grandma was the one who pulled you off the Eternal Flame, by the way. "
Great.
Just what she wanted to hear.
She didn't even try to make a flame appear in the palm of her hand, because Enya would have actually killed her if she had done that.
And then she already got to hear the shouting at the door and Oriana pulled a grimace as she heard her mother bellow. "She's my daughter!"
"Yes, she is. And she's my granddaughter," came the cutting voice of her grandmother as she pushed open the door.
"See, not as much as a scratch on her," her grandmother said with some amusement, as Oriana's mother stepped beside her, her mouth set in a firm line. "Fireborn. I should have expected nothing else," Cyra muttered under her breath. "Now, all of you, out. We'll talk later. After I have talked with Oriana."
Nobody dared to argue with her grandmother if she took that tone of voice. Not even her mother.
"Now, little flame," her grandmother said as she sat down on the edge of her bed. "What really went down in that fire chamber?"
Oriana couldn't help it as her eyes started to glisten with tears. She hated crying.
"A century ago, I was really stupid," she admitted. "Really stupid."
"Were you?" her grandmother asked, no judgment in her voice and Oriana just nodded.
"After Wynstan died…I…used my wedding necklace to power a ward. I worked it into an enchantment I put on it."
"What kind of ward?" her grandmother asked curiously. "Why would you do that?"
"The kind of ward that would kill anybody that tried to take what they wanted from me," she admitted. "I didn't want to get married again. And the ward would have prevented it."
She knew that these weren't the words that her grandmother had expected from her. She stared at Oriana, dark eyes fierce.
"Oriana. Did you really think that we would have ignored your wishes?" her grandmother asked her.
"You wanted to marry off Titania to Titus, even when you know that she loved Toron. And if that wasn't an option, then Enya. We both know that she would have been absolutely miserable," Oriana snapped. "I married Wynstan, so they didn't need to."
She had wanted to keep her sisters from being miserable. That had been her one goal.
And in trying to reach that goal…well. She had forgotten how to keep herself from being miserable as well.
"You said you loved him," her grandmother said softly, imploringly and she shrugged.
"I learned to love him," Oriana corrected her. "But I was never in love with him. I would have never laid waste to the entire continent for him. Or done anything in my power just to see him smile, because it would have felt like the world stood still for just a moment if he did."
Not like Azriel.
"I think that you needed to think about the greater good at that time. And if that meant putting me into another marriage, then that was a sacrifice that you needed to make," she continued. "And I understand that. I do. But I can't do that again," she whispered.
"So you put on the ward," her grandmother continued.
She just nodded.
"While you were wearing the necklace."
"Yes."
"And you couldn't remove it."
"No."
"That was stupidly risky," her grandmother told her, crossing her arms.
She didn't flinch.
"I didn't care," she admitted. "I didn't. The same like I couldn't care about anything else. The reason why I left the mountain, is because I didn't care anymore."
The reason why she gave up a job she was good at. A job she had loved.
She just didn't care anymore.
"And now you took it off," her grandmother continued. "You walked right into the Eternal Flame and melted it off yourself. Putting the ward on your body wasn't the only thing you did that was stupidly risky, Oriana."
She could hear the sharp admonishment in her grandmother's voice but she didn't flinch away.
"I tried the outer rings first," she defended herself.
"You could have killed yourself!" her grandmother snapped. "If the Flame hadn't judged your purpose as pure, you would have killed yourself! Did you even think about it?!"
"I couldn't keep myself chained to a dead man," Oriana whispered.
"Why?" her grandmother asked her with a sigh. "What changed?"
"I corrupted the fidelity enchantment on the necklace when I placed my own enchantments over it," Oriana admitted. "The consequence of being stupid."
"Which means?"
"Which means that it started to punish me when I started…being with another male," she explained. "And that was unacceptable because he's my mate."
Her grandmother stared at her and then sighed. She reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose, for just one moment reminding her so much of Cyrus.
"You met your mate," her grandmother said flatly.
"Yes. He's Illyrian," Oriana responded.
Her grandmother's laugh was warm and amused at that. "You always made the most interesting choices, Little Flame," she said with a shake of her head. "Well, I look forward to meeting him, whenever you bring him down here. And to make sure that he is worthy of the female who literally walked into fire for him. And bend it to her will."
She swallowed at that.
"That reminds me…" her grandmother said, reaching in the fold of her dress.
What she pulled out, was maybe the most shocking thing of it all.
The round globe held a bright blue spark of the Eternal Flame in it. She had seen one of these only once in her life. A piece of it, freely given.
"The Eternal Flame left this for you," her grandmother said, her voice quiet. "I think you know the purpose."
She didn't. Not yet. But she still accepted the globe in her hands, cradling it close.
"Now. I am going to let your mother come into this room, and she will spend an hour or two berating you. We all know it's because she loves you and is worried about you…and is absolutely horrid at showing it," her grandmother continued. "I would suggest that you sit through that lecture without disagreeing."
She pulled a grimace. Even when knew that her grandmother was right.
Her grandmother stood up and then leaned down to press a kiss against her hair.
"Don't do this again, Little Flame," she said softly. "The world would be a far darker place without you."
Her grandmother was right, as she so very often was.
Oriana's mother did spent the better part of 2 hours berating her about the danger she had put herself in and seemed very perplexed when Oriana agreed with her.
"Oh, I know that it was stupidly dangerous," she said drily. "There just wasn't another way that I could think of, to get it off me." Her mother just stared at her. "I am sorry for worrying you," she added.
"Well," her mother said weakly. "So, since you finally removed the necklace, I imagine you are ready for…companionship again?"
Yeah, just not in the way her mother thought.
"I met my mate," Oriana said, sticking out her chin. "The only companionship I am ready for again is his."
Her mother's eyes widened.
"When?" her mother asked. "You didn't mention that in any of your letters."
"A few weeks ago," she answered truthfully. "Cyrus was the only one who knew."
"She made me promise not to tell anybody," Cyrus defended himself when Titania reached out to stick her elbow in his ribs.
"Younglings," her mother warned tightly.
Enya just snorted.
"Just wait until she tells you what he is," Enya muttered under her breath. Oriana glared at her.
"Oriana?" her mother asked with a sigh.
"He's Illyrian," she admitted evenly.
Yeah, she expected that her mother wasn't particularly pleased about that.
"Oriana," her mother said with a sigh. "You know how they treat their females."
She did know that. But she also knew that Azriel no longer lived in the war camps. She knew that Azriel had never treated her with anything other than the utmost respect. She knew that he had made his life in Velaris.
She knew that he worked for the High Lord.
All of that didn't really sound like somebody who had any plans to subjugate her in the way some of his relatives did.
It showed the exact opposite.
"He's different," Oriana said quietly. "I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth. And you know you can trust that I am never going to let any male make any decisions for me," she pointed out drily.
"He did teach her how to use a knife," Enya pointed out reasonably. "Though maybe that's a courting ritual for his kind, who knows."
Oriana just rolled her eyes at that.
She was still decisively shaky, after her mother's lecture, but she did manage to coax Azriel's shadows out from under the bed.
"Hey there," she whispered. "I am sorry if I worried you."
One tendril hesitantly crawled closer to her. She held out her wrist, not wanting to startle them, if she reached out, and slowly they swept closer to her, wrapping themselves around her wrist once again.
"Could you tell Azriel that I am alright? I am so sorry for worrying him," she said softly.
Of course, Mistress. They tightened around her wrist in response. Master said to tell you that you'll talk once you are back.
Well, that was something.
"Come on, Oriana, we are gonna take a bath," Titania said, as she stuck her head through the door. There was no arguing with her sister when she was in a mood like that.
So Oriana didn't even bother with it.
She was more than content to slide in the hot springs deep in the mountain that were a part of their culture as surely as the Eternal Flame was.
Oftentimes before dinner, half the mountain could be found soaking in the pools, though tonight it was already late enough that they were orphaned. Dinner was over, something that Oriana had happily skipped, though she knew that just leaving her family's room and walking down with her sisters would result in everyone in the mountain knowing that she no longer wore her wedding necklace.
Oh well. Leave them to it.
The gossip would be insidious, she was sure of that though.
She slid into the hot water and sighed in response, tilting her head to the side as Enya settled next to her, who held out two bars of soap for her.
"Please take a whole package of them with you, because I can't stand what you have done to your hair," Enya told her drily and Oriana snorted in amusement but took both bars.
She inhaled the scent of cinnamon that seemed to stick to one bar, immediately recognising it as the body wash she always used and started scrubbing her body.
At least she wasn't covered in soot. That was something.
"So about that mate of yours," Titania started.
"He has wings!" Enya blurted out, interrupting their oldest sister and Oriana couldn't help but be amused by how Titania pursed her lips in response.
"He does," she agreed. "Surprisingly comfortable as a passenger by the way," she quipped only so that she could scandalise her oldest sister.
"You have seen his wings?" Titania asked, sounding curious, and Oriana stared at her.
"They are kinda hard to miss," Oriana said drily. "Why?"
"I have heard that they are…" Titania trailed off and now Oriana's interest was piqued.
"What have you heard?" Enya wondered. "Tell us!"
"It's supposed to be proportional…" Titania said and Oriana needed a moment until she caught onto that line of thinking.
"What's proportional?" Enya wondered.
"Their wingspan. To other…things," Titania murmured.
Oh, come on.
She splashed water at her sister in response. "Titania!" She could feel the blood rushing to her face, her cheeks heating up. No, that couldn't…
But what if it was?
"So, how big is he?" Enya asked her and she just stared at her sister, who immediately blurted out, "The wings, I mean. It's a scientific enquiry!"
"Enya!" she hissed at her.
"Just let me know if you need a healing draught or not," her sister muttered under her breath.
Even Titania burst into giggles at that.
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