Chapter Text
Azriel
Azriel decided to shadow walk five miles from the coordinates that Eris had provided and fly the remainder of the way in order to scout ahead for any potential traps.
Eris’s last letter played over and over again in his mind during the short flight over the Autumn canopy. The last line was particularly jarring, and caused unease to bubble up within him, “all I have ever been was honest.”
That male has probably never had an honest word pass his lips his entire life, he grumbled to his shadows.
The fire lord may not be what he seems master.
He has many secrets, but secrets do not make him dishonest.
Well why don't you just find out what those secrets are and then we can decide if he’s telling the truth or not.
We know all that the fireling shares with us.
What do you mean what he shares with you? Does he talk to you?
He does not talk to us about his secrets.
We can only know what he allows us.
What in the blessed cauldron are you talking about? What he allows? Why don't you find out the things that he’s not sharing?
It is not our job to find out his secrets.
Of course it’s your job to find out his secrets, we’re the fucking spymaster of the Night Court..
Master you are spymaster, we are simply your shadows.
Azriel scrubbed a hand over his face as he blew a steady breath out. Fine. Can you at least tell me what secrets of his you do know.
His secrets are not ours to tell.
Holy fucking mother above you lot are impossible!
He knew it was as useless as any other time he had demanded the same of his shadows in the centuries prior. The heir of Autumn was and still remained a mystery to both he and his shadows, always circling back to the same answers again and again.
Azriel spent the rest of his flight adamantly ignoring the shadows floating around him, whispering sweet nothings in his ears.
Confusion and irritation washed over him when he arrived at the coordinates. The thick canopy of autumn leaves simply stretched on for miles.
Bastard was probably messing with me and sent me on a wild goose chase, Azriel grumbled to himself.
No. No.
We are here.
He is here.
He dropped closer to the forest below till his feet were barely a breath away from the tops of the trees below as he circled back around the area. Still nothing but dense blankets of trees and leaves as far as his eyes could see.
This way!
Shadows tugged eagerly at the gauntlet on his left hand pulling him down into the trees. Pulling himself into the shadows so his wings would not get caught up in the many branches he followed their pull, traveling through the Autumn woods from shadow to shadow.
In less than a minute's time he felt wards warm and pulsing with life brush against him as his shadows had deposited him as the base of a large Hyperion. Looking around Azriel saw scattered beams of moonlight, few and far between, forcing their way through the thick leaves and branches leaving shining rays of gold illuminating small pockets the Autumn colours of the forest floor.
Look up.
As he tipped his head back his shadows twisted their way up his body, brushing against his face and tugging playfully on his hair.
The trees were so dense in this part of the forest that it was difficult to make out the details of the forest surrounding him beyond the rare ray of moonlight peaking through. Even without being able to fully see the details of his surroundings Azriel could tell the trees in this part of the forest were very old, an ancient magic thick and heavy hung in the air around him.
From where he stood the trees appeared to stretch endlessly upwards, their branches interwoven like the fingers of long lost lovers as they reached towards the sky.
Narrowing his eyes he followed the gentle guidance of his shadows as he moved his head slightly further back angling to the left but still he saw nothing. One of his shadows broke off and started floating up towards the top of the canopy and even in the near darkness Azriel was easily able to track his shadow. Less through sight and more through the intuition of the tether he shared with the dark little wisps.
Suddenly the shadow halted in its upward movement and began bobbing up and down excitedly. Still Azriel saw nothing.
Giving up on seeing anything from the ground he allowed himself to be pulled through the shadows to a tree branch adjacent to the little wisp hovering about. Finding himself seated on a tree branch he looked down towards the forest floor and estimated he was about eighty feet up. His legs dangled down off the branch swing out over the forest below and he adjusted his wings behind him to better balance as he looked on.
A soft scrap of wood against wood startled the shadowsinger and he had to drop a hand out to the branch he was seated on to keep himself balanced. Instead of rough bark his hand met smooth wood, but before he had time to ponder his discovery a sharp voice cut his attention.
“I see you finally found the place. I was afraid you might have gotten lost seeing as the sun set hours ago.”
Turning his head Azriel saw the Autumn heir, brow arched, lips pulled into a small smirk. The tiny bit of moonlight breaking through the trees shone on his pale skin giving the heir a slight glow in contrast to the constellation of freckles smattering his face. He looked like a reflection of the starry night sky, beautiful and radiant,yet also harsh and cold.
“Well it certainly would have helped if you would have mentioned that this cabin was actually a treehouse. Bit hard to find something if I don’t know what I am looking for.” Indeed looking around Azriel could see that where his hand was clasped he on what he had assumed was a branch was not actually a branch but a railing for a small balcony that jutted out of the side of a small wooden structure perched against the trunk of the tree. The walls seemed to be made of the very tree itself as the wood tangled and wrapped together to form the shape of a wall.
“You wouldn’t have had an issue if you simply winnowed to the coordinates that I gave you. It would have brought you right to this front porch.” Eris’s brows furrowed as he looked quizzically at the Night Court male. Eris saw his eyes flash with something there and gone again before he could decipher it and the cold mask of indifference once again adorned the shadowsinger’s face.
Eris’s eyes twinkled with mischief as he seemed to come to some sort of realization.
“Ahh. You thought this was a trap didn’t you? Trusting enough to send correspondence with the deplorable heir of Autumn but not so trusting to follow the instructions in those same correspondence.” Amber eyes flashed with mirth as a catlike grin formed on pale pink lips.
“Why not send your shadows to scout the coordinates ahead of you? Is it perhaps that though your little friends are irrevocably bound to you and your service that even they do not have the full trust of the fearsome shadowsinger?”
Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line of irritation. There were many things that he found infuriating about the autumn prince but one of the most irritating things is how he seemed to read people as easily as the doe moved through the forest or the sparrow took to the sky.
It was simply his nature, to burn through the layers of a person with those piercing amber eyes until he had latched on to the very soul and essence of you. Few things did Azriel guard so well as his innermost being. Not even his brothers were privy to his deepest thoughts and desires, and yet Eris with his burning gaze was able to melt the many icy hardened layers of protection with ease. It irked him that out of everyone in his life Eris seemed to know him better than anyone else, always having the upper hand in any interactions they had.
It was this growing irritation of the male along with the frustration Azriel had experienced with his shadows just minutes ago that had Azriel reaching for Truth-Teller at his side.
Before either male could fully grasp what was happening Azriel had pinned Eris against the wall, blade pressed tightly against the pale column of his throat.
“Looks like you’re the one trapped to me.” Azriel ground out through clenched teeth as he tried to calm the racing of his heart.
Amber eyes met pools of hazel, and Azriel had the distinct feeling that despite Eris being the one with the blade cutting into his skin that he was going to be the one flayed open and raw for all to see.
“If I wanted to trap you dear Azriel I certainly would not have lured you here to one of my most closely guarded secrets in order to do so.” Those words brought Eris’s letter floating back to the surface where Eris had mentioned this place, asking for discretion because Beron did not know of it.
“Fair point. That actually brings me to the more pressing matter, which is explaining exactly what the fuck you meant in your letters. Starting with Beron and Autumn and whatever in the damn cauldron you meant with all that nonsense.” The edge of the knife never left Eris’s neck but Azriel loosened his grip on the blade fractionally to allow the heir to speak without slitting his throat open.
Amber eyes swirled with some emotion that Azriel could not place before Eris began to speak. “It is exactly as I stated in my letter. Beron may be High Lord but that does not mean that the land only answers to him.”
After seeing the puzzled look on Azriel’s face Eris continued on.
“You cannot step foot outside the prison of your own court of self importance and elitism long enough to recognize that not everyone is so blinded by the shroud of darkness that your so-called brother relies upon to conceal faltering dominion.”
Jaw tightened with irritation as the blade pressed further into pale skin. A trickle of red staining the unmoving pale column that was so unmarred that it may have been made of marble. Unwavering a tisk on the verge of a sigh passed through Eris’s parted lips as a slender finger pushed gently against the sharpened edge of Truth-Teller.
“While Beron is certainly the most powerful of the Autumn fae that does not mean he is all powerful. The Seasonal courts are slightly different in their connection with the magic of their land than the solar courts. Our connection with the land is integral to the magic we possess. The further ingrained into the land the people are, the more powerful the magic is. That is why the seasonal courts all have various ceremonies of giving back to the land. I’m sure you’ve heard of Calanmai.”
Azriel scoffed, of course he had heard of it. When Night and Spring had been on friendly terms Rhys and Cassian had begged him to attend many times. Azriel had always declined as he was not one for public affection much less sex out in the open with hundreds of fae around.
Realizing that he had lost the attention of the shadowsinger Eris cleared his throat keeping his eyes locked on Azriel watching as the the spymaster blinked suddenly remembering himself regripping the knife in his hand.
“You know this really would be much more comfortable without a knife at my throat.” Eris took a breath and continued, “Spymaster, you were the one who wanted to know the answer to all of this and I am happy to answer your questions without the help of your little friend.”
Although Eris had his usual smirk adorning his face it appeared to have a mischievous tilt, eyes alight with something akin to sincerity. The brief instance of a glimpse behind the firelings mask was enough for Azriel to lower Truth-Teller back to its sheath on his thigh.
“Why don’t we take this conversation inside. I promise no traps lie in wait to get you shadowsinger. Well, unless you consider my cooking skills that poor.” Seeming to have humored himself Eris let out a small breathy chuckle as he turned on his heels and walked along the wall towards the tree trunk.
Azriel was too stunned by the change of demeanor in the male to move from the spot he was standing. Only when one of his shadows tugged gently at his arm did he begin moving to follow the male.
Eris was stood leaning against a dark wooden door frame close to the trunk of the tree waiting for Azriel to make his way over. Stepping to the side he waved Azriel in, his golden rings glinting in the firelight within.
The space was surprisingly large for a structure that was suspended in the trees. The interior walls were the same as the exterior, a tangle of branches woven tightly together stretching up until they met the ceiling which was a continuation of the tangle of branches. There was a small sitting room with a rich red settee and two emerald green chairs surrounding it. Off the sitting room there was a small kitchen with a massive dining room table, large enough to seat at least eight. Towards the back wall there was another door and a small set of stairs leading up.
Though Azriel would never admit it it truly was beautiful. The colours of Autumn bleed and flowed throughout the room, almost giving off the appearance of walking on the forest floor surrounded by the leaves of fall. Books and small nick nacks were scattered throughout the space but none of it felt cluttered or untidy, simply a sense of life and comfort in the home.
Scanning the room for the third time he saw Eris watching him intently as though trying to pull apart and analyze exactly what Azriel thought of the space.
“Beron truly does not know of this place?” It seemed prosperous that a space that clearly must have used a great deal of magic to be built could be hidden from the High Lord of the land.
“No he does not. And if he does I shall know it was you who told him.” Eris stated matter of factly as he moved towards the dining table.
Azriel saw that there was already a table setting with a half eaten bowl of food that Eris was making his way towards.
Sitting in his chair Eris pointed over towards a pot on the stove and said. “If you would like any you are more than welcome to it shadowsinger. It’s an Autumn court specialty, and for some reason I get the distinct feeling that you are hungry.”
As if in response to his remark Azriel’s stomach grumbled quietly. Rather than embarrassing himself by refusing as he body had already clearly betrayed him he decided it would be better to simply eat some of the food to appease both the gnawing in his stomach and to prevent Eris from making some snarky comment.
An empty bowl and table settings appeared across from Eris with the wave of the male's hand. Azriel quickly filled his rather oddly blob shaped bowl, perhaps some sort of pretentious Autumn Court traditional soup bowl he thought to himself as he returned to the table and sat finding that Eris had already finished his food and was watching him intently. Pulling out his chair to sit, Azriel noticed for the first time that the chair was low backed and perfectly made to accommodate his wings. Looking around the room again as he sat, Azriel realized that it was not just his chair but every piece of furniture in the home was crafted to accommodate wings.
As if sensing his thoughts Eris spoke up. “Never know who might come by for a visit and where they might like to sit.” The male shrugged in an act of nonchalance but Azriel saw a hidden tension below that mask of indifference. It was of no matter, he had many other questions that needed to be answered this evening and Eris’s taste in furniture was at the very bottom of his list.
Recognizing how silent the room had grown Azriel spoke up. “So you were telling me of Calanmai.”
“Yes I was wasn’t I.” Eris said a mischievous glint in his amber eyes. “As I was saying you’ve heard of Calanmai which is where fae give back to the land so that the magic of the land is replenished for the year to come.”
Azriel nodded his head in indication that he was still listening and following what Eris was saying.
“While the High Lord should have complete sovereignty over their land sometimes that is not the case. Particularly in the seasonal courts if the High Lord is not giving back to the land himself or not encouraging his people to do so the Mother may chose to relinquish some of the power of the land and gift it to another so that there is another outlet for returning to the land. Instead of seeking out the most powerful, the Land will seek out one who has the call of the earth through their veins, whose toes remain rooted in her ground while accepting the call of the wind upon their skin. Essentially the Mother will seek out someone who reflects the very heart of land herself in hopes of balancing out the power and ensuring that the land receives what it needs in order to maintain the magic.” Eris paused as though waiting for Azriel to come to a conclusion and as each price of the puzzle locked Azriel couldn’t help as his lips parted in shock.
“The land chose you didn’t it?” If Azriel hadn’t been so caught off guard he probably would have laughed at the absurdity of it all.
“Yes.” Eris stated plainly as he continued to watch Azriel, gauging his reaction.
Azriels mind whirled as he tried to understand the implications of what that meant. The fact that the land could find something in Eris spoke nothing of his goodness; it only spoke of the evil that must clearly permeate the very soil of the Autumn court for the land to have chosen a male such as Eris.
“Why?” The question was meant to sound callous and judgemental but instead all it gave off was a wave of genuine curiosity.
“I don't exactly fit your picture of someone worthy of the power of the lands do I?” Eris asked, raising a brow imperiously.
Continuing on before Azriel could answer he said.
“Much like Calanmai is a ritual of giving back to the land there are smaller everyday ways in which you can still give back to the land and bless her with both your magic and with physical actions. For example when I was a boy I would go in our lumber fields after they had been cleared for the season. I would plant seeds that I gathered throughout the year in the place of each downed tree. I would return to land that which was taken from her, imbuing each plot of soil with a small grain of my magic to ensure the trees would grow to maturity. I was giving back to the land when it was being taken from.”
“So you planted a few trees and the land suddenly decided that you were worthy of a portion of her magic.”Azriel could feel his eyes roll in disbelief as his shadows danced on the table between the pair of fae.
“Seems like a far stretch. How is that different than the farmer who plants his harvest or the artist who reverently paints the land's beauty?”
Pale slender fingers drummed across the table as sparks began to dance towards the shadowsinger.
“Firstly, it is not a sudden decision made on the whim of simply one moment. It is the land watching and weighing the worth of a fae both in action and heart. Seeking a source with the capacity to hold the power she will imbue and knowing that the power given will be used for her good and growth. It is the compilation of a lifetime of seemingly insignificant moments that have been judged by the land as sacrificial for the land and her people.”
The flames and shadows continued to dance between the two though neither reached out to touch the males as silence stretched thin across the space. Azriel could feel his empty fingers twitching towards Truth-Teller in the growing silence.
“So you are telling me that the insignificance of your life led to the land for some ridiculous reason choosing you.”
Scarred fingers clenched a now empty spoon as the temperature of the room intensified, thought the flames on the table remained unchanged.
“I should not expect you to understand the gravity of questioning the authority of a power so significant and ancient as the land as the so called pinnacle of your beloved court is so far removed from the reverence and veneration of the ways of old it would be impossible to fully comprehend the magnitude of your audacity in that statement.
The shifting dance of light and darkness glittered against hardened amber eyes.
“Questioning the will of the land is widely considered heresy that you and your precious citizens of Velaris could never understand. The traditions and customs of your court have been suppressed to the point of oppression, lost in the name of so called progress and radical revolution. What you fail to see is that true progress cannot be made if the foundation of your power is not founded in the truth of where your power lies and instead relies upon the farce of false titles and glorified achievements.”
Power roiled thick in the air heavy with heat as sparks danced in amber eyes and shadows twined with hazel.
A stilling breath as amber eyes slid closed and dancing flames disappeared, words fluttering so softly on the barely there breath of wind that Azriel nearly missed them.
“Nou se lanmè, nou pa kenbe kras.”
Chilled wind and the scent of roses as a gentle hand cupped a small face, wild curls brushed away from hazel eyes.
Clay cracked under scarred fingertips as Azriel makes to lunge across the table.
“How do you–” Dagger point suddenly brought up short by a wall of shadows.
Do not hurt pitit gason dife
“Silence!” Pulling harshly against the writhing darkness as he pulls back, steadying himself against the table with his fists.
“You do not get to take his–” A rich resonate chuckle breaks his titrade as the male across the narrow distance sparkled with mirth.
“You scold those little shades as though they are rambunctious defiant younglings.” Embarrassment flushed Azriel’s face as he threw himself back into his chair in defeat giving a final but futile tug as the dark wisps as only a few returned to his beckoning hand.
“They certainly are defiant.” He grumbled under his breath looking under darkened eyelashes to meet Eris’ eyes but was met with the back of the prince of fire’s finely embroidered emerald green vest. Swirls of gold trailing down from the neck along the center seam to a pair of rather tight brown trousers.
Mother above either those trousers were imbued with some sort of eye catching charm or the Cauldron unfairly deemed it wise to bless this male in ways far too favorable for a fae of less than scrupulous virtues.
The clearing of a throat breaking the eyeful of intrusive thoughts.
An auburn eyebrow quirked in question and confusion.
“I asked if you would like another bowl of soup, Shadowsinger.”
Another futile tug against the bond with his wispy little friends in an attempt to obscure the burning he could feel at the tips of his ears running down his neck.
Looking down in hopes of hiding the continuing spread of heat fanning across his face he noticed the shattered bowl spread across the table with bits of meat and vegetables.
“I— I umm seem to have found other purposes for my soup than consumption.”
Meat and vegetables disappeared along with the puddles of soup spotting across the table and dripping to the floor as clay clinked together.
“Ahh yes a fine mess you’ve made of my brother's finest creation. Made that for me when he was just shy of five you know. Irreplaceable that was.” Azriel watched the clay pieces slotting together, cracks disappearing as though they never existed, a slight furrow between auburn brows, a somber downward pull to pale lips.
For a male so frigid, surrounded by a court overflowing with the most wicked and cruel fae in all of Prythian Eris seemed uncharacteristically upset, or as upset as Azriel had ever seen him, over a broken bowl.
Words fed by curiosity flowed before Azriel could even register his own thoughts.
“And just which brother do we have to thank for this particular abomination?” He turned the newly melded bowl between scarred fingers as he twisted it about, gaining better perspective over the many lumps and bumps adorning the vaguely bowl shaped object.
“That would be Harbin.”
Azriel quickly rotated through his knowledge of the Vancerra line and what he knew of this brother. Nothing in recent reports of a brother Harbin meaning this must be one of the two long passed.
Harbin and Aiden brothers to fireheart, slain in grief, remembered by few.
Seems that this information was worth the shadows while to return to their master once again as the swarmed over his shoulders whispering secrets of pasts long forgotten.
A sad smile twisted across Eris’ face as scarred fingers suddenly closed around air as the clay bowl disappeared and his hands fell towards the table landing on a cold metal below.
The fireling grieves still for his brothers. He remembers them as no one else can.
“Am I to assume this is yet another brother's creation or have I perhaps been restricted to less precious wares?” He spun the bowl around noticing the fine detailing of the metalwork along the rim of the bowl, branches and leaves twining together, branching and reaching out as though searching for new places to continue growing.
“That would be Aiden when he was around nine, and he would be less than pleased to know that his creation ended up in your hands. Never was a big fan of yours.”
The pot of soup drifted over and began to pour into the bowl before Azriel as steam rose, momentarily obscuring Eris’ face from his.
“Was? Another dead brother then.” Azriel already knew this to be true as the shadows continue to incessantly pester him with useless information of males long gone.
Harbin enjoyed the way the sun floated between the branches of Autumn.
Aiden was a wild one who knew no fear and had no enemy.
A sigh, heavy with emotion as the steam of the soup dissipated and Eris’ pointed face came back into view. A far off look not too different from longing painted the prince’s face.
“Dead is such a passive word. It sounds as if it is an inevitable thing that comes to pass and is simply something that is. A fact. A statement of being. It is not something that feels accurate to who they were nor what they came to be.”
Slender pale fingers drummed along a pointed jaw and Eris’s eyes continued to search some distant spot past Azriel’s shoulder.
“I think, perhaps a better word would be undone. Two males so completely and utterly undone by the cruelty of a male whose only job should have been to love them.”
A glimmer there and gone again in blinking amber eyes.
“Somehow that seems to be the only job he did not manage to ever accomplish. His desire for power shaking and uprooting his sons to have them fall like leaves in the wind, falling gently only to be crushed under a boot smeared in the blood of those daring to stand in his way.”
The twitch of a nose, a hand rubbing along a jaw and moving to idlily pull at a strand of fire red hair before a rumbling clearing of a throat and a halfhearted smirk tossed lazily across lips worried red by teeth.
“Never one for subtlety were you shadowsinger. Did you not learn common courtesy when inquiring about dead family members, never ask questions and always offer condolences. Certainly do not allow the ramblings of a male lingering in grief of times lost.”
A chair scrapes against the floor as Eris stands, moving his hands to gather the contents of the table.
“If you are sufficiently full I think we should move this conversation to a more stimulating location.”
Azriel was surprised to look down at his bowl and see nothing but the empty scraping of a spoon against metal as he must have been so consumed with Eris that he had not noticed eating.
Arms gathering bowls and utensils along with a partially filled pot clattering them noisy against the countertop as he placed the pot back on the stove, lid placed gently over the remaining food.
Azriel found his feet moving unthinkingly, meeting Eris beside the sink as he watched the prince of Autumn wash not only his own dishes but the dishes of an Illyrian bastard.
Looking back he would never be able to say precisely why he did what he did, all he knows is that is was simply what he needed to do in that moment.
The towel hung off the edge of the countertop as though thrown there halfway between one thought and another. A cloth of green so dark it could have been mistaken as black, were Azriel not so well versed in the many varieties of black he may have assumed the same, however the first thing he noted it that the color was identical to colour of the clay bowl he had so carelessly shattered earlier in the night.
A scarred hand reached for a wet bowel dripping steadily where it leaned against the counter and the sill of the window. He felt Eris stiffen beside him and his wings pulled in tight to lean across the space and place the now dry bowl on the shelf across the sink.
It was less than a minute before every dish was washed, dried, and put away in the appropriate place and it was simultaneously one of the most comfortable and natural moments Azirel had ever experienced in his long life and one of the most profoundly confusing moments he had ever stumbled into.
Eris turned to face him and he felt the air shift with the heat surrounding the prince. So close. Too close.
Not close enough.
How could this male he had hated his entire life be the person standing before him. Someone who could be so cruelly, vicious, and vile be the same person who washes his own dishes, who still mourned for his brothers centuries gone, who apparently the land itself deemed as worthy of being gifted Her power. His mind felt like a bird caught in a storm simply being blown this way and that unsure of how to land.
His mind latched onto the only thing that he knew with any certainty, attempting to drag himself down from the winds of the storm.
“What happened with Mor?” A question wrapped in the barbs on centuries of hatred and mistrust.
A laugh rich and deep filled the narrow space between them.
“Again with the lack of subtlety, why am I not surprised shadowsinger.” Azriel barely caught the words as he was too caught up in the honest to cauldron laugh that came from Eris’ lips. Cheeks bright with joy as the male continued to chuckle at Azriel’s apparent ineptness.
Make him laugh again!
So pretty when he laughs!
Azriel choked as his shadows continued to swarm about exalting the many praiseworthy attributes of Eris’ laugh.
A quick turn as the end of a red braid brushed against Azriel’s shirt and Eris began walking towards the sitting area, the spymaster following closely behind.
Eris chose the seat nearest the door, leaving Azriel the opposite chair which faced the only exit and Azrie was fairly certain that seating choice was intentional. No warrior, much less general, desires to leaving their back exposed to unknown attack from entry and exit points.
He found himself sipping his chin in thanks as they both adjusted in their chairs. Someone Eris managed to look both relaxed and at ease and perfectly poised and out together, not a hair out of place, red braid gently flowing over a shoulder.
“While there is certainly more to the story than you may yet know unfortunately it is not my story to tell. It is not my truth to tell.”
“This meeting is going to be a completely waste of time if you cannot answer my question truthfully.” Azriel could hear the anger in his voice but he already knew that was a lie and the meeting had not be a waste of time as he knew far more about Eris than he ever thought possible.
Eris seemed to wage some kind of internal war as his eyes flashed through a variety of emotions too quickly for Azriel to place.
“Shadowsinger, I cannot— I am unable to tell you anything beyond the fact that one of the most influential reasons that the land chose me was because of that night and the decisions I had to make the night. The consequences I had to bear because of it. I cannot tell you more than that. Any further truth you seek on the subject with have to come from the lips of your precious Morrigan or your own astute observational skill which most unfortunately appear to be severely lacking in this area.”
Azriel wanted to scream. He wanted to throttle Eris. He wanted to run Truth-teller across his pretty throat and watch as his blood spilt across the floors of his little hidden home.
“I fail to see how you can be so cavalier about such a genius act. You act so high and mighty all because the land had some misguided moment and allowed you to become corrupted with power you never deserved.”
Shadows writhed as Ariele’s voice raised till he was scream at the far across from him.
“You speak of consequence you had to pay for your actions but what of the consequences other had to pay for you actions? What in the holy mother could be so terrible when you left a girl suffering and dying. She would have died had I not found her.”
A pale hand raised and Azriel found his jaw locking of its own accord.
“And how exactly do you think you were so fortunate to find her so quickly shadowsinger? You are a very talented male but even you could not have scoured the entire Autumn border before she died.”
The fire in the hearth grew uncomfortably hot as Eris gripped his thrives so tightly his already pale finger became impossibly whiter.
“You speak of suffering you do not understand. An entire town was razed to the ground in the wake of my fathers anger over your Morrigan’s infidelity. Upon her escape, because yes even that was an escape from what could have been. I faced the rath of a High Lord alone. Worse, I faced the wrath of my father alone. You are not the only one who is personality acquainted on the prisoners end of a cell.”
A dark humorless chuckle, nothing like the laugh of earlier, as amber eyes blazed with flame.
“My father probably would have enjoyed having your specific skill set around, but then I suppose he would not have had the pleasure of doing the dirty work himself. I was only a ch—.”
A word choked and swallowed as though it burned on the way down.
The silence lingered for far longer than was comfortable but Ariel was still trying to piece together and process every word spoken like a blade piecing through tender flesh. It was a puzzle in which he had all the peices but he had no idea what the picture he was building was supposed to look like and so he randomly shoved pieces together over and over hoping something would match. That something would make sense.
A creeping thought. A doubt. A question.
“Eris. How old were you when the engagement was as broken.”
Not a word spoken, only a curt shake of the head.
Azriel tried recalling what Eris had written in his letter.
532!
The prince is 532!
A swirling vortex of shadow and thought as a price of the picture became clearer.
“You were fuking nine! What sort of fuking parents allow a nine year or to be betrothed. Why the fuck did you never say anything? You were a fucking child—“
Azriel remembered how just a moment ago Eris had been cut off trying to say that exact word.
“You can’t. That’s what you meant when you said you cannot talk about the think with Mor you mean you literally can’t.”
His mind was once more bird caught in a storm unable to land. Caught between rage and confusion without a direction to turn.
“Shadowsinger.”
That deep velvety voice carried across the winds of his thoughts, and anchor leading him back to his body.
“Shadows buzzed anxiously around him but the first thing he noticed upon open his eyes were pricing amber eyes meeting his own. Steady and unwavering, the flames a gentle soothing flicker.
“We may speak about his another time.”
A pale hand swept across the table between the chairs as a chess board and pieces fell into place one by one.
“Play a game with me.”
A statement followed by a quick move of a bishop naught Azriel’s thoughts to a slow. The thoughts in his mind still swirled but rather at a low simmer than a raging boil.
Hours passed as pieces moved across the board. A game ending simply meant the start to another. The silence swallowing the small space but not in an uncomfortable way, more in a safe way. As though this was the way things had always been and the way they always would be. Games of chess as a tool of distraction of busy and overwhelmed minds.
All the while Azriel thought and he thought and he thought. He thought untill his felt weightless floating between one thought and the next simply randomly bumping the next thought in his path.
This distracted state of mind may have been why Eris won four games in a row, at least that’s what Azriel would claim when looking back.
During that time he also managed to memorize the placement of every line and crackled catered across Eris’ hands. Watching each subtle movement as prices danced across the board.
Eventually the fire turned to coals and the board became unseeable as Azriel became aware of his surroundings once more.
“That is enough for one evening.” Eris declared as he rose to his feet sticking out his hand.
Azriel rose and met Eris’s palm with his own, a firm shake before scarred fingers returned to his side twitch at the absence of warmth.
“You play a decent game for someone who managed to lose every round.”
Azriel surprised himself with a chuckle as he followed Eris to the door.
“Perhaps we will have to play again sometime when I am not having to root through an entire life of lies and half truths.”
Pink lips curling into a sly smile.
“I doubt that would help you but you can always dream of my defeat shadowsinger.”
“I feel as though I have learned a great many new truths tonight and yet I still feel as lost as ever around you.”
A brush of fingers barely fleeting, there and gone again and yet burning in their wake.
“I may have a few more truths that I am give you shadowsinger.”
They had reached the balcony railing and without another word or whisper between the two Azriel folded into the shadows and shot out above the canopy of the Autumn trees. He was met with the dark hazy blue of the sky just before the morning sun begins to make her way into the first reaches of the day.
Azriel felt exhausted to his very core. The perspective shift and understanding thrown upon him throughout the course of the evening was wildly jarring but at the same time it seemed to settle a restless piece of Azriel that he did not even know he had.
There was so much he felt like he did not understand. So much he yearned to know. So much mystery all wrapped around one male.
There were few things Azriel enjoyed more than discovering and understanding. He wanted to know not only of what but why. He wanted to look at something in its totality and se wit for what it was. He wanted to see Eris in his totality and understand who he is.
Perhaps he would have to ask Eris for more of those truths after all.