Chapter Text
Azriel had spent the whole night in the training ring. He started by punching the bags and wood and dummies, then blasting the log with his Siphoned power. Anything to take the edge off.
He was used to nights of no sleep- Hell, he was in the Night Court, they practically stayed up every time the sun went down. But today he wasn't wearing fatigue as well as normal, at least judging by the once-overs Cassian kept giving him. At least his edge was dulled for now, hidden away. The training had been to prevent him from yelling, crying, blowing holes in his room. Because it was going to set in, what he was losing- his last chance- and he'd be screaming at some point soon. But not in any of his suites- in the barracks of the Dawn Court.
As soon as the ceremony was over, Azriel would be joining the Dawn Legion in its preperation for a second war with Hybern. He'd be their only shadowsinger, an asset, and one of few Illyrians- a good instructor. Az would be enlisted until the war was over and won- which could be in months, or years.
Rhys had mentioned it offhand, an offer the spymaster hadn't actually considered until Lucien brought forth his news.
He and Elain were getting married- as well as accepting the bond- to solidify alliances for the upcoming war. Lucien was to return from the human lands to the Autumn Court, and Elain was to stay- at least for the majority of their lives- there with him. Living together. Just plain together.
Azriel felt something deep and essential in his heart break when the words left the male's lips. His chance- the possibility of speaking to the delicate, gardening female was about to slip through his fingers.
And Elain had accepted it. Azriel hadn't been there for the conversation, but however it was proposed, she and Lucien were choosing each other.
A shadow had whispered to him then, in the comforting way it always had, that the arrangement was probably just for political convenience. Lucien wouldn't want to leave the human lands, and Elain wouldn't want to leave her sisters.
But that didn't stop the fear, rage and sorrow, that filled him from boot to wingtip. Elain was going with the male, sacrificing all she had and all she could be, for her lands and her family. And Azriel couldn't do anything about it.
The worst thought, the possibility which he tried to push away but still came back to him in the deep of the night, was that she thought she'd be better off there. That Azriel's rejection on Solstice had broken her heart, broken her self-love, and she thought being isolated from everyone she knew and loved was the only way to recover herself. That accepting a mating bond they all knew she didn't want, just to keep distance between herself and Azriel, would make her happy.
It broke him. It broke him knowing she would only be coming back to visit on birthdays or Starfall- or Solstice, in a terrifyingly lonely reprise of their last.
So he enlisted in the Dawn Legion, with Rhys's permission and knowing his services would be useful. Knowing he had no reason not to; Elain wouldn't be here anymore. And finally, knowing that distance from the River House living room where they had almost kissed, that would soon be devoid of her scent, would be necessary to maintain his sanity. To not lose his mind from how much he missed her, loved her.
And so he had spent the night punching and letting out his death magic- to give it somewhere to go, in the first of what would be many fights against himself, against letting it destroy his own mind and body. The night before the wedding, the night he needed it most. He'd be leaaving right after the reception, grabbing his packed bags from the shadows and taking off for the Dawn Court. The only place he could distract himself from the girl who made flowers grow and life bloom with her smile.