When he purchased the land, he did it under a moniker, disguising himself as a prince he'd met years ago. Their features were similar enough that the landowner was easily swayed, believing that Aziel was purchasing the land to build him self a leisure home for the summer. Which was not entirely a lie. In the next few weeks, they would be erecting a larger home that would house the new king of this budding kingdom.
Trio began making his rounds, assisting the new villagers with their chores and tasks as best as he could. Aziel watched him for a moment, smiling fondly before he turned and headed in the direction of the burly man that was barking orders at some of the young ones.
"Listen here, we have six more hours of daylight and I need all of you putting a little more elbow grease into your work. Raven, stop moping and pick up that ax!" Thorn was a large man—too large to not be a threat. Appearance aside, he had a soft spot for the young ones. He taught them how to work hard, but he also loved them. They were the children that'd lost everything. All of them had lost parents in the camps, but some of them had lost every single family member they ever had.
"Aziel!" Raven exclaimed. The boy charged for him, slamming himself into Aziel's stomach and squeezing him as tightly as possible. Aziel stiffened. Never good with physical contact unless he was punching something, the assassin lifted his eyes to meet Thorn's, a subtle plea for help.
"Alright, alright. Let the man go, Rave. Some people don't like being hugged."
When he said it like that, it made Aziel hate himself even more. The hatred only grew when he saw Raven's disappointment, the slight frown he wore as he picked up his ax and walked away. Aziel sighed. "You couldn't just let him think that I was alright with it?"
Thorn shook his head. "I'm raising aboy, Aziel. One I expect to grow into a man that respects boundaries. It's a fine line you walk with boys."
"No one raised me and look how I turned out."
"Aye, yes, look how you turned out— just as murderous and bloodthirsty as they come."
Aziel gave a lazy smirk, shrugging as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Ihave no issues with accepting someone's boundaries. So, there's that."
A deep laugh sounded from Thorn, his bright green eyes twinkling. "Yes, there is that." He shook his head before looking down at Aziel's hands, his lips forming a tight line. "Did you find her?"
"She found me." Aziel sighed. "Unfortunately I was in a very compromising position, but shedidfind me." He forced a chuckle to hide his disgust with himself.
"You had your pants around your ankles or something?"
Aziel made a face. "Orsomething. Anyway, I have been keeping an eye on her. I thought that she was planning to kill my father and my brother."
"And why not just let her kill them?" Thorn whispered. "You hate your father.Yaarhates your father."
There was no easy way to explain it. It was not love, it was not respect, nor was there a single ounce ofcarethat he felt when looking at his father. It wasn't even the fear of missing out on any potential relationship between the two of them—he'd given up that hopeyearsago. In fact, there was no good reason why he didn't let Nymiria or anyone else just go right ahead and gut them all. "She could gut Dorid in front of me right this second and I wouldn't bat an eye. But Oran is different, Thorn. I told you that." He sighed. "I was wrong, anyway. She changed."
"Changed? What do you mean by that?"
She wasn't the person he was expecting her to be. He expected for her to hate everyone just as much as he did, that it would be some kind of natural instinct. But after seeing her fawn all over his brother and play pretty pet to his father, he didn't know what to think. He tried reminding himself of what Desi said—that she could have just been acting, but he didn't believe it. Him clinging to the hope that shewasthe person who wrote those threats was all that he had. Now, with great frustration with both himself and fate, he was forced to despise her, too.
"She's been too long without fae influence, Thorn." Aziel shook his head. "Ten years is a long time."
The burly man folded his arms across his chest, his gaze turning to the sky in remembrance of the little princess he'd spent most of his days chasing around the palace. He'd been the closest person to Inasha, Nymiria's mother. "Perhaps you should get to know her. Maybe itisan act. Everyone has to survive somehow."
"You haven't seen the way she looks at Oran. At everything. Shetriesto be one of them—please them."
"Then do your best to change her mind, little charmer. I know you are more than capable."
Certainly, he was capable of charming many people. He'd inherited the Yaarborough's good looks, along with his mother's ethereal beauty. He was nearly an unstoppable force, but his personality had a tendency to act as a repellent in terms of wooing—something that he had only ever attemptedonce, years ago, before this cruel world ripped away any hope of him having normal relationships. After a while, the desire to find love vanished completely.
"You certainly are the brooding type, aren't you?" Thorn chuckled. "Gods above, boy. Smile a little." He clapped Aziel on the shoulder, earning a subtle roll of the eyes.
"Smiling hurts my face." Aziel grumbled. "I'm also worried about wrinkling. Crows feet. Around the eyes." Thorn let out a loud laugh, finally shoving Aziel into the direction of the clearing where Inasha's castle once stood. Though there was nothing left of the once-grande castle, there was still an air of unease that could be felt as they passed by the rubble. That palace had housed Seelie rulers for thousands of years, passed down through one of the longest-running bloodlines in all of Gaellagh history. To see it reduced to ash made Aziel's skin prickle uncomfortably, his guilt like a rock in his stomach.
"Of all the things I've done," Aziel began. "Burning this palace down was the one thing I regret. I would have loved to see it one more time."
Thorn frowned. "Why? There wasn't a damn thing left to take pride in. Nothing but pain and heartache left here."
"It was beautiful."
"It wasdarkness."
He remembered the palace. He remembered walking the crystalline halls when his mother brought him to meet her parents, in complete awe with the brightness of the magical world that surrounded him. It was a vast difference from the damp darkness of the spired prison he was raised in. The women were all dressed in flowing, gauzy gowns, their hair braided in intricate designs that showed off the peaks of their pointed ears, which were usually decorated in silver cuffs. Each wore diadems upon their heads, large jewels gleaming in the center of their foreheadsthat represented their elemental powers. The men, all of them large and proud, were branded with silver tattoos, their family trees permanently marking them. Thorn still bore his markings proudly—the silver names forever flowing over the length of his back, which was now covered by a ruddy tunic, stained with sweat and dirt. He didn't remember it being a place filled with darkness. But, then again, he and Thorn had very different experiences within those walls.
