The Whispers of Shadows - Azriel

1

"Breakfast!" The withered voice of their maid called through the first floor of the house. Aurora peeled her tired eyes open, whining when they burned. Nonetheless, she peeled off her sleep clothes and dressed in the warmest of leggings and wool dresses and ran out her door. Oberon was already sat at the table with Aldric, pointing out a map and explaining the many techniques he had used during the war; nearly a daily occurrence.

Aurora ate in silence, glancing out the window to see the sparkling snow sending blinding light through the windows. A clear day, hopefully a clear night. "We will visit the blacksmith before training. Your sword is dull on the tip and dented in the center of the blade. Respect your weapons, son. They will be your greatest savior in battle," Oberon spoke, ruffling the boy's hair. Aurora glanced at the blade that rested against the table. It looked fine to her, pristine almost.

She watched silently as Oberon and Aldric shoveled their food into their mouths, like the barbarians they were, and leave the table. Her brow quirked when Aldric opened the coat room door, throwing the blade into it. It clattered against the floor, though the men paid no attention as they gathered their coats and left.

Aurora was meant to stay home and help the maid with the cleaning for the day, but her promise to herself did not fade from her mind. She didn't want to be weak any longer. She wanted to wield a sword just as well as Aldric. Aurora ran to the window, watching her father and brother trek up the snowy hill to the center of the village. It was her chance, they wouldn't be home until sundown.

Her small legs carried her to the coat room door, swinging it open. She grabbed the hilt of the sword, gasping when she could hardly lift it. Were the steel blades truly this heavy? How could Aldric stand to carry it?

She was determined, however. Aurora grabbed her heaviest coat, throwing it on over her dress. She dragged the sword from the room, cringing as the tip left scratches in the wooden floor. Using all of her strength, Aurora lifted the blade from the floor and heaved herself towards the front door. Alina, the maid, didn't seem to notice as the small girl left the cottage, dragging the sword through the snow and up the hill, settling when she was overlooking the warriors training fields.

Oberon had purchased a home near the training fields as soon as he had earned his position in the armies. He wanted to be able to watch his soldiers whenever he chose.

Aurora sat on a boulder in the snow, the blade on her lap as she waited for the soldiers to gather. For two hours she waited. She didn't know the schedule of training, only that it was everyday. As soon as they gathered in the field below her, Aurora kept to her feet, gripping the sword with two hands. She did her best to copy each movement the warriors made, but she was much smaller, much weaker than they were.

The wind howled, blowing her hair across her eyes as she attempted each movement, each strategy. Her arms were aching halfway through. Aurora pushed herself, gritting her teeth as she willed her arms to lift the sword and imitate the warriors. It wasn't long before she could no longer lift the blade. Her arms burned, cheeks pink from the wind burning her skin. When she could no longer bring the tip from the snow, Aurora kicked at the ground next to the boulder. When dirt appeared, she dropped the sword onto the earth and buried it beneath the biting cold.

She had gone home, laid in bed and slept until nearly sundown, and then had gone down to help Alina prepare dinner. This was her routine for several weeks, determined to be stronger than Aldric. It seemed impossible, he had been training ever since he could walk. Aurora didn't mind, she wanted to be able to shove her brother into the coat room for a change.

Alina had begun to question Aurora of her whereabouts, knowing she was meant to help clean all day, but hadn't shown up until supper. Aurora only smiled cheekily and told her that she had been playing in the snow. Alina's eyes seemed to twitch and her lips pressing into a fine line before ordering the child to cut the onions for the soup.

Aurora began waking early, doing a majority of her chores before the sun rose so that Alina wouldn't have a reason to search for her during the training hours. It began to be her most exciting adventure yet: Sneaking after the warriors and copying their movements.

Even after a few months, she couldn't lift the sword very high. She had begun to memorize the movements, however. Aurora would stay up later, drawing her blinds and practicing the swordplay with a stick from the woodpile.

This continued until Aurora was eighteen. Each year, she'd practice in her room and steal her brother's battered swords. She had grown more fierce over the years, fighting back when her brother would terrorize her. As he reached his maturity, his focus fell more into training. He slowly began to forget his sister's existence.

Oberon had as well. That is, until wealthy fae males had begun to inquire about his daughter's hand in marriage. They didn't care for the bastardized girl, but wanted the favor of their general. Most males that asked about her were soldiers, dirty and egotistical, looking to get a hand-up in the ranks.

Oberon had surprised Aurora by speaking to her at supper one night, mentioning a particular male that had caught his eye in training. Aurora had snorted, despising the idea of marriage at a young age, though Oberon demanded she meet the male and bond with him.

They had gone on supervised walks in the fields, Aurora pretending to ogle over his skills with a dagger, but knowing she could remove it from his hands before he could blink. Cormac was his name, and he had won over her father. Aurora was forced into marriage, forced from her home and into the cottage Cormac had bought with the hefty sum Oberon had gifted him.

It was miserable, and Cormac treated her the same as Oberon or Aldric would've. Screamed at her, threw things at her, and forced her into his bed in desire for a child. Their marriage lasted three years, but one day, Oberon saw his daughter on the hill. He saw her wielding a sword, something forbidden among the women of the Winter Court. He had dragged her by her despicable crimson hair into the basement of the training quarters. In the dark and cold, her truly worst nightmare. She was left there for two weeks with only herself before they began to bring her meals, only the lowest of soldiers getting the job. And there she remained, at the males' mercy for centuries.