Olethros

eleven - freyja

"I thought I'd bring you some water."

My heart lurched as I turned my head. Azriel stood in the center of the sitting room, a pitcher in hand. I don't know why, but I didn't respond. I just stared at him, sat on my rear on the dirty floor. I watched his eyelids flutter, a tendril of darkness climbing his throat. I wondered what they spoke to him in this silence. He sat the pitcher down, casting a short glance to the shattered glass and spilled wine before walking towards me.

I couldn't believe I'd pined after this male for so long. As a child, it had been a silly little crumb of attraction. I always thought he was pretty. Now I thought he was cruel, wicked, and so much more desirable. I turned my eyes away, clearing my throat as I gazed back down to the criminal exchange beneath us.

I felt his presence as he kneeled beside me. Through the scent of wine on my tongue, I could smell the whiskey on his. I turned my head ever so slightly, stealing a glance through the corner of my eye. The shadows beneath his eyes were not living. They were markers of lack of sleep and maybe even whatever the darkness told him.

"There's no point for them to hide their faces down there. Everyone knows what they do in these neighborhoods. There's no point in trying to stop them," Azriel murmured. I could hear the slight slur on his tongue.

"You're drunk," I breathed out, leaning closer to the window.

"So are you," he answered drily. I wondered why he didn't scold me for that.

"What brought you to drown in whiskey tonight, Azriel?"

Whatever that wine was made of, it had my thoughts falling from my lips like the waterfalls below the mountains around the Moonstone Palace. I turned my gaze just in time to see his lip twitch. What did he look like when he smiled?

"I have an endless list of reasons, Freyja. What are yours?"

My mouth felt dry as I dropped my gaze to my hands. I wanted to fight back the words that burned my tongue and lips. The wine didn't allow me to suppress them; or maybe it was the fact that I finally had someone who would listen to me.

"I'd rather die than be married off. I don't want to move from one prison to another. I would do anything to stop him, Az. I really would," I murmured, picking at the skin at the edge of my broken nail. He was silent for so long, I thought the presence I felt may be phantom, but when I glanced up, he was looking at me.

"Why wouldn't you want to be the Lady of a court? Your mother has wealth and the freedom to do as she pleases."

I scoffed, dropping my gaze again. "My mother is as much a prisoner as I am. She may have wealth and status, but she is to obey my father's every command. When I stole that coin from him today, there was another female naked in his bed. I don't want to marry a male that uses me for necessity but not love or pleasure. I want to feel needed."

"Is she not satisfied, though?"

I met his gaze again. He looked genuinely curious, as though he never put thought to how a female lived in this court.

"What female would be satisfied with being silenced and ordered? Used and forgotten, sent away to another part of the court to raise a child that the father doesn't love? Maybe she's satisfied with locking herself away to create gowns for Rhys's future lover, but I would never be. I don't want to sit silently. I want to be at his side to make the important decisions. I want to defend the home with my own weapon; I want to provide stability for my family. Cauldron, I'm not even sure I want a family. I just want the chance to figure it out on my own."

He didn't respond to that. Maybe for good reason. I just told him that I didn't want any part of the natural female responsibility. A male couldn't fathom a female who wanted more than a pretty ring and a nice home.

His fingers twitched on his thigh and I wondered if he itched to touch me like I did him. I almost laughed at myself- no, I did. A snort left me as I shook my head.

"What?" He asked. I turned my eyes back to the window, almost startled by the lack of light. Had it truly gotten so late?

"Nothing. I know I sound foolish. I cannot have responsibility and love. I cannot wield a sword and expect a male to fall to his knees for me. I know my duties, I just wish to escape them for a while," I murmured.

"I don't find that foolish. Wanting love is natural, I would assume. Our minds always want more, whether it's love, comfort, wealth, power. It doesn't matter. We are all greedy in nature," he responded, and that shocked me. I leaned my head against the window, shifting my body to face him. As graceful as the most skilled dancers, Azriel moved to mimic my posture. Wings brushed my shoulder, making a shiver run down my spine. He was far enough away that my hand couldn't reach him, but his presence was just as intoxicating as that damned wine.

"And what are you greedy for?"

His eyes dropped to my mouth ever so subtly, I thought I may have imagined it. His tongue ran over his own lips as he turned his gaze onto mine. I swore it held a depth I'd never seen before- desire so strong, it would take centuries to satisfy.

"Violence. I want more of it, each time I lay a blade on someone's flesh. I can't get enough."

That wasn't what I thought his desire was meant for, but it chilled my bones either way. I turned my face away in hopes he couldn't see the shock flash through me.

"Does that scare you?"

Did it? I didn't think so. It shocked me more. I knew how he felt after the war. I could see the change in his demeanor, the way his face never held emotion. It was as though part of his soul was left in the battlefields. How he craved more bloodshed, I couldn't understand.

"No," I finally answered.

I turned my head back to him. Azriel wasn't looking at me any longer. His eyes were on the shattered glass and spilled wine in the kitchen. I took that time to study him as thoroughly as the wine would let me. His dark lashes long and curled so beautifully. He had the hint of scruff on his jaw, as though he hadn't thought to shave in a couple days. Even though he seemed at ease, the muscle in his jaw ticked and I could see the quick set of his pulse on his neck. I wanted to trace my fingertips over the hard line of his jaw, the straightness in his nose, the line of tension between his brows.

My fingers twitched, just as his had before. I couldn't make good on the thoughts in my mind before he was rising to his feet, brushing the dirt from his trousers.

"Drink some of that water, leave the rest for bathing and rinsing the chamber pot. I'll be back with more tomorrow."

I couldn't even speak before he was gone, following the growing shadows in the dim room. My head rolled against the window as I looked to the pitcher he had left. I couldn't help but feel like I'd gotten the slightest bit closer to him tonight, just for him to pull away further. Maybe the wine could be a blessing. Maybe it would fuel more of these conversations. It made me feel like I wasn't so alone, and maybe he felt that, too.