I ran a hand down my face in frustration as I walked away from the portal door. It took everything within me to not run after her and pull her back into my arms, where she belonged.
I hated that I had to let her go. My most precious gift should be by my side, under my care and protection. Instead, she was in a whole other world, the farthest she could be from me.
I don't know how long this arrangement can work. My mind isn't strong enough to withstand the pain that could ensue from her distance. I know that it would consume me, he would consume me.
Usually, my kind are masters of darkness, we revel in the heavy shade that cloaks our inner demons. But I've always been at the mercy of my other half, the antithesis of control.
The king never liked that. He wanted a puppet, someone predictable and easy to mould. Gods forbid if anyone found out about his eldest son— the one he didn't have a handle on, the unstable one.
My existence would lead to his revolt.
"Your highness!"
My mouth formed a scowl as I heard one of the servants call after me. One of the trusted few that knew my true identity.
"Y-your highness—"
"What? What is it?" I exasperated while bringing my steps to a halt.
The servant, that being a boy perhaps a few winters my junior, appeared startled at my tone and bowed his head as he stammered a reply.
"T-the King requests your attendance in the dining hall, m-my Lord."
I clenched my jaw in annoyance. I had forgotten about the family's little charade.
"Right, well lead the way then."
I gestured in the direction and the boy seemed relieved that I hadn't given much of a protest.
But when he still stood there, seemingly in shock, I rolled my eyes and walked ahead, leaving him behind.
"F-forgive me, my Lord! My mind tends to wander..."
The servant boy had jogged up to briskly walk slightly ahead of me while he still murmured nonsense under his breath.
I almost rolled my eyes once more but resisted, knowing that my behaviour in this castle hadn't garnered me the best of reputations.
A few turns and minutes of walking later, the boy was opening one of the obnoxiously tall doors to the dining hall.
I heard animated chatter behind the burgundy frame but surprisingly I walked into silence. Aren't they a subtle bunch.
"His Royal highnesses, Prince Azrael—"
"Is that really necessary?" Ronan interrupted the servant with an annoyed twitch of his jaw.
I smiled to myself at his displeasure, knowing that he hated being reminded that I was indeed a Royal too. Even my name drew certain authority that his was missing. How unfortunate it was to be named Ronan.
I sank into my seat to the right of my younger brother, the farthest place from my father—that in itself displayed the hierarchy.
My long legs stretched under the table and I lazily gestured at one of the servants to fill my cup with wine.
A girl shuffled over quickly and started filling my cup with the rouge, but my brows furrowed when the conversation still hadn't resumed.
"What?" I clipped in annoyance.
My voice clearly alarmed the girl as some of the wine missed my goblet and ended up soaking my black shirt.
"I-I'm so sorry, my Lord—"
A sudden banging of the table startled her again and I looked to see that Ronan had his fist clenched like some toddler.
"What good are you if you can't pour a simple cup of wine, slave? Maybe your talents would be better served in the brothel, seeing that serving the Royal family is too difficult of a task."
The girl's eyes widened and filled with tears at his threat, her hands shaking as they clenched the material of her maid's uniform.
I swallowed in disgust when I noticed that the girl couldn't be much older than my Rose. The thought of some pretentious prick uttering those words to her made my skin crawl.
"Retire to the maid's quarters for the night. You have the rest of the evening off."
Ronan went to protest at my words but I put up a hand to silence him. I rose a brow condescendingly.
"Surely you're not that invested in the whereabouts of a simple servant girl. Pick and choose your battles Ronan, there's no need to go to war over my soiled shirt."
I smiled behind my cup as I watched the child fight against a tantrum.
The servant girl profusely uttered her thanks and took no time to rush out of the dining hall. She was no doubt more than happy to leave the toxic space.
"I hate when you do that brother," Ronan grumbled as he cut his steak with undue aggression.
My lips quirked up and I taunted him further as I took a sip of my wine.
"Do what?"
"Challenge me! You silence me and talk over me a-as if, as if I'm some kind of child—"
"You are both children."
A familiar voice boomed.
I rolled my eyes and sunk back into my chair, knowing that the fun was over.
"And to think the two of my sons are fully grown adults—daemons at that! This bickering is completely juvenile and has no place at the dining table, especially not in front of your mother."
I peered at the King from my sunken place, my eyes just barely peeking out from behind my black strands.
He and everyone at this table knew that that woman was not and would never be my mother.
"It's alright Xander, boys will be boys." She singsonged.
I watched as a slender hand came to rest on my father's shoulder, a bemused expression on her face.
She was the entire reason I was forced to be at this table.
Everything always had to be perfect in her eyes. From the way we dress, speak and appear to the public—it was maddening.
No doubt she was dressed in the most extravagant of garments for a measly family dinner.
"Well, these boys should know better."
The King sighed and took a sip of his wine before asking Ronan about his meeting with the wolves. Only one pack lived in Avernus, seeing that they were very close descendants of our own kind.
I blew a strand of hair from my face and fidgeted with my rings in boredom as they talked about this season's trading deal— something that I really couldn't give two shits about.
"I think you'll be happy to know, father, that I'll soon be courting my intended."
I rose a brow at Ronan's statement, his words interesting enough to pull me from whatever absentminded state I was in.
"Really?" father laughed in what seemed to be relief, "that's great news son. And your soul mate no less? This calls for a celebration."
"I'm so happy for you darling," The blonde witch chimed in.
Ronan smiled at them both but it appeared hesitant.
"Well, she isn't my soul mate per se...But when we first met I did feel a connection."
The King and Queen seemed reluctant now; perhaps their little call for celebration was a bit premature.
I filled my mouth with food to stop the chuckle that wanted to escape. There was nothing I loved more than watching the perfect Royal family become more akin to a nuclear bomb.
Ronan caught onto their apprehension and seemed determined to make his point.
"You even told me father that my companion doesn't have to be my destined mate. I mean, you and mother aren't even intended!"
A cough slipped me then, a substitute for the laugh that was meant to escape.
"Now you know very well that my marriage to your mother was more than just some glutinous need to claim the throne. You're still young Ronan, only 19 winters. There's no need to rush into such a serious relationship so soon. There's plenty of girls in the brothel who would—"
Ronan looked offended at the suggestion.
"But I don't want some cheap whore! I want Rose."
Rose
My fingers twitched against the stem of the goblet that I was about to bring to my lips.
"And who is this...Rose?" Father asked.
"Yes, please do tell." I chipped in; my tone was as dark and heavy as I felt at that moment. My eyes burned into his own, daring him to continue.
"She's a faerie." He offered smugly, knowing just how much weight that carried. "She danced at my birthday gala father—remember the one with pink hair? Gods, there's just something about her..."
Insects of disgust crawled up my arms as I was forced to take in his words. Forced to listen to him talk about my mate, my Rose, as if she was his. As if he could swoop in and take her from me, as if he wanted to destroy me.
My skin heated as he continued to ramble complete and utter bullshit; he was infuriatingly arrogant and completely deluded.
I felt tiny flames lick at my skin, my nerves acting as kindling for a much larger fire. He was close, I could feel it.
"I want her, father." Ronan had the audacity to chuckle. "You can't deny me of my claim."
"Enough!" I snarled. My voice sliced violently into the room, silencing the previous chatter.
They stared at me in shock, but I could also see the wariness in their expressions. I didn't blame them—I wasn't in control.
"Primrose is not yours to claim." Bael spat. "She's mine! My mate, my gift. And I swear to the Gods if you say one more word about her your head will be on the floor."
Immediately after his outburst, I felt my mind regain control of my body. My jaw twitched and I looked down to see that my hands had managed to squeeze a crack in the table. I pulled away and leaned back in my seat, vaguely aware of the scorched condition of the structure and the smell of burned wood that accompanied it.
Silence filled the room for a moment before it broke.
"When were you going to tell us that you found your intended. That's not something you should've kept from us, from me."
I clenched my jaw in annoyance. Of course the king would make it seem as if I'm the one at fault here.
But I wasn't an idiot.
Finding my mate before his pride and joy was threatening. I was the eldest son with an older daemon and a Gods given mate. My lips almost quirked up in realization.
He was afraid.
"My intended is none of your business. And besides, since when have you ever cared about anything that has to do with me." I scoffed bitterly.
The Queen's rouge-tinted lips frowned at my tone, clearly not appreciating how I addressed her husband.
"Azrael—"
"You stay out of this," I seethed at the wench. She had no place in this conversation.
"Watch it!" Ronan clipped; I laughed at his attempt to appear intimidating.
"If I were you I would keep my mouth shut for the rest of this gods-forsaken dinner before I do something I might regret—"
"Fucking hell Azrael, I didn't know she was your mate. Instead you should worry about getting a handle on that crazy fucking daemon of yours; you wouldn't want to lose control in the wrong place at the wrong time. Especially with Rose in the picture? What will happen to her when you finally snap—"
I was pushed violently to the back of my mind once more, only able to watch as Bael dragged Ronan out of his chair and lifted him in the air by his neck.
I could feel our talons elongating, pressing into his soft flesh. Black blood seeped from his neck, hot, but cooler than the burns that our hands left on his skin.
"I am very much in control." Bael whispered; a twisted smile sat on our face as the younger boy squirmed and choked from the lack of air.
Ronan's eyes flickered black as he tried to release control to his own daemon, but his other half recognized his place and wouldn't let him.
"Bael, that's enough."
We looked at father and chuffed; so now the bastard wanted to step in. It was debatable if we should listen.
"I said enough!"
With an annoyed growl we released Ronan from our hold a moment later, a loud thud sounding as he hit the floor.
"Exactly my point." The boy managed to wheeze through his coughing fits. "Fucking crazy"
Returned to my body once more, I could feel the stares of everyone in the room. Fear, shock, envy, anger, and everything in between.
Was I really that much of a monster? We're daemons for fucks sake. Perhaps they'd all forgotten that in the midst of their posh and pretentious lifestyle. We were ingrained with deep primal instincts: protect, possess, kill
Ronan had encroached on the very nature of my existence and I had reacted accordingly.
They were the crazy ones here.
I took a step back from the group and shook my head, more than ready to take my leave.
"Dinner was lovely. I apologize for being absent for the last few days. I can see now that we should definitely do this more often."