A/N:
Thanks for 100k guys!
I'm not the happiest with this chapter but I wanted to get something out for you guys. Updates are gonna be a bit slow for the next few weeks, exams are killing mee ;(
~
My feet echoed throughout empty halls, my heavy boots meeting ceramic.
Rose's words played throughout my mind on repeat, buffering and starting over like a broken record.
I didn't want to startle her further with my anger. My skin crawled at even the thought of scaring her.
I thanked the gods she couldn't see through me. She would be met with spindled webs of misery, patterned haphazardly and strewn in darkened corners of my even darker mind.
As I felt my bones vibrate in fury and searing heat rush to the surface of my skin, I was even more grateful that she couldn't feel it.
I rounded the corner to the King's study, knowing that he was always there, hiding his head in paperwork and books regardless of the hour.
The door was closed and I took immense pleasure in swinging it open with excessive force, enjoying the disruptive bang and squeak of the wood from my handling.
"Just...stop right there. Let me tell you how this is going to go."
I faltered in the doorway, not expecting father to be sitting in his cushioned leather chair, leg crossed and hands steepled as if he had been waiting for me.
My brows furrowed once I registered his words, and I held back a scoff at them. Was he really trying to make demands of me right now?
"You're going to sit right there," my eyes followed his hand as he gestured to the seat across from his desk, "and we are going to have a conversation. There will be no yelling, no fighting or anything else that doesn't reflect the epitome of civil. You are a man now Azrael, not a child. You should be able to communicate with words rather than resort to the use of your fists."
I still stood in the doorway, my jaw twitching at his little speech. The stubborn and spiteful part of me wanted to disregard everything he just said and tear his study apart; I wanted to shred every paper and burn every book, setting the entire room aflame by my presence alone.
I didn't want to listen to him, regardless if there was any truth to his words.
But still, I found myself slowly approaching the empty seat, and I slumped against the cool leather, huffing a small breath as my hair fell into my eyes.
"Good."
I rolled my eyes at his approval.
"Now, I know that you're upset. You have made that abundantly clear. And from your perspective, I can see how this situation may seem...unfavourable."
I did scoff then, crossing my arms at his choice of words. But he raised a hand to stop me from interrupting.
"We both know that Ronan will precede me as King. And with that title comes a very important condition: he must have a mate. Fated or not fated, that detail is minute when looking at the bigger picture. Ronan chose Primrose, and while he told you he would leave her be I insisted that he have her."
I gripped the armrests of the chair, a low growl ripping through my chest.
But father only leaned forward, rested his elbows on the desk in front of him and mouthed his words slowly.
"To put it very simply, incase you still don't understand. Kings always get what they want."
I flared my nostrils and leaned in closer, wanting him to see just how close I was to losing it—show him just how crazy I really am.
"I should rip out your throat for this fucked ploy of yours." I spat. "Do you think I'm a fool? Do you really think I wouldn't take down this entire kingdom—your empire—before I let you take my mate and pass her off to another?!"
Father chuckled but I could see him grind his teeth in irritation as he wiped my spit from his face.
"Please Azrael. I won't pretend you aren't...gifted." The word rolled reluctantly from his tongue, the syllable ending abruptly as if it left a sharp taste in his mouth. "But you should know better than to threaten me."
We stared at each other for a moment before the old man tilted his head, his voice lowering an octave.
"Of course I wouldn't expect you to be the bigger person and stand to the side as your brother finds his happiness. You want to know your true fate son? You were to be chained and caged in the cellars, 10 feet deep in the ground with misery the only thing to keep you company."
Heavy breathing.
Violent glares.
Silence.
I swallowed tensely, turning my head to the side as I leaned back in the chair. My fingers dug into the leather of the armrest as Bael pushed at my mind, growling and snarling at the disrespect.
But as much as I wanted to give in to the rage, I wanted to prove my control more.
It was hard.
We felt threatened, offended, hurt.
The old man was a bastard but he was also my father. And despite the many unpleasant feelings I hold towards him, my heart still ached at his admission. He might as well have clawed a hole straight through my chest and ripped it out himself.
"I know what you're doing." My voice was low but shaky; I couldn't find it in myself to care.
"Ronan could have any girl he wants, he is free to take his pick. But you encouraged him to take mine."
I turned to face him now, anger melting to mix with pain. I found it funny how the two blended together so well, but perhaps that was also why they managed to cripple me so easily.
"You're scared. You're scared that your 'people' will pick me over him," I pointed my finger in his face as I pressed my other palm against the wood of the desk; at my growing heat, the structure crackled like kindling being kissed by a flame, "You're scared that they'll find out that I'm not so illegitimate. Azrael Zachario, a bastard only because the King killed his own mate."
Father's eyes widened then darkened, his body beginning to tremble. He jaw was taunt, as he looked at me, seeming unsure of what to say.
That wasn't an issue, I would gladly speak for him.
"When you spend as much time as I do in the castle, you start to notice how thin the walls are. It's amazing what people admit to when they're behind closed doors."
The old man shook his head, his face mirroring disbelief.
"How long have you known?" His question escaped in an unstable breath.
My jaw twitched, and I leaned back in the chair, not particularly wanting to satisfy his curiosity.
"Long enough to know that you've been feeding that little brat bullshit since he could talk."
"Then why didn't you—"
"Why didn't I say anything? Because I don't want the fucking crown."
My eyes scanned the King's satisfied expression in disgust.
"Don't look so relieved, you should be worried."
I stood up, feeling the sharp edges of my rings pierce my palm as I squeezed my hand in a fist.
"Rose is mated to me and only me. And if you ever think of doing something to fuck with her, with me again, I will walk out those doors and tell ever single fucking soul that my mother was your fated, and yet you killed her."
The King released his own growl but he let me be, knowing that my threat was very real and the consequences would be very, very bad—at least for him.
I would never forget the night of my 18th birthday.
The snow that blanketed the courtyard and the icicles that draped from the windowsills, their white and pure forms. I remember passing by the ethereal display and feeling my usual bout of anger.
Ronan had pulled some fucked prank, making me think that they had prepared a birthday party; he even lured me to the banquet hall but then laughed in my face when he revealed that no one was there.
The snow and the ice, it just reminded me that I didn't belong. I was a black stain on the pile on white that was the castle.
I remember feeling that way and thinking those things before hearing the murmurs on the other side of the walls.
But then the murmurs turned to identifiable voices, and those voices spoke words, and those words...
Funny enough all I could feel was ice.
I always thought that my strength came from my age—I was the eldest so I never questioned it further. But after discovering father's dirty little secret, everything else started to click.
Father knows that offspring of mated pairs are superior—some said the gods made it that way to discourage people from bedding anyone that wasn't their mate.
If our people found out about me, they would kill him and call on me to be the next ruler. It's why father tried to get rid of me in the first place despite what he liked to tell himself so that he could sleep at night.
"And incase you think little of my threat and proceed to disobey me, just know that the second that crown touches a single hair on Ronan's head, I will be right there, ready to slide my talons along the skin of his neck. And I will grin and laugh as the little shit chokes on his own blood."
Father looked infuriated: his vein was throbbing against his forehead, and he looked just about ready to lunge and strangle me.
I couldn't help but smile.
"Rose will be staying in castle with me until I can think of somewhere that's far, far away from you and this fucked up palace."
"Azrael, you do not have the authority!—"
I interrupted him with a slam of my fist on the table.
"Remember what I said." I snarled
He flared his nostrils but remained silent; satisfied, I turned around to leave, but I could feel the heat of his stare on my back as I walked off.
"You have no idea what you're doing boy." Father growled lowly.
I only chuckled, not even bothering to spare him another glance.