Azriel arrived at ahead of his family. Surveying the grounds, he began sending out his shadows, drifting in and out of his dark shadow form as he traversed Kallias' castle grounds.
The High Lords had requested the meeting to take place in the Winter Court. Winter and Dawn bookended Under the Mountain, and having used Dawn for the last meeting, it was decided that Winter would be a central enough location. As he stepped gingerly through the snow, the frost clinging to his lashes, Azriel mused that the eternal cold of the Winter Court was not his favorite climate, but he did enjoy the scenery.
Thick snow blanketed the entire landscape, blowing gently into drifts, climbing up the roots of the prominent castle, the sunlight bright and burning his eyes against the glistening white backdrop all around him. Azriel watched with an amused smile as small sleighs pulled by packs of fluffy winter-bred dogs coasted along the castlegrounds.
Kallias' castle, though not sprawling like Helion's palace, was grand in its own right. Vivian had kept it in decent condition during Amarantha's reign, and in the past two years, the High Lord had restored the grounds to their former glory. It was nestled amongst towering evergreens on the side of a sloping mountain, all but buried in the thick snow. Rinks of ice swirled from the sides of the magnificent building, carved into canals and riverways, allowing the servants and local fae a route to skate from the castle to the nearby town and roadways with ease.
The Winter Court was not like the Night Court or even the Day Court in the way that there was no capital city: much like the Spring Court, the citizens of Winter preferred to live in small towns, scattered across the rural countrysides, their trade focusing on various industries of lumber, mining, fishing, and even tourism now that Amarantha had been defeated.
Craning his neck up toward the top of the castle where he knew Kallias meeting hall to be, he observed the stained glass windows. The glasswork was second-to-none in Prythian, and Azriel allowed his eyes to travel across the icy blues and silvers sparkling along the meeting room, breaking out from the top of the castle, almost as if the space was part of the sky. Dropping his gaze down, he noticed a set of polar bears groaning nearby, pulling an enormous sleigh full of coal and lumber to the lower level of the castle, no doubt intended for heating the enormous place.
Where the Day Court sprawled, soaking up the sun while remaining close to the cool ground and rivers, the Winter court seemed to exemplify the concept that heat rises, the homes built in a style to allow the floors to stack upon one another. Similarly, Kallias' estate reached upward, towers and spires piercing the sky. The castle itself was made of an off-white stone with a blueish tint to it, lighter than a robin's egg and outlined with silver accents.
Azriel stepped across the icy terrain and toward the sweeping front steps of the castle, the spire at the top shading the sun on his face as he entered through the side passageway in his shadow form. There was only fifteen minutes before the meeting was to officially begin. His mind slipped back toward the conversation he had with Elain this morning before leaving for Winter.
He had been with her in Feyre's dressing room as Nuala was working on pinning her hair back, looping her curls into a lilac encrusted tiara from Feyre's personal connection. Her warm brown eyes were sparkling with a look of mild anxiety as she readjusted her skirts for what seemed like the hundredth time, Cerridwen leaning down at her feet to lace her feet into pink knee-high boots.
She was wearing a light pink gown, layered with lilac and lavender fabrics and accented with ribbons and embroidery in pastel buttercup yellows. Sage green vines had been embroidered alongside saturated pink and lilac florals, dancing around the skirt and up her corseted waist before trailing across thick bell sleeves, as if she had been woven and braided with real-life botanicals. Her hair was halfway pulled up, revealing her pointed ears, and Azriel had been watching in admiration as the wraiths finished their work on the end of her draping sleeves, hemming the fabric at the last minute.
"You know you don't have to do this." He noticed his voice startle her as she glanced up at Azriel through the mirror, the concern and anxiety still twisting her lovely features.
"I know." She huffed, touching her hair again in the mirror. "It's just—"
Azriel came up behind her, resting his hands on her shoulders as Nuala ducked her head in a bow and exited the room. He nodded toward Elain, searching her eyes, waiting for her to continue.
"I want to just hear their proposal." Elain's voice was quiet, somewhat unsteady. "I mean, my younger sister is a High Lady." She turned then, toward Azriel to look up at him, her innocent eyes wide and yearning. "And my elder sister is a Valkyrie... maybe I'm meant to have a title as well."
She turned back then, to the mirror as Azriel shook his head, rubbing his thumbs along the back of her neck. "High Lady... Valkyrie...it doesn't matter to me what your title is. It's never mattered. I just want you to be happy."
Elain smiled then, her doe eyes looking up at him in the mirror again, her head tilting into his hand, still warm on her head. "Thank you."
Azriel's senses flashed back to the present as he entered the main hall of Kallias' castle, taking the stairs two at a time.
Elain had decided to go forward with the meeting as a favor to Rhysand and Feyre, despite her trepidation about the situation. Clearly she felt guilty about turning down her mating bond with Lucien, no doubt trying to please Rhysand's political interests by considering this lunacy. Azriel felt deeply that Elain would be unhappy in Spring Court, but he chose not to reveal his feelings on the matter, deciding to trust her with the decision instead. She always seemed to choose what was best in the long run– even if it took some time.
Flashing back to the present, Azriel looked across the sprawling lobby of the castle.
The large staircase twisted and turned up the main spire, revealing the upper levels and living quarters, all warmed by roaring fires which were strangely glowing with blue flame instead of red. Somehow, Azriel was not surprised. He knew Kallias to have a particular distaste for the Autumn Court... perhaps the High Lord of Winter could simply not handle any red or orange flames in his presence. With the forest of Kelledurin looming behind the castle, Azriel was keen to believe that Kallias' court never ran out of wood for their fires. Probably enchanted with long lasting properties as well, he mused.
Making his way up to the glass meeting hall on the uppermost level, Azriel paused in shadow, watching servants pass by with goblets of wine and trays of warmed desserts. It seemed that Kallias was intent on making his guests comfortable today. Or maybe it was Viviane, he mused, seeing the petite female coming down the hallway toward the meeting hall. She was draped in thick blue velvet, her white hair piled on top of her head, the dress dark as night, but trimmed in white fox fur, the cuffs nearly swallowing her tiny hands. She held her shoulders back as she spoke in a low voice to a nearby servant before a crack sounded across the meeting room, her face flying up, the sound drawing Azriel's attention as well.
Looking over to the foyer in front of the glass meeting room, he realized that the first of the High Lords had just arrived.
"Viviane my dear. Lovely to see you." Thesan's voice echoed through the hallway, absorbing into the blue and white tapestries hung across the corridor, placed strategically for extra warmth.
The floors were carved in white birch, stained the lightest tone of pale wood, dark navy blue and white rugs sprawling across them, no doubt imported from the very court Azriel had just spent a month in. Bearskin rugs as well as elk heads and wolf tails were mounted along the walls, crystal chandeliers illuminating the dark hall alongside the blue flames peeking out from interspersed white marble fireplaces before ending in the receiving room outside the meeting room.
Thesan kissed Viviane on both cheeks, clasping her hands in his as she peered over his shoulder. "Just me, I'm afraid."
But before the female could reply, another crisp snap popped in the air, and Helion stumbled into view. Giving Viviane a deep bow, he swung her close to him in his typical charmer's style, taking her from Thesan immediately. He had just nestled his nose close to her ear, no doubt to whisper some depraved compliment, when another voice boomed down the hall.
"Helion! Thesan." Kallias rich bass echoed through the hallway, his tall form coming into view, adorned in glistening silver and blue fabric, his white hair slicked back as his pale blue eyes pierced the High Lord of Day. "Thank you for coming."
He nodded to the High Lord before wrapping his hand around Viviane's waist and tugging her, ever so gently, back into the safety of his arms. Helion merely smirked his reply, appraising the High Lord up and down before sauntering into the awaiting hall, Thesan following behind closely.
Kallias and Viviane made to follow the pair, but not before another snap crackled in the air, a red hot flame suddenly filling the receiving area. Azriel did not miss the subtle wrinkling of Kallias' nose before the High Lord broke into a polite smile. "Beron. And you have brought your Lady. How lovely." He smiled to the couple, gesturing for them to enter the hall.
Beron gruffly nodded toward Kallias and Viviane before marching ahead of his mate, leading them into the room.
Tarquin appeared then, clad in ornate gold and aquamarine robes, the young High Lord dressing more grand than Azriel and seen him do in the past. He smiled to himself, happy that the youngling was deciding to take his royal position on in a grander fashion. The Shadowsinger had always approved of the High Lord, since the battle of Adriata, and it was good to see him standing with confidence alongside the ancient and towering Kallias. The High Lord of Summer greeted his Winter Court neighbors before slipping into the room beyond as well.
Azriel watched closely then, his eyes trained to the welcoming area, fixated on the large crystal blue clock hanging above the doorway to the hall. The clock struck twelve o'clock, and as expected, Azriel heard another crackle, taking the opportunity to step out of shadow and into the welcoming area just as his brothers and their mates arrived.
"Rhysand!" Kallias seemed genuinely pleased to see the High Lord and Lady, nodding to both of them as Viviane came over quickly, reaching her hands toward Feyre.
"We're so happy you're here. You haven't seen our court yet!" She nearly squealed with delight, squeezing Feyre's hand, but quickly dropping them as she took in the female on Rhysand's left arm, trying and failing to make herself small and hidden.
"And this must be the lady of the hour!" Viviane's voice caught, Azriel wondered if it was with a tremor of envy, as Viviane took in Elain's stunning gown, the lilac tiara cresting her curly hair and her sweeping sleeves wound into Rhysand's elbow. "My, my. You do look the Lady of Spring..." She tutted before turning back to Feyre and giving the party a knowing wink. "This shall be an interesting meeting."
ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ
Elain thought she was going to faint.
Mercifully, her gown was neither too thick or too thin for the temperature of the firelit castle, the fabric long sleeves cozy to her skin as she followed her sisters and their mates into the meeting room. Her heart began to thud in her quivering chest as she crossed the threshold into the room, the sun beaming from the glass ceiling above, revealing a magnificent sky all above them.
Elain dropped her eyes to the ground, training them on her sister's skirts. Azriel was walking beside Elain, but they did not touch, following after Nesta and Cassian, and Feyre and Rhys. Feyre, draped in her finest Night Court ensemble was ravishing in navy blue, not dissimilar to the blue their hostess was sporting. Glittering sparkles dripped from the train of her gown, and it seemed to be lined with thick silks and velvet, no doubt more appropriate for the weather. Nesta, likewise, was wearing a similarly shaped gown in silver, the fabric moving like a koi pond as she stepped, flowing past her hips in a simple fashion, her hair pulled back as it typically was. The dress was gathered at her waist, a diamond belt slung low across her hips, sparkling with sapphires as well. It seemed like Rhysand was intent on gifting the sisters the entirety of the crown jewels before he died. Elain wondered if fatherhood had made him a tad sentimental or if he typically gifted rare gems to family members.
Cassian and Azriel were dressed for war in their usual fighting leathers, though Rhys sported his typical dark suit, his hands in his pocket, his hair polished and slicked back, parted on the side.
Elain questioned if she should feel silly in her fluffy pink dress, but upon entering the magnificent space, she quickly noticed the approving smiles of the gathered fae, the High Lords and servants alike, all warmly facing her and appraising her gown. She caught sight of Beron and what was only to be assumed to be his Lady, the Lady of Autumn, and Elain felt her cheeks warm. They had once been intended to be her extended family at one point... it was a strange thought.
The room was set up with six chairs facing six other chairs in two semi circles, shrinking against the backdrop of the towering stained glass walls. The Night Court guests were settled on the right side of the circle, Elain sitting between Rhysand and Feyre, with Azriel on Feyre's side, and Cassian and Nesta on Rhysand's other.
They faced the High Lords, Viviane and the Lady of Autumn sitting behind the six prominent chairs in the circle, holding their own quiet court over tea and tiny sandwiches as the lords began to settle in their seats. Kallias sat at the end next to Nesta, followed by Tarquin, Helion, Thesan, and Beron, with an empty seat left at the far side, right across from Azriel.
The room was large, soaring above Kallias' castle in a way that allowed the three sides of the room to be almost entirely made from various shades of blue and white stained glass, the ceiling molded with glass as well, swirling bubble designs blown throughout it in artistry beyond anything Elain had ever seen, even in Velaris or Patras.
Beyond the circle of chairs on the far wall opposite the doorway, there was an enormous bearskin rug and sweeping silk curtains framing the stained glass and a modest silver throne sitting in front of the glass wall. The curtains were held back by silver cords in a shade similar to the ties holding up an impressive amount of crystals snowflakes and stars, hanging down from the glass ceiling at odd angles. It was as if the heavens were falling above them. Closing in on her seat, Elain noticed that the chairs were a strange clear material, colorless like glass, but warm to the touch.
Servants wove in and out of the High Lords, offering wines and teas in crystal cups and glasses, the fae outfitted in robin's egg-colored velvet with minimalistic white trim on the cuffs and down the collars of the outfits. She noticed a few servants who seemed to be otherworldly fae, not unlike the tree-face faerie Feyre had described waiting on her in Tamlin's court. Their faces seemed to be hewn from the same wood that surrounded the castle, boughs of pine needles weighed down by the heavy snow beyond the open windows. Elain felt as though she was floating in the heavens, the sparkling room reminding her of the stories she had heard as a little girl, sometimes drug to various religious temples with her family and the townspeople.
This was a throne room for the gods.
They sat for a moment, the awkward group whispering amongst themselves, waiting for Kallias to begin the meeting when the welcome area outside the hall cracked, the presence of another High Lord announced with a hissing gust of melodramatic spring air.
Tamlin.
The beast strode into the room, transforming from a monstrous creature into a beautiful man. His long blonde hair was wavy, almost past his chest, and he carried himself with the regality of a prince, sauntering into the room, his stunning eyes scanning with displeasure over everyone seated.
"Well, Kallias, will you begin the meeting?" Rhysand drawled, crossing his legs in his seat, flicking his fingernail with a bored expression that Elain had come to learn was typically exaggerated. His eyes were noticeably ignoring Tamlin who had plopped himself in the last seat, his green velvet coats flinging over the sides of the chair. "Everyone has arrived..."
"Not everyone." A voice quietly spoke from the doorway, and the faeries turned in surprise to see Lucien Vanserra standing in the light of the crystal chandelier in the hall, Kallias producing another chair between Azriel and Tamlin for the new arrival with a snap of his fingers.
Elain's eyes shot to Feyre's beside her in alarm before landing back on Lucien who was now seated dangerously close to Azriel. "I thought the lady should have her mate present for the meeting." Kallias' voice boomed out across the gathered group. "Tamlin was happy to remind me of the connection when I summoned him for this gathering." He smiled pitifully at the High Lord who sneered back at him.
Elain leaned back in her seat, fighting to settle her breathing— willing herself to remain calm.
Oh gods.