It took three days before Aurora was left alone in the House of Wind. Mor and Feyre both too busy to watch over her, and the other females wouldn't dare try to speak to her. It had taken her more candles, a locked door, and humming to herself before she fell asleep.
It was far too quick. The nightmare flew into her like a bolt. Males in armor, climbing over her body, touching her, hurting her, grunting. Fucking grunting. She'd scream and kick, voice tearing as she begged for help. This was the first few decades of her imprisonment, this was when it was terrifying and she had strength to try to hurt them. The darkness swallowed her whole. She had been tied, held down.
Aurora bucked, kicked, clawed. Nothing worked against them. Her nails became embedded with hair and skin, blood and dirt.
"Stop!" She screamed, writhing, kicking. There were hundreds of them; drunken, laughing soldiers above her.
Her body stilled, falling completely against the bed. Something caressed her cheek, whispered to her. Something was telling her to calm down, to wake up. Her throat raw, sweat beading on her skin, Aurora opened her eyes. Candlelight. Candlelight lit the room against the dark night, and shadows surrounded her. Her breath caught in her throat, her body lurching for the head of the bed.
"Stop," she whispered, and the tendrils fell back. Azriel somehow appeared from within them, standing at the foot of the bed.
"I'm sorry," he spoke quietly, and for a moment she didn't realize why, but then the way the shadows had frightened her filled her mind. They were his shadows, Azriel was waking her from the nightmare and trying to calm her.
"I- Thank you," she gasped out, chest still heaving from adrenaline. She hasn't had a nightmare yet, everyday had been one up until four days ago. Azriel stood, wiping his sweating palms onto his sleeping pants. It was then she realized he must had been sleeping, awoken just to help her. His chest and torso were bare, her eyes studying the swirls of tattoos that seemed to imitate the shadows. He had the body of a warrior, fit and lean. Muscles built in places she didn't even know had muscles.
"I thought I was to be alone tonight?" Aurora asked breathlessly, tugging the blanket to her neck.
"Mor asked me to sleep here, my room is above yours. She knew you'd be uncomfortable, so I was not supposed to make my presence known, but I heard you screaming, I needed to help," he responded, just as quietly.
"What does the ink on your skin mean?" Azriel glanced down, tracing a scarred finger along the top of his left pectoral before looking back at her.
"They are Illyrian warrior tattoos. When they complete training, they're inked onto their skin for luck and glory on the battlefield," he explained. Her brows twitched, eyes flickering to the wings that were tucked in tightly.
"You are Illyrian, are you not?" She asked, leaning forward. A muscle in his jaw twitched, an emotion she couldn't catch flashing in his eyes.
"I am, like Cass and Rhysand," he responded in a grim voice. Aurora lowered herself in the bed, still keeping her eyes on him. She wasn't as afraid of him, but she hated that darkness surrounded him at all times. "You should rest. Your body does not heal without sleep," he muttered, making his way to the door. Her eyes fell to his hands, the scars within them.
"Where did you get those?" She asked, and Azriel stilled. He followed her eyes to his hands, which he shoved into his pocket and left quickly, letting his shadows shut and lock the door.
Early the next morning, Aurora had bathed and dressed in Night Court attire. The pants were incredibly comfortable, though she still was getting used to the tops. In solitude, she ate a breakfast that had appeared on the table, stared out the windows, peeked into rooms. She wasn't sure what to do with herself when she was alone, not in a large space like this. Her eyes caught on a door, one that seemed to lead outside.
Aurora opened it and peered down the steps that spun around deep into the mountain. Too dark, too closed in.
"Ten thousand steps," a deep voice sounded behind her. Aurora flinched, spinning to see Azriel, now dressed in his usual black attire, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.
"What?"
"There are ten thousand steps. I don't believe you will get far without your body giving out on you. Would you like me to fly you into the city?" The last sentenced seemed to strain his voice. Aurora swallowed, glancing back down the deep stairs and slowly shutting the door.
"I didn't want to go down those steps anyway. What city is below us?" She asked, peering out the window.
"I'm not keen on telling you the name, not until my High Lord or Lady tells me I can," he responded. Her brows furrowed, looking up at him.
"Am I seen as a danger to your Court? Why have you all been so kind to me, then?" She didn't want to sound angry, but she did. Azriel cocked a brow.
"I do not see you as a threat, however, if your court wishes to capture you again, we cannot risk our information being given to them. Until I have permission, you will live here in ignorance."
Aurora didn't think of that. No, she didn't care about the name of the city, but her Court trying to capture her? Her brother trying to find her? Her throat tightened, chest wheezing.
"Do you think they will come for me? I am bastard born, I offer nothing to them. I only angered them, that is why I was hidden away. Women are not meant to wield a sword, to fight back. That's why the males find it so easy to find entertainment in our court." Azriel watched her closely, eyes narrowing on her hair.
"Do you know who sired you? Do you have importance in the Autumn Court? That could be a danger as well," he asked. Aurora shook her head.
"My mother was killed by my father's hand for her adultery. I was born four years into the war, I would think anyone of importance would have been fighting at that time," she responded. Azriel seemed to observe her, every movement she made.
"There were slow points in the war. Times where no battles were fought, but tensions were still high. The Winter Court borders the Autumn Court. Would your mother have run there for refuge?"
Frustration built within her, mind whirling.
"I did not know my mother. I do not know what connections she had, who she knew. I know nothing about her. My brother is seven years older than I, he would have known my mother far better than I. Why not go find and ask him?" Azriel's nostrils flared, that muscle twitching in his jaw.
"If I meet your brother, he will be dead. I'm only asking questions to learn more of your history, any possible threats to our court. Forgive me if I overstepped," Azriel snapped, turning and making his way out of the doorway to the stairs. Aurora watched the shadows around him twist and darken, as if they fed from his anger.
Aurora was silent as she watched him disappear down the corridor, knowing she wouldn't find him again. He only found her. Alone again, Aurora explored the House of Wind until her legs grew tired and she had decided to lay in bed. Sleep didn't come, not for the hours that she sat watching the clouds move, the people far below, the river rushing.
"Aurora!" Mor's voiced echoed through the House. Aurora climbed from the bed and met her new friend in the sitting room. She had a brush in her hand, waving it. Aurora knew what to do, enjoyed this. They had been working on her hair for days now, except for the day before. Aurora enjoyed it because it was a time where her mind could be quiet, the presence of someone behind her, and the soothing feeling of her hair becoming soft. She dreaded the day the matts were gone.
"How was your night alone?" Mor asked, working on a strand that was in the center of her head. Aurora's lip quirked.
"I was not alone. Azriel was here." Mor stilled for just a moment before continuing to brush.
"I'm sorry. I didn't like the idea of you being alone, not after what you've been through. I thought Azriel would be the best option because he knows how to stay hidden. I shouldn't have lied to you," Mor apologized, running her long nails through a particularly smooth section of hair.
"I don't mind. I have grown used to him. I wasn't aware that he was here until I had a nightmare, he woke me up," Aurora explained, eyes glinting as she noticed the out of place shadows in the corner. She knew Azriel could see her staring back at him, or his shadows, whichever were hiding in the dim corner. She could feel his presence.
"I'm glad that you've gotten comfortable around him. He is a main resident of this House. The rest of us have other places that we live regularly, but Az has always liked the House of Wind." Azriel stepped from the corner, catching Mor by surprise.
"Gossiping about me?" He asked, shooting Mor the smallest of smiles. She laughed, brushing the hair back from Aurora's face.
"Only a little."
Aurora stayed silent, watching him as he sat on the chair across from her. His wings splayed out, legs spread as he lounged. He studied her as Mor brushed her hair, his eyes following the long strands as they lifted with the brush.
"When can I begin training?" Aurora blurted out. His hazel eyes fixed on her face.
"How has your body been reacting to food?" He asked. Aurora shifted in her seat, hands folded in her lap.
"I have been able to eat one meal a day, though I do not feel as sick when I am finished," she responded. Azriel nodded, eyes flicking down to her stomach and back to her eyes.
"When you can finish two meals without feeling ill, we will start small. You do not have enough nutrients to expel energy."
She sighed, slouching into Mor. She wanted to begin training, to no longer feel weak under the eyes of males. Azriel noted her disappointment. When Mor finished brushing her hair, running some type of oil through it to make it soft, she had left. Aurora was curled on the couch, chin resting on the back of her hands as she watched the clouds again.
"We can begin your training with these," Azriel's voice made her jump. He had a stack of books in his arms, placing them on the cushion beside her. Aurora read the titles, each one being related to battle strategies and history of techniques.
"Do I read these?" Aurora asked, lifting her eyes to Az. He nodded, tapping the title on the top. Dance of Battle.
"This first, it will teach you the importance of footwork and balance. When you read them, take notes, and when you're finished, let me know. You should be ready by then."
Aurora didn't want to read the books, she wanted to learn the techniques with her body. Her sigh was noticeable, and Azriel quirked a brow.
"You can read, can't you?"
"Yes, I can read. I was only hoping to be able to do the techniques, not read about them," she huffed, placing the first book on her lap.
"Knowledge is power. Learning the history of weapons, wielding them, footwork, it's all just as important as knowing how to do them," Azriel responded, suddenly very aware of how close he was to her and stepped back. Aurora was focused on the book, flipping it open and beginning to read.