SONDER : ALPHA, Leader of the Fallen

2 § 2 [ Labels ]

East of Emberley’s borders

Azrael’s frustration was a cruel burn skittering like flickering sparks from a hissing fire fighting not to go out, spitting with a final, sputtering pop.

When he finally returned to the temporary camp Luke was erecting, Azrael was pleased to see Saskia sitting alone, hugging her knees close to her chest with her chin resting atop, her red-rimmed, puffy eyes downcast. Her borrowed red irises were beginning to fade into a duller mauve, her hair no longer the bright, vibrant red of blood. His essence was leaching from her body, fading. Azrael didn’t like that.

“Rose.” She flinched. He tried again, gentler, “Saskia.”

Timidly, she turned her chin to meet his gaze, and Azrael rubbed his chest absently where his heart seemed to skip with a stutter. She was beautiful, her lashes thick and dark with wet, her eyes shining from the last of her tears. Saskia flinched again, and he realized he was scowling. He tried to soften his features.

Saskia’s voice came out demure with a lonely echo, “Yes, Azrael?”

He should say something soothing, like Luke had. He wracked his brain. Many times he had told his men to man up— that seemed to work, but woman up didn’t seem right. Calm down— but she was already calm, and that line, he recalled, had almost lost Luke a finger to his late wife. Yes, Dear, conversely, had saved him from that kitchen knife. As Azrael pondered the right response, he missed her building ire.

She leapt to her feet. “What is your problem?”

He blinked once, twice, jaw slackened. “My problem?”

“Why are you angry with me?”

“I— I’m… Not?”

Saskia marched towards him and jammed her finger into his chest to emphasize her words. “Then stop looking at me like that! I haven’t— I never asked— I didn’t want—” Her bravado faded, lip trembling.

“Never asked? For what, for my help? For me to give you my soul?! Is that it?!” His anger snapped back to life and he leaned over her as she took an unsteady step back from him. “Well, you got it! Was I supposed to let you die, because you hadn’t asked for my help?”

“Is— Is that why you’re so angry?”

Her sudden shift to a softer tone disarmed him, and he sputtered, “Yes! No! It’s not! And you’re welcome!”

Saskia was quiet a moment. “Then why?” Her gears seemed to turn, then her ire flashed anew in her eyes. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

Azrael’s brow furrowed.

She continued, turning away from him, “I can’t help what I am. I’m leaving. I never should have-”

With a growl, Azrael grasped her wrist, yanking her into him. “-Like hell you are!”

“Let go!”

“Never!”

“You’re behaving like a neanderthal— let go of me!”

“Name-calling now, are we?”

“Labelling isn’t name-calling! Now, let go!”

“No, you’re mine!”

“Excuse me?”

“See? I’m labelling!” Her jaw dropped. Azrael smirked. Az, 1, Saskia, ze~ro.

“You can’t label me yours!”

“And why the hell not?”

“Because I’m not!”

“Oh, but you are, Little Rose,” Azrael dropped his voice low; “and I keep what’s mine.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and hoisted her up and over his shoulder as she shrieked in surprise. He ignored her kicking, striding from the camp just as Luke was returning with more supplies from town.

“Luke! Help!”

Luke simply shrugged, perked a brow, and turned his back to the pair with the barest twitch at the corner of his lips as Azrael stalked off with his prize. Smart man.

He didn’t know where he was trudging with her, but he needed to move, and he couldn’t let her leave him. His head needed to clear, his heart needed to stop pounding, and his palms needed to be less clammy. He needed away from her, but he couldn’t give her the chance to walk. So she was coming with him everywhere, whether she liked it or not.

But why? Why did that bother him so much, that she wanted to leave? He paused, steps faltering, guilt nipping at his heels with each of her futile kicks. Why couldn’t he let her go? A panic rose when he couldn’t find an answer. It must be because she was svartalfr. She could help save his people. That had to be why. His need to win the war to keep them safe. That must be why he was bothered, desperate to prove to her that he could protect her, that she was better off with him.

Decided, Azrael renewed his stomping until her yells finally faded, her little body tense but limp on his shoulder. Azrael circled the town’s border, finding a little patch of brush and bushes. In the centre was a stump and it was there that he unceremoniously plopped her down, his hands immediately caging in her hips.

“You will sit, you will not move, and I will tell you why I am angry.”

Saskia glared at him defiantly, puffing out her chest. Azrael couldn’t help the wicked smirk curling his lips at the little kitten’s posturing when he had just carried her against her will and could swallow her up even now. He looked at the pout of her lips, wanting to take them. He had kissed her twice, both times to heal her. He stifled a growl as he thought of what it would be like to kiss her properly, wildly. To pin her under him. His gaze dipped. He wished his shirt wasn’t so loose on her.

“Well?” she snapped. “I’m waiting. And I’m about to walk. I didn’t sign up to be hauled like luggage.” Her angry little breaths were heaving, her eyes swirling with purplish reds and hints of her native blue.

Azrael leaned in until his breaths fanned her lips. He wanted her crazed, just as he was. “I saved you.”

“Yes, and?”

Azrael grinned when her snapping words came out just a little more breathy. “Me.”

“Mhm?” A pale, red eyebrow rose.

“I ensured no one could come after you.”

“Would you like a prize?”

“Yes.”

Saskia looked taken aback, her mouth dropping open. She snapped it shut as her cheeks flushed.

“You’re mine.”

“You’ve said that and you’re very wrong on that front!”

“But I am the one who will protect you.”

She made a mewling sound of frustration. “Some angel!”

“I’m not.”

“Of course you are, I saw-”

“-I’m not, anymore.”

Curiousity stunned her tongue into silence as her eyes widened, then her brow furrowed with another irresistible frown. “What does that mean?”

“That I was, and now I’m not.”

Saskia rolled her eyes. “How enlightening!”

“You want to know?” He drew himself up. “I’ll tell you, but first, you owe me.”

“I don’t owe you any-!”

“-Oh, yes, Little Rose, you do. I gave you my soul.” Azrael smirked with a wicked curl on his lips. Azrael, 2, Kitten, still 0.

Guilt bloomed its pink shame across her cheeks and she dropped her gaze. He almost felt ashamed at himself.

“I want—” he hesitated, then finished softly; “I want you to talk to me.”

He stood and turned from her, unable, in this moment, to meet her eyes. His admission made him feel bare, and he didn’t want to know what she thought of that.

He rushed to add, “I’m the one that saved you. I am your protector now.”

She was quiet. His heart began to pound when she said nothing. One heavy beat. Another. A third. Unable to take her silent judging, he spun back and grasped her shoulders. Her eyes peered up at his, her lips parted. Another few heartbeats.

“Say something.”

“You want me to talk to you— that’s all?”

Azrael scowled, releasing her. “You talk to him-”

“-Is that what this is?” Saskia grinned, her shoulders releasing her tension, then they shook with her giggles. “You’re jealous?”

Azrael’s cheeks flamed and his fists clenched.

“Luke should be jealous of you.”

His heart stopped. He forgot how to breathe. He waited. She smirked. He broke. “Why?” He scowled at himself. Saskia 1.

“Because.”

“Oh no, you don’t get to play coy now. Tell me why.”

She shrugged with her chin raised, a gleam in her eyes.

“It’s because you found me striking.”

“And full of yourself.”

Azrael laughed, sinking down to the dirt at her feet, leaning back on his hands. “Let’s start over, Kitten.”

But Saskia shook her head, leaning forward. “No, Azrael, I don’t think there’s any starting over.” His heart dropped ten stories into his gut. He held his breath when she shuffled off the stump and knelt between his legs to place her finger at his lips when he opened them for a retort. “Because you’re right, I took some of your soul, a tiny piece. You saved me, twice, technically. Maybe… Three times…”

Three times? What was the third time? His brow furrowed.

She spoke so softly it was almost whispered, “I do owe you. But within reason: you don’t own me.”

Azrael growled and nipped at her finger, smirking when she squeaked. “Fine, but not yet.” He grinned widely, his eyes promising her that she would eat those last words. She would beg him to make her his. Her cheeks flushed.

He moved closer, running his fingers through her hair, watching the tresses spill from his grip, shining in the evening glow. Azrael was fascinated with her, and he didn’t understand the surging feelings cresting within. He closed his fist in her hair, tugging her until her head tilted up towards him, his eyes rapt on those lips he wanted to taste— properly. Their breaths mingled.

“You can start by talking to me. Don’t— don’t hide from me.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “I’ll try not to.”

He shook his head. “You won’t ‘try not to’; you simply won’t.”

“Hiding is all I’ve done for years.”

“You don’t need to anymore, little Kitten. I’ve got you now.”

Her bottom lip trembled, her eyes shining. “Why? Why do you care so much?”

He didn’t know.

~*~*~

It was hard to think with all this touching. And Saskia needed to think.

Azrael’s hand was hot and sturdy at the small of her back as they returned to camp. Luke was arranging the supplies, filling the packs and strapping them to the horses.

Saskia asked, “Where will we go now?”

“Home,” Luke responded; “two days’ march northeast if we are heading direct-”

“-No, not direct,” Azrael huffed.

“What can ye be meaning by no?” Luke paused, standing up straight and brushing his palms on his pants, his gaze hard. He shook his head. “Oh no, we are returning home, we are not adventuring anywhere else-”

“-Luke,” Azrael sighed; “she can’t spend two days on the road sleeping on the ground.”

“I’ll be fine, Azrael.”

“No, I won’t have it. You will always have a warm bed in my care. And,” Azrael dropped his voice, stepping in front of her; “while I like my clothes on you, you need your own, Kitten.”

Saskia felt small under his towering frame. He stood close, too close, and he was doing that thing again where his eyes looked like they wanted to devour her lips. Her cheeks heated.

“Wouldn’t you like them off?” Those red eyes glinted.

“N-No, it’s fine, it’s only two days-”

“-I’d like them off. And on the floor. While you sleep in a proper bed, with m-”

“-Seeing as we’ll be adding an extra day with an unnecessary detour,” Luke cut in; “can ye be flirting on the road then?”

Saskia’s cheeks flamed hot. She pulled away from Azrael to skip behind Luke, dodging Azrael’s grabby mitts when he reached for her.

“Get back here!” Azrael roared.

“Amn’t I invisible now?” Luke sighed heavily. “Bairns, if ye’re quite done, and— I do no’ mean that as a question, I’m meaning that as a very strong suggestion, more a demand, really— shall we decide where we’re going and go?”

“Helfen,” Azrael grumbled.

Saskia stiffened. She knew that name. “No, not there. We can go straight to Azu— Wrath?”

Luke nodded in approval. “Aezareth, lass.”

“In a hurry now, are we? Eager to reach our home?” Azrael grinned when she turned to him with a perked brow. He crossed his arms. Those muscles of his— he had to be flexing on purpose.

She pulled her eyes back to his face, but the way his grin turned into a knowing smirk, she knew he knew. Infuriating man! “ ‘Our’?”

“Yes. Our home.” Those red eyes held promises.

“There’s just— no reason to go out of the way for me. I can get clothes here, from Emberley. And I don’t mind wherever we have to rest.” Something about Helfen did not sit right. Frustration bubbled: she just could not remember!

“No,” Azrael growled; “you will not be wearing anything from the dead!”

Her brow knit as she canted her head at him. “Superstitious much?”

Azrael scowled, stepping closer and looming over her again.

She should be used to his doing that by now, but she frowned when her heart continued to flutter at his nearness, her cheeks heating. She wanted to step away, to have space, but she also wanted him to come even closer and pull her tightly against him. What would it be like?

“You will not wear the clothes of the dead,” he repeated; “not in my care, Rose. I will provide for you.”

Her heart fluttered again, her stomach flipping when he fingered a tress of her hair hanging over her face. He tucked it softly, gently, behind her ear, his brow knitting. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. When his eyes found her lips again, she had to stop herself from lifting up on her toes.

Luke sighed. “Az, are ye sure it’s wise to tarry? What if word reaches about Emberley? I’d rather be behind the Aezarethi gates when it do.”

“What word will reach them, Luke?” Azrael shrugged. “I killed them all.”

“You can’t say it like that,” Saskia hissed.

“Like what?”

“Like… Like you don’t care…”

“I don’t.”

Her heart sped up in her chest as her stomach dropped. The tittering voice in her head stirred with pride, ‘We should not care. They hurt Us. They were punished. Death delivers justice.’

“You can’t not care.”

“I care that you are safe, and that home is safe. I don’t care about murderers.”

“Children aren’t-”

“-We went over this, Saskia,” Azrael snapped; “children mean loose ends. Loose ends mean someone, later, dies anyways. I.E., future murderers. Better now, and better I choose.”

“What an arrogant thing to say!”

“Don’t you choose who you kill?”

“That’s-”

“-No different, girl. Or are you going to justify your survival?”

Saskia took a step back from him, her lip trembling. She whirled on her feet, giving him her back. He would not see her affected. She hadn’t chosen who or what she was, but… I could always choose to… Cease, rather than take.

Níðhǫggr hissed at her, its fury building in her head. Soon, its rage became hers, and she leaned on it.

It felt good.

“Saskia?” Luke’s voice. She barely heard it.

‘Death delivers justice. Justice delivers life. Death will find them, Death will take their heads, the ones who stole from Us…’

Yes. Justice.

For what?

She furrowed her brow, dropping the growing rage. Fear filled her, and she started walking. She didn’t know where, she just knew she needed to walk. She needed to think. She needed…

…To remember.

‘Yes, remember, trust in Us. We remember.’

I want to remember.

‘We shall remember. Then, Death delivers justice, to Us.’

She walked into something: that something was Luke.

“Saskia, are ye alright lass?” He grasped her shoulders, searching her eyes.

She could only nod. The voice slithered inside her, crooning.

Azrael snatched her arm and pulled her from Luke. “I’m sorry Kitten, I don’t mean that— well-”

“-It’s fine,” she responded tersely.

“I just mean, our choices aren’t different.”

She shook herself, pulling her mind back to the present and out of whatever trance the voice wanted her in. It gave a disgruntled hiss. She peered up at Azrael, then couldn’t help the soft smile pulling at her lips. He was flushed, his cheeks reddened, his brow furrowed.

So, she simply shrugged, and watched with satisfaction when that flushed look of his turned to a frustrated-looking ire.

“Perhaps,” Luke started; “our wee lass should have a bite to eat, then we can discuss where we should be going.” Azrael opened his mouth. Luke glared at him. “Oh no, do no’ ye dare spout anymore of yer bollocks— the lass’ll be eating a nice bread and butter, ye ken, food. The chewing sort.”

Azrael scowled at him. “We are going to Helfen. That’s final. There’s nothing to discuss.”

“Why is your word so final?” Saskia questioned. “You really are full of yourself.”

At first she thought she’d see an offended anger on those handsome features, but a wicked glimmer lit his eyes. Did he like being challenged? His voice came out deliciously low and he grinned rakishly, “You will be full of me too, Little Rose.”

Saskia’s jaw dropped. Her cheeks flamed. She sputtered as she thought about exactly that sentence— she covered her eyes, as if that would help. It didn’t.

“Thank you, Luke, but I’m not hungry, I’d just like to go!” She took the moment to spin on her heel and stomp to the mares. “And, since there are two horses… Perhaps the neanderthal can walk to Helfen!” She would not fan herself. She would not think about his gravelly voice at her ear and what it would feel like to be under— Oh, nonsense! Get out of my head Azrael, there’s too many of us in here already!

But Níðhǫggr betrayed her. ‘Seduce Death! Seduce! Death will bring heads to Us. Heads!’

She groaned and held her ears. That didn’t help either.

“I thought we were done with the name-calling, Kitten!”

“Don’t you mean the labels?” she shot back.

“Ach,” Luke groaned; “thank the stars ye’re a commander of men, ye daft bampot! Take a hint, man, let’s go!”

~*~*~

Azrael had gotten his own horse after all, since Luke walked beside Saskia’s, holding the reins for her. As promised, the blonde had presented her with her purple gloves, the ones she had dropped carelessly when meeting Azrael for the first time.

Her heart panged as she wondered how he had even found them, or known them to be hers. She felt warm, and happy, despite the brooding storm cloud riding ahead to scout.

With her hands safely gloved, she stroked the horse’s mane, marvelling at how wonderfully sweet the creature was. The mare huffed and cantered.

“Saskia?”

She paused, looking down at Luke, who was staring straight ahead, his brow drawn in contemplation. “Yes?”

“Why were ye crying? It was no’ just Emberley, was nay?”

Saskia stilled, chewing her lip as she brushed her fingers over the dappled grey coat at the horse’s neck. She couldn’t tell him about the voice. It stirred long enough to slither into her mind, ‘Do not trust.’

But the truth, or most of it, was still best. “I think I’m overwhelmed.”

“With?”

Guilt riddled her as she glanced at Azrael’s back. The man had wanted— no, demanded— that she talk to him. But Luke was so easy to confide in… She cringed, then hedged, “I don’t really know what’s going on.”

Luke nodded sagely. “Our fearless leader do’ no’ let any of us in on his planning.”

“Why not?”

“It’s better that we do no’ ken.”

“That doesn’t make any sense at all.”

“It does, lass, when ye’ve seen what I have. When ye’ve risked what we have.”

“And what was that?”

“We gave up everything to form the Aezareth: our homes, our birthrights, our brothers. Even our children.”

Saskia stayed quiet a moment. She felt his sadness, but he looked up at the sky. She followed his gaze.

It stretched ahead of them, vast, endless. They could see the sky for miles in plains like these. To their backs was sin, but in front of them was everything, a limitless expanse.

“Did you give all that up?”

Luke smiled, shaking his golden, blonde head, “No’ my girl. I’m luckier than most.”

“What’s her name?”

Luke smiled wide now, closing his eyes as he walked the mare, as though he were seeing his baby in his mind. He breathed reverently, “Lucreytzja.” Saskia could hear the love he had for her on every caressed syllable. “She’s so beautiful, Saskia. So precious. I could never—” Luke stopped, hardness edging his voice; “I could never give her up. What the others sacrificed— it’s too great. No father should. I would die, Saskia, before I could leave my lass with them.”

“With who, Luke?”

“The Priedae.”

“Who are they?”

He resumed his march, tugging gently on the rein. “I truly hope ye never find out, lass. But, am thinking ye will.”