AZALIYAH RISE OF THE FAE

SAY MY NAME (PT.1) - VAROS OF URELLA

The Elias courtyard had gone so profoundly quiet that Azaliyah could hear the faint, metallic scrape of leather and steel shifting whenever one of the elite Urella vanguard drew a breath. No one moved. No one spoke. Every single eye in the settlement had settled heavily on the man standing just beyond the threshold of the gates, looking for all the world as if trouble had dressed itself in expensive silver filigree and walked into their valley smiling.

Elder Varos of Urella.

Only a handful of days had actually passed since she last saw his face in the high courtroom, yet staring at him now, it felt like an entirely different lifetime. He looked exactly the same as he had the afternoon he cast absolute judgment upon her. Straight-backed. Unbothered. Draped in a cold, generational authority like it belonged to him more naturally than the air in his lungs did. The same detached, calculating eyes. The same carefully arranged, unreadable face. The same mouth that had called her reckless, dishonorable, and a severe danger to the stability of their territory simply because she had chosen to help an injured outsider instead of leaving Camron to bleed out in the dirt of the border woods.

Now, that exact same mouth curved into a shape pretending to be genuine warmth. It was a flawless imitation, and it made her skin crawl.

Azaliyah’s hands ignited instantly. Jagged arcs of violet energy snapped violently across her fingertips, crackling with a high-pitched hiss before her conscious mind could even register the physical reaction.

“You’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve,” she said, her voice trembling slightly, tight with a pure, unadulterated fury that she didn't bother trying to mask. “A few days ago you threw me out of your gates like discarded trash. Now you show up in a different valley, smiling like nothing happened?”

Varos remained perfectly, maddeningly composed. He didn't flinch at the display of magic, nor did his posture break. “I disciplined you, child,” he said, his tone smooth and dripping with patronizing patience. “There is a vast difference between exile and structured correction.”

Camron let out a low, gravelly sound from deep within his massive chest beside her. “That already sounds like an extraordinary amount of total bullshit.”

Several of the nearby Elias guards looked down quickly, coughing or clearing their throats to hide their immediate, involuntary reactions to the hybrid's bluntness.

Varos’s eyes shifted sideways, landing on Camron with a thick, visible wave of aristocratic distaste. “And the feral creature speaks,” he murmured, his nose flaring slightly. “Remarkable.”

Camron smiled without a single shred of actual humor, his ears twitching forward as he slowly adjusted his calloused grip on the hilt of his iron sword. “Careful, old man. I am currently in a significantly better mood than she is. I suggest you don't ruin it.”

Misha stepped forward before either Azaliyah or Camron could make the tense situation any bloodier than it already was. The iron tip of her gnarled walking cane struck the stone foundation once, a sharp, echoing *c***k* that effortlessly commanded the attention of the entire courtyard.

“You arrived at my borders heavily armed, entirely uninvited, and flashing banners of a foreign house,” the elder said coldly, her voice cutting through the morning chill like an executioner's blade. “I suggest you choose your very next words with extreme wisdom, Varos.”

Varos inclined his head in a display of utterly false courtesy, his silver-trimmed armor catching the light. “Then I shall be entirely plain with you, Elder Misha. Circumstances within the high territories have shifted drastically.” His eyes returned to Azaliyah, locking onto her with a sudden, sharp intensity. “Urella requires its princess.”

Azaliyah let out a sharp, sudden laugh.

It wasn't a sound born of amusement. It was the raw, jagged sound someone makes when their anger finally grows teeth and decides to bite back.

Azaliyah took a slow, deliberate step forward before anyone in the guard could think to restrain her. The violet light was still snapping restlessly around her knuckles like her ancestral magic had developed its own volatile temper. “Requires?” she repeated, the word dripping with pure, unmitigated disgust.

“That’s fascinating, Varos. Because a few days ago, the council of Urella seemed pretty damn committed to the idea of not wanting me around at all.” Her violet eyes never wavered from his face. “You called me reckless for helping someone dying in your woods. You called me an absolute disgrace for having the audacity to question your wisdom in front of the high houses. Then you threw me into the rifts with whatever fractured dignity you could still pretend to own.” She tilted her head slightly to the side, a bitter, dangerous smile touching one corner of her mouth. “So please, do help me understand what changed. Did compassion suddenly become incredibly fashionable among the nobility overnight, or did something go horribly wrong back home?”

A heavy murmur moved through the gathered villagers in the courtyard before dying out just as quickly under Misha’s stern gaze.

Varos clasped his black-gloved hands behind his back, his posture remaining maddeningly, perfectly rigid. “Your temper remains just as undisciplined as your ultimate judgment, Azaliyah,” he said calmly. “You consistently mistake the cold realities of regional politics for personal malice. High decisions are often incredibly unpleasant to execute.”

Camron barked out a short laugh from behind her shoulder. “That is a remarkably fancy way to say you did some real coward s**t, old man.”

Several Elias guards coughed suspiciously into their fists a second time, their shoulders shaking slightly. Varos, however, ignored the hybrid with the practiced discipline of a politician who had spent decades pretending certain inconvenient truths simply weren't speaking out loud.

“You were removed from the territory because your ongoing presence had become fundamentally destabilizing to our borders,” the high elder continued, his voice echoing off the stone walls. “You openly defied counsel. You interfered with a lawful execution of punishment. You placed baseline sentimentality over structured order.”

Azaliyah’s jaw flexed, the bone aching under the tension. “I helped an injured person who was left to rot.”

“You aided an unknown, dangerous beast from the outer rifts.”

The lazy, mocking smile vanished from Camron’s face completely, his dark eyes darkening into something primal and lethal. Misha noticed the shift instantly, stepping into the space between them before the very next sentence could inevitably dissolve into an immediate bloodbath.

“Careful how you speak of my guests, Varos,” Misha warned, her voice dropping into a dangerous register. “You are currently standing in a village that willingly took in the two souls you carelessly discarded. One more aristocratic insult on my land, and I may very well begin charging you for the remainder of my patience.”

A few open, mocking laughs broke out among the villagers this time, completely swallowed up by the tense atmosphere but loud enough to register on the high elder's face.

Varos’s gaze flicked to Misha, his eyes turning significantly colder. “This matter does not concern the line of Elias.”

Misha tapped her cane a second time, the sound like a gavel. “You brought armed mercenaries to my front gate, threatened my peace, and stirred my people before they've even had breakfast. It concerns Elias now.”

Azaliyah looked between the two elders, then fixed her gaze right back onto Varos. “You're still dodging the actual question, Elder,” she said, her violet glow brightening significantly, the energy steadier and more concentrated than it had been during her training session. Even she seemed to notice the sudden, smooth flow of power.

Varos noticed it too, his eyes tracking the liquid lightning tracing her forearms.

“Why am I suddenly so incredibly useful to you?” she demanded.

For the very first time since his carriage door had opened, Varos did not offer an immediate, rehearsed response. It was a small, barely noticeable hesitation—a microscopic hitch in his breath—but everyone present in the courtyard felt it. It was a tangible delay from a man who seemed entirely built out of absolute certainty and political dominance. His cold eyes moved briefly across the reinforced wooden walls, the armed guards, and the hundreds of villagers gathered behind them, before finally settling back on Azaliyah with an expression darker than simple annoyance.

“Because the foundational structure of the realm is shifting,” he said at last, choosing each individual word as if it cost him an immense amount of personal pride to spend it in front of commoners. “Because ancient threats that were once contained within the deep rifts are beginning to move openly across our borders. Because old protections are actively failing us.” He paused, his gaze narrowing. “And because certain bloodlines still carry an undeniable weight in the high courts, whether you personally deserve the lineage or not.”

Azaliyah let out a short, sharp, entirely humorless laugh. “There he is. There's the man I remember.”

Camron glanced sideways at her, his broad shoulders tensed for action. “Who?”

“The real him,” she said, her eyes never breaking contact with Varos's predatory stare. “He couldn’t even go two full minutes pretending he actually cared about my safety. It's always about the throne.”

A chorus of quiet mutters of approval rippled through the Elias ranks.

Varos ignored them all, his patience clearly thinning. “This situation is vastly larger than your petty childhood feelings, Azaliyah,” he said, his voice dropping into a low command. “Urella requires political legitimacy to unite the houses. The surrounding villages require visual reassurance that the Starfall line hasn't faded. Your physical presence beside the council restores both instantly.”

“Ah,” Misha said softly, the sound edged and sharp like a dagger being tested against a thumb. “So she is not a long-lost daughter to be welcomed back with open arms. She is simply a political banner to be raised for your own comfort.”

Varos’s jaw tightened a visible fraction, his gloved hand twitching toward the pommel of his ceremonial sword.

“Call it whatever you like, old woman.”

“I usually prefer to call it using people until they bleed,” Misha replied smoothly.

Azaliyah took another slow step forward, the earth beneath her boots humming with the residual frequency of her magic. “You exiled me because I embarrassed your perfect council, Varos. Now you want to parade me around like a prize pony because you're losing control of your own people.” She shook her head slowly, a lethal glint in her eyes. “That must absolutely sting your pride.”

The vibrant violet glow around her fingers deepened into a rich, dark hue, burning brighter and steadier than it ever had before.

Varos stared at her hands, his expression hardening into a dangerous mask. “You profoundly misunderstand your own value in this equation, princess,” he said, his voice carrying a sudden, chilling weight. “This is not a request being made for your personal comfort. This is an obligation.”

Camron let out a low, mocking whistle from the side. “You hear that, everyone? He threw her out to die, came back with a squad of silver-plated idiots, insulted every single person in this yard, and now he's talking about obligations.” He looked around at the village guards with a massive grin. “Anybody else feeling deeply inspired right now?”

Actual, boisterous laughter broke out across the courtyard this time, the tension momentarily snapping under the hybrid's sheer audacity.

Varos’s face turned an ugly, dark shade of crimson, his aristocratic composure cracking down the middle. Misha’s smile, meanwhile, remained tiny, sharp, and profoundly dangerous.

Azaliyah rolled her left shoulder out, smoothly loosening the physical tension that had built up during her morning session with the staff. The broken remnants of her training weapon lay scattered in the dirt behind her, but she didn't need them.

“Let me save us all an immense amount of time, Varos,” she said, her voice dropping into a deadly, absolute calm. “I am not going anywhere with you. Not now. Not ever.”

The entire courtyard went completely still once more, the laughter dying instantly as the gravity of her refusal settled over the lines.

Varos inhaled slowly through his nose, his chest expanding beneath his silver-trimmed plate armor. He looked at her for a long, silent beat.

Then, he smiled.

“That choice, my dear child,” he said quietly, his hand finally closing firmly around the hilt of his blade, “was never actually going to be yours to make.”