The Break of Day: Chapter 1-3
Feb. 18th, 2011 06:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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freeficfriday! Enjoy!
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Master List: The Break of Day
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
September 30th, 1978
Azriel had a stalker.
Though he supposed that was the wrong term here. Especially since it usually went with stealthy and unnoticed.
In Kieran Azura's case, Azriel noticed him everywhere. Suddenly, Azriel couldn't come to class in the morning without acquiring a human-shaped leech. One who grinned up at him with mischievous eyes in a shade Azriel could never be certain was gray or green. His peaceful lunches full of solitude had been completely stolen. Wherever he looked, there the boy was. And soon, it came to be that Azriel's only places of refuge was his own home or his uncle's office.
It didn't bother him as much as it confused him. What had he done merit this? To attract the attention of a first-year? And a noble one at that? Who, along with his bevy of friends, shouldn’t have dared think of stepping within three feet of him?
Yet, there Azura was, boldly crossing the lines of personal space as though they had never existed, and Azriel had no idea what to do about him. Worse of all, he was actually growing fond of the brat.
“Azriel!”
The voice calling his name was unusually familiar and Azriel didn't have to turn and look to identify the culprit. He knew that Azura would be waving his hand wildly, heedless of the stares. After all, he was the most ignoble noble Azriel had ever met.
Azriel didn't bother to fight it this time. Or hide and pretend he hadn't heard. Both tactics were useless, and it saved him time and energy if he conceded defeat early on. Azriel had heard of the famous Azura stubbornness that seemed engrained within their very blood, but never thought he'd have to suffer having it directed at his person.
Sure enough, when Azriel turned, Azura was there with a grin stretching from ear to ear. He was trailed by his four friends, who could rarely be found away from his side, despite being in different years.
“We're over here!”
He said it as though they weren't sitting under the same tree they claimed every single day. Resigned, Azriel tucked his books under one arm and altered his course.
“I noticed,” he commented dryly as his stalker latched onto his arm and dragged him the rest of the way. “Can't you eat lunch without me, Azura?”
The boy pouted of all things. “I said for you to call me Kieran,” he scolded, pulling Azriel along and yanking him down as he plopped to the leaf-strewn grass. “And no, we can't eat without you.”
“Might as well give in,” Miss Dryden said softly, blue eyes glimmering with amusement. “Kieran’s too much like a windstorm. You've no chance once you've been swept away.”
A sandwich was shoved under Azriel's nose. It smelled of crisp lettuce and baked chicken, and he didn’t even sigh this time as he accepted it gratefully. It was either that or end up with a nostril of mustard. Once was more than enough for that.
“You're in the rotation now,” Azura declared. “It's your turn to bring lunch on Friday.”
Azriel couldn't remember when he decided he was an official member of their group. Or perhaps the decision was never his to make. Just like so much in his life.
“What am I supposed to bring?” he asked almost tiredly.
It was too bothersome to try and fight. Azura was a force in motion, and one Azriel wasn't equipped to counter.
“Whatever you want,” the boy answered with a shrug. “If they don't like it, they'll just grab something from the mess.” He popped some kind of crunchy rice ball into his mouth. “So you're coming tonight, right?”
Azriel blinked. He couldn't remember being invited anywhere.
“For what, exactly?”
Azura grinned. “We don't know yet. Other than it won't involve studying.” He leaned in closer, as if sharing a secret. “And don't tell me you have to work.”
“I do.”
Azriel had to pay his suspiciously increasing tuition somehow. He wasn't going to lay the burden completely on his mother. This, however, was something Azura would not understand.
The other teenager frowned. He was coming dangerously close to a pout that didn't belong on a sixteen-year-old's lips.
“What do you do anyway? I didn't know students could work.”
Azriel leaned back against the tree, swallowing down his bite before answering. “I scribe for Lord Celestine in the Archives. A lot of older documents are rotting away, so my task is to copy them over before their data is lost.”
“It sounds... boring. And tedious.” Azura made a face. Only to brighten several heartbeats later, a mischievous curve to his lips. “If only some brilliant scientist could invent a way of duplicating those documents by easier means.”
Despite himself, Azriel chuckled. “If only. But that would put me out of a job that I need, so if said brilliant scientist could wait a few years, I'd be most obliged.”
“It's too late now,” Miss Dryden cut in with a sly look, nudging Azura with her shoulder. “Once you've put the idea in his head, the gears don't stop turning until it's fully realized.”
She had a point. Azura had fallen strangely silent, contemplative over his lunch as he stared off into space. Azriel thought that if he peered through his eyes, he might be able to see the plans and possibilities coming to life. In some ways, Azura was to be envied. Azriel was more suited for magical theory than scientific wonders.
“So I see,” Azriel replied, watching as Azura finally stirred and blinked slowly.
“It's plausible,” the other teen mused aloud. “Maybe. If I...”
He then proceeded to go off on a tangent of scientific mumbo jumbo that Azriel barely heard, much less processed, and couldn't begin to understand. He blinked, listened, and nodded when it seemed Azura wanted someone to agree with him. Azura's friends, Tegan especially, were chuckling. Apparently, this was a common event.
Azriel shook his head and ate whatever was shoved his direction, surprised by the quality and taste. Of course, Miss Dryden had been in charge of supplying lunch today, and she probably had a bevy of personal chefs to whip up any meal at her command.
It was a strange crew that Azura had gathered around himself. Tegan, a commoner from Moriarty, would be completely out of place if not for Azriel's addition. Then again, Isley wasn't from one of the seven noble clans either. She wasn't a commoner by any means, but she wasn't a heir to one of the seven houses like Misae and Azura. Dryden was the second born but still high in the echelon.
And here was Azriel, unrecognized child of the Celestine and social outcast, sharing lunch with them as though it were nothing out of the ordinary.
“Well, what do you think?” Azura asked then, his voice startling Azriel from his contemplations.
Hopelessly lost on whatever he’d said, Azriel settled for honesty. “If it doesn't explode, I'm sure it will work just fine.”
Azura burst into laughter. “I keep telling you that water heater failure was intentional. You aren't ever going to believe me, are you?”
“The bits of stone and glass still jammed into the hall’s ceiling speak otherwise,” Azriel retorted but a smile twitched at his lips.
The others laughed, never missing a chance to poke fun at their self-appointed leader. Azura took it all in stride, punching Tegan in the shoulder and tossing a rice ball at Dryden. In many ways, they were all still a bunch of children, Azriel decided. He couldn't remember the last time he'd acted so carefree.
“It is nice to see that the approaching first week of exams hasn't dampened anyone's spirits.”
Laughter quieted as Azriel's eyes snapped up. That was only to find that his uncle was approaching, hands clasped behind his back and a curious gleam to his brown eyes. The moment he was noticed, the reaction was instantaneous. Backs straightened, and serious looks replaced revelry, but he waved them away from suddenly rising at his presence.
“Lord Adair,” Miss Dryden greeted, tilting her head in an informal bow. “Are you visiting the Conservatory today?”
Adair simply smiled as he came to a rest behind Misae. “Only briefly. I’m actually here to deliver a message to my nephew.”
The resulting gasps made Azriel wince, but he forced himself to ignore them. Both Adair and Aidan were like that; they refused to call Azriel by anything else, no matter what their elder brother had decided. They had that luxury; Azriel himself didn't dare.
“In person, sir?” Azriel asked, trying to keep his tone normal. It was hard, however, with all the stares suddenly directed their way. His uncle was too high ranked to be wandering through the courtyard during lunch time. Of course, his presence would result in something like this.
“I felt like I needed a breath of fresh air,” Adair replied with a mysterious quirk to his lips and eyes a bit too bright.
Azriel had the sneaking suspicion his uncle was here for another reason entirely, but now was neither the time nor the place to confront the man about it. Azriel just bit his tongue and kept his comments perfectly polite, as befit his situation. They might get away with being so informal in private but not here where noble lips were just waiting for a tiny nibble to feed their gossip-hungry mouths.
He gazed at his uncle. “And what was the message, sir?”
No one else would’ve noticed Adair's subtle flinch, but Azriel had made a habit of learning to read facial expressions. Most particularly those of his relatives.
“There will be no work today,” his uncle announced then, face smoothing out. “I have plans this evening, and I wouldn't want you to be stuck in that small room while I'm out enjoying myself.” Adair's eyes purposefully roamed over the teens who were sitting with Azriel, but his expression was pleasantly neutral now.
Azriel fought the urge to gulp. This could either go very well or very poorly. He had the feeling that there would a lot of questions in his future, along with his uncle making more time for Azriel to indulge in so-called fun and other leisurely activities.
He sighed to himself and inclined his head.
“Yes, sir. Shall I report tomorrow?”
“If you must,” Adair allowed. “It’d behoove you to indulge every once in a while, nephew. Youth is so fleeting.” His voice was serious, but his twitching mouth gave him away.
Azura grinned then. “I've been telling him that for days, Lord Adair.”
Heat threatened to steal into Azriel's cheeks. “Thank you, sir,” he cut in with the hope of preventing further embarrassment. “Was there anything else?”
“No, I've said all I wanted to say.” Adair half-turned, lifting one hand to wave farewell. “Enjoy your lunches. Nice meeting you.”
A chorus of goodbyes floated out after him.
Azura, predictably, couldn’t let such a chance slip by.
“No work today, dear Azriel,” he said in a sing-song lilt. “You don't have that as an excuse now.”
“It wasn't an excuse,” Azriel protested, face again heating without his permission. And since when had Azura become so familiar with him?
“Yes, it was,” Miss Dryden managed with a chuckle. Misae and Isley echoed her sentiments.
“Face it,” Tegan added with a wise nod, his mouth full of whatever he’d just been eating. “There's no escaping Kieran once you've been chosen. Might as well give in now.”
Azura waved a hand of dismissal. Though the pleased look on his face proved he wasn't offended.
“You guys are incorrigible,” he declared and then turned pleading grey eyes toward Azriel. “Well?”
Azriel sighed and didn't hide it this time. His fingers drummed on his knee before he could stop himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. It just was out of his comfort zone. Out of his usual experiences. Still, Azura would drag him there bodily if he refused and would undoubtedly con the others into helping him. Tegan might’ve been a first-year, but he outweighed Azriel by several stone.
“I suppose,” he finally agreed.
“Great!” Azura all but cheered and promptly dug a wrapped package out of his pocket to foist off in Azriel's direction. “Cookie?”
o0o0o
Azriel expected to be bombarded by noise and energy when he arrived at the meeting spot that Kieran had chosen. What else could he expect when knowing he'd be surrounded by five younger classmates, all overjoyed by freedom and the end of a schoolday?
Instead, he found Azura standing by himself, leaning casually against the gate and leafing through one of his books. His friends were nowhere in sight, and Azriel himself was running late. Azura must have sensed him coming though because he looked up from his book as Azriel approached and grinned.
“For a minute there, I thought you were going to sneak out the back and pretend you’d forgotten.”
“I wouldn't do something like that,” Azriel retorted. And yes, he was ashamed that a part of him had considered such a tactic. “Where is everyone?”
“Oh, they're not coming,” Azura said dismissively, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “It's just you and me today.” He tilted his head. “Why? Does that bother you?”
Actually, it didn't. Which was odd because Azriel expected it would.
He shook his head. “Where are we going?”
“Wherever the wind takes us,” Azura put in with a flippant twist of his wrist. However, at Azriel's expression, he amended his words. “Or to Shian. I'm in the mood for cinnamon twists.”
Azriel sighed. He hated Shian, the market district, and shopping by proxy. But this was Azura's show, so he wouldn't argue.
“Is food all you think about?” he questioned instead.
“Not always.” Azura hooked an arm around Azriel's own and tugged him along, further proving that Azriel had little choice in the matter. “I'm also quite fond of magical theory, scientific fact, and rainstorms.”
That only made Azriel blink. Particularly the last one.
“Why?”
Azura looked at him. “Why what?”
“Why do you like thunderstorms?” the brunet clarified, subtly attempting to free his arm. As expected, it didn’t work. The other boy had a grip like a vise.
“Correction: I like rainstorms.” Azura drew them even closer together but slowed down to a better pace so that Azriel could match him in stride. “Thunder and lightning, however, can keep their distance.”
Another interesting little tidbit, Azriel decided. Was Azura afraid of thunder then? Not something that most boys would admit aloud. Especially not the noble ones. Still, it was a little... cute. Azura could blow up machinery and destroy entire rooms, but thunder was intimidating?
Azriel couldn’t contain his chuckle.
“Very well,” he allowed. “Then what is it about rainstorms that you like?”
The other teen suddenly turned around, walking backward as he peered at Azriel but still holding his arm. “Why, Azriel? Is that possible interest or even curiosity I hear in your tone?”
His satchel nearly slid from his shoulders as he moved, but he seemed oblivious to the people he almost collided with as he went to catch it. Little things like running down strangers didn’t seem to concern him at all.
“I could aim for boredom or irritation if that suited you better,” Azriel replied, his lips twitching at the crestfallen look that he received in return.
The disappointment, however, was quickly replaced by humor. Azura burst into laughter, giving him a sly look.
“You're teasing me,” he suddenly realized. “I knew you had a sense of humor buried under all that quiet.”
“Only when it suits me, I assure you.”
Azura grinned and whirled back around, walking normally. That was a good idea since they were drawing closer to Shian, where it would be crowded with people.
“I hope it suits you often then,” he commented and cast a sly look. “So answer me this: do you really hate having lunch with us?”
Azriel caught himself from drawing to a complete stop. “I...”
“I'm not blind or a complete idiot,” Azura continued conversationally, as though he hadn't just asked that. One hand lifted, finger pushing his glasses further on his nose. “They joke about me adopting strays and tell you there's no choice, but really, I’d like it a lot better if it were your choice. Do you know what I mean?”
Now was his chance, Azriel realized. He could tell Azura the truth, make his escape, and never have to worry about being dragged into one of those noisy and undignified lunches again. He wouldn't have to listen to Azura tease him or watch Tegan stare moonstruck at Miss Dryden. Or hear Isley moan about all her homework. Or ignore Misae's pouting in the background. He could have his quiet again, time to study and prepare for graduation.
He could sit alone, treated like an outcast, with the stares pinning between his shoulder blades and no convenient Azura there to deflect them without even realizing he was doing so. He could enjoy his solitude without Tegan there to laugh and generally have fun, not caring that those who considered themselves his betters were glaring daggers in his direction. He could eat in peace and not have Miss Dryden offer him food from her own home that’d been made with him in mind.
Was that what he really wanted?
Azriel chewed on the inside of his cheek, hating that a childhood tic had returned.
“I don't dislike it,” he hedged and quickly elaborated as Azura tried and failed to hide his disappointment. “I'm glad you invited me.”
Damn, he had grown fond of the brat, hadn't he?
Azura immediately brightened. Just like a flower brought into the sunlight and given plenty of water at the same time.
“Good,” he put in cheerfully. “Then you can count on joining us every day until graduation. Oh! There's Violet's shop!”
Just like that, Azura altered course, leaving Azriel little choice but to follow. But as the smell of baking bread and cinnamon floated to his nostrils, he knew exactly where Azura had taken him. The quaint shop was nestled between a dry goods store and an eatery. It looked more like a small home, and as Azura pushed through the door, a bell tinkled.
The smell of baked goods grew stronger, and Azriel felt his stomach rumble as his mouth watered. He'd never been one for sweets, but after developing a fondness for Lady Azura's cookies, his tongue had changed its mind.
Azriel glanced around, noticing that there were over a dozen tables but only half of them were occupied. There was a hum of quiet conversation in the air, and in the back, a long counter displayed delicious baked goods that made Azriel's mouth water again. He came up beside the other teen, admiring the trays of rolls, cakes, cookies, and twists. All of them were dusted with sugar or cinnamon.
A woman stepped up to help then. Her hair was twisted into a loose bun on the top of her head, powdered sugar dusting one of her cheeks.
“Hello, lad,” she greeted Azura warmly. “I wondered if you’d stop by today.”
The boy grinned, perusing the selection as though he couldn't decide what he wanted. “You know that I'd be here every day if my father would let me get away with it.” He tilted his head to the side and hummed. “I think I'll take two cinnamon twists.”
“Of course you will,” the woman said with an amused smile and then shifted her attention to Azriel. “What about you, dear?”
Azura jerked a thumb Azriel's direction before he could even formulate an answer. “He'll take a twist, too.”
“Hush, Kieran. Let the boy choose for himself,” she admonished, but there was no anger in her voice.
A smile curved Azriel's lips. “I'll have a twist,” he replied, and just when Azura grinned triumphantly, he added, “And a cinnamon roll, too. If you don't mind.”
“I don't mind at all. Just give me a moment to wrap them up.”
As she disappeared to do just that, Azura turned toward Azriel with a triumphant look on his face. As though he had just accomplished something incredible.
“I didn't know you had a sweet tooth,” he said mischievously.
Azriel shook his head. “I don't. My mother loves cinnamon rolls, however. I thought I'd bring her one.”
“Somehow, I'm not surprised.” Azura stretched then, pushing his arms above his head. “You seem like the type to have a mother complex.”
That only made Azriel lift a brow. Since really, they’d been reduced to this so quickly.
“And you don't?” he asked with a teasing tone.
Azura laughed, scratching his chin with one finger. “Guilty as charged.”
The woman returned with two bundles carefully wrapped in a brightly colored cloth. “That'll be four copper a piece,” she announced and beamed at them both.
But before Azriel could even dig out his money pouch, Azura was handing over the coin and taking both packages. His grinned widened then, if that were at all possible.
“And they're still warm, too,” Azura said, all but drooling as he pressed his nose to the blue bundle and inhaled. “Thanks, Violet.”
“My pleasure, dear.” She gave another smile. “See you on Monday.”
Azura waved his farewell, and Azriel tipped his head in a quiet bow as they made their exit, weaving through the scattered tables and their chattering occupants. No one paid the two boys any attention, and by the time they left, Azura was shoving Azriel's pastries into his hands.
“Violet’s the sister of my family's head chef,” Azura explained as they joined the flow of the crowd and headed further into Shian. “They're twins.”
Azriel's brow arched as he fished out the cinnamon twist Azura had been so eager to buy. He considered that statement carefully.
“Do you spend a lot of time with your servants?” he posed, unsure if he’d like the answer or not. Azriel liked to think that Azura was different, but nobles, especially high ones, were always the same.
Azura chuckled, wiping a dusting of cinnamon from his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Just when my father's not looking. He wouldn't approve. But Iris – she's the head chef – slips me sweets if I act cute.”
Azriel snorted. Suddenly and without his permission, he got an image of Azura sneaking into the kitchens and begging his way into a continuous supply of sweets. Azura had a knack for badgering it seemed; one inevitably gave in. Perhaps there was truth to Miss Dryden's teasing.
“She spoils you,” he commented with a shake of his head, and he didn't mean the general spoiling that all noble children were given.
It was obvious that Azura was doted on. Perhaps a fault of being an only child? Or was it an Azura trait? His family had always been a bit different than the others, less politically inclined and caring little for the matters of Grayshire in general. Most people said that if it wasn’t attached to a beaker or in the process of being dissected, the Azura just weren’t interested, and Azriel was generally inclined to agree.
“Maybe,” Azura replied mischievously, and then his eyes swung away from Azriel and lit up. “A pocket watch!”
Apparently, Azura was not only persistent and stubborn, but he also had the attention span of a gnat. Along with the ability to wade through a throng of people as smoothly as if the road was empty of travelers.
Azriel sighed, tore off a piece of his cinnamon twist, and tried to follow Azura's path. But the instant the taste hit his tongue, his eyebrows lifted. Well, Azura had been right. These were delicious – not too sweet but with a soft touch of cinnamon that floated on his tongue.
He tore off another piece and caught up to Azura standing in front of a shop with actual glass windows. Though to be fair, most of the shops on this side of Grayshire, in Shian, had glass storefronts. They were much rarer in Moriarty. Commoners tended to be more practical creatures, and glass was an expense that they didn’t care to have.
Azriel had to stifle a chuckle as he came up beside the younger teen. Azura stood there, nose all but pressed to the glass, as he stared at one of the artfully arranged displays. Azriel followed his line of sight to one of the pocket watches. It was clearly an expensive piece, something that Azriel would probably be able to afford sometime next century. But that was only pocket change for Azura.
“You like that?” he questioned softly.
Azriel shifted uncomfortably as he looked at something that cost at least as much as a month’s worth of food for his mother and him. His uncles could afford it though. They’d undoubtedly buy it if he even gave the vaguest hint that he liked it, and somehow, it’d find its way to him in a rather mysterious but predictable manner. But that was even worse than not being able to afford it in the first place.
“Of course I do,” Azura replied in a matter of fact tone. “My father designed that one. You don't have to ever wind it.”
Azriel was impressed despite himself. “How does it work?”
The other boy straightened, now thoughtful. “It blends aspects of metal-shaping with aether energy. Unfortunately, it won't be much use to someone without mana.” He sighed, a sound of longing. “I still have a lot to learn.”
“Well,” Azriel began with once last glance at the watch, “that's the point of the Conservatory, isn’t it?”
Azura shrugged and turned away from the window. “That's just for the basics. My real training begins when I apprentice to someone and pick a discipline.”
Azriel considered that for a moment. It wasn’t too unusual for continued education after the Conservatory, mostly as an apprentice under a master for several years.
“Have you decided on one?” he asked after a few heartbeats, honestly curious to what could possible interest the other boy for any real length of time.
“Not yet.” Azura tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “It's difficult to pick one. They’re all fascinating.”
Azriel smiled. “You've never wanted to do anything else?”
The first-year looked at him as though he’d grown another head and clucked like a chicken. Really, it was a ridiculous look on his still boyish face.
“Something else?”
“Perhaps the Skyla. Or the Vidya.” Azriel shrugged and wondered himself why he was asking such a ridiculous question. “Maybe even a career in the Brigade?” he added, though it was teasing more than anything else.
Azriel already knew how dismal Azura's scores in physical training were, and it was only the fourth week of classes. It wasn’t that he was incapable of doing better, perhaps even close to the top. Azura just didn’t care. Physical exertion wasn’t worth it unless dodging a blast caused by another of his devices.
Gray eyes blinked at him then. “Well, for someone who can't even brew a cup of tea, I don't think healing’s in my future. And while I like reading and on occasion, studying, the idea of being surrounded by just papers for the rest of my life sounds utterly boring.” He lifted his hands and wriggled his fingers. “There's nothing quite like being elbows deep in some invention that may or may not explode.”
How nice it must be to hold such a passion? Azriel knew that his own choices of career were more a matter of what he thought suited him best. He didn't feel a burning passion for it, however. He was good at reading and minute details and organizing. He liked history and data and facts. But as a boy, he hadn't dreamed of working in the Skyla.
Then again, as a boy, Azriel had dreamed of a lot of impossible things that he knew much better than to expect now.
“What about you?” Azura asked, picking up the pace again and following with the flow of the crowd.
Azriel focused on his cinnamon twist and avoided Azura's intent gaze. “Lord Adair has graciously offered me a position as his apprentice.”
“In the Brigade? Really?”
Azura seemed almost flabbergasted at the idea. Azriel didn’t know if he should smile sheepishly or be annoyed. Was it really that strange? He had excellent grades in his combat course! Though admittedly, his uncles had been training him since he was very small.
“He's mostly an axillary member of the Brigade now,” Azriel corrected, though it was a fact few people were aware of. “He leaves that to High Lord Celestine and Lord Aidan.”
Azura tilted his head to the side. He shoved his newly acquired sweets into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, but the action was thoughtless. Like all of his admittedly considerable intelligence was turning over a different problem.
“Why do you call him that?” he inquired suddenly
Azriel felt his heart skip a beat. Something niggled in his belly, cold and uncertain. Like Azura was getting ready to poke at a sensitive scab Azriel never planned to try healing.
“Pardon?”
It was a valid question, but Azriel was certain he couldn't put it into words that Azura wound understand. How thin the line was, how agile Azriel had to dance across it. How much he forced himself to be so formal and hated the disappointed look it always garnered from his uncles. How he'd rather force that distance than see them despised for their kindness.
“Lord Adair. He's your uncle, isn't he?”
Azura seemed genuinely curious. As if he hadn’t just brought up a topic that was so far from publically acceptable that it was locked away in a dark closet and hadn’t seen sunlight in nearly two decades. As if they weren’t in the middle of the street surrounded by people who’d love any excuse to gossip. Who were even now looking at them askance.
“It depends on who you ask,” Azriel replied with a lifted chin and pointed not looking at the crowd around them. Still, he was surprised with his own bitterness. He was usually better at hiding it, but Azura seemed to bring out the worst in him. “High Lord Celestine would argue otherwise.”
Azura folded his arms behind his head, gaze all too knowing. “Maybe. But he's not the one recognizing you. Lord Adair is. And I'll bet Lord Aidan does, too.”
That brought Azriel up short. It took him several seconds to start walking again and several more murmured apologies to the people who’d run into him in the meantime.
“I never asked them to,” he admitted a moment later, tone pitched soft and low and not just because of the people around them.
“Funny thing that.” Azura smiled, but it was a soft thing, more understanding than Azriel had given him credit. “It's freely given, so you don't need to ask. Isn't that the point?”
Azriel shifted, troubled by the direction their conversation had taken. It was easy, he supposed, for Azura to assume that things were simple. He'd been born with a platinum spoon and unconditional acceptance. He wouldn't ever know what it was like to fight and scrape and bleed for every damn rung on the ladder he moved up.
“Your uncle cares for you a lot,” he added before Azriel could formulate a comment. “I can tell these things. Who cares about that other guy? He's just an asshole, isn't he?”
Azriel nearly choked. He fought not to glance around to see who’d just overheard that. It was probably better if he didn’t know.
“You're talking about High Lord Celestine!” he muttered in a heated voice, though it wasn't from outrage as much as sheer shock. Azriel would never get away with saying something so derogatory about one of his betters.
“So?” Azura squared his jaw, stubborn and unyielding. “Just because he's the head of the Celestine doesn't mean he's any less of an asshole.” He shrugged. “Besides, it's not like I'm lying.”
Azriel was at a loss for words. Sure, he'd thought such things at many different points in his life. Okay, to be fair, nearly every day he harbored such thoughts about the man who’d fathered him. But he'd never dared voice them, never heard anyone else echo his thoughts either. It was obvious that Adair and Aidan disproved of their elder brother's decision, but no one else was on Azriel's side.
“You...”
Azriel shook his head. There weren’t words for this. For hearing someone actually agree with him. For having them say all the things that had always been on the tip of his tongue. Even his mother had never done that. Even she had always held back when talking about her onetime love and lover, a man who’d made promises he’d never intended to keep.
Azriel swallowed, but his mouth was still unexpectedly dry.
“Azura,” he decided then, “you are the oddest boy, the worst noble-born, I’ve ever met.”
Grey eyes narrowed, but more than a minor annoyance, there was hurt, too. Azriel couldn't help comparing it to the disappointment he had seen in his uncle's eyes. He could never be so freely informal with his uncle, but maybe... maybe Azriel could give it a try here.
“Kieran, I mean,” Azriel amended, and the other boy’s given name was peculiar on his tongue. “You, Kieran, are one very strange boy.”
The effect was instantaneous, and if Azriel didn't know better, he'd think that Kieran was going to embrace him here in the street. Which, of course, was what Kieran did.
It was all Azriel could do to stand there and not stiffen until Kieran decided that he was done.
“And you, Azriel, are still one very interesting man,” Kieran declared then and hooked an arm around Azriel's again. He beamed and gave a tug toward the inner warrens of Shian. “Shall we?”
For once, Azriel didn't think to protest.
****
a/n: They are way too adorable together. I can't express how much I love writing these two. *grins*
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
freeficfriday! Enjoy!Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Master List: The Break of Day
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
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The Break of Day
Part One: Chapter Three
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The Break of Day
Part One: Chapter Three
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September 30th, 1978
Azriel had a stalker.
Though he supposed that was the wrong term here. Especially since it usually went with stealthy and unnoticed.
In Kieran Azura's case, Azriel noticed him everywhere. Suddenly, Azriel couldn't come to class in the morning without acquiring a human-shaped leech. One who grinned up at him with mischievous eyes in a shade Azriel could never be certain was gray or green. His peaceful lunches full of solitude had been completely stolen. Wherever he looked, there the boy was. And soon, it came to be that Azriel's only places of refuge was his own home or his uncle's office.
It didn't bother him as much as it confused him. What had he done merit this? To attract the attention of a first-year? And a noble one at that? Who, along with his bevy of friends, shouldn’t have dared think of stepping within three feet of him?
Yet, there Azura was, boldly crossing the lines of personal space as though they had never existed, and Azriel had no idea what to do about him. Worse of all, he was actually growing fond of the brat.
“Azriel!”
The voice calling his name was unusually familiar and Azriel didn't have to turn and look to identify the culprit. He knew that Azura would be waving his hand wildly, heedless of the stares. After all, he was the most ignoble noble Azriel had ever met.
Azriel didn't bother to fight it this time. Or hide and pretend he hadn't heard. Both tactics were useless, and it saved him time and energy if he conceded defeat early on. Azriel had heard of the famous Azura stubbornness that seemed engrained within their very blood, but never thought he'd have to suffer having it directed at his person.
Sure enough, when Azriel turned, Azura was there with a grin stretching from ear to ear. He was trailed by his four friends, who could rarely be found away from his side, despite being in different years.
“We're over here!”
He said it as though they weren't sitting under the same tree they claimed every single day. Resigned, Azriel tucked his books under one arm and altered his course.
“I noticed,” he commented dryly as his stalker latched onto his arm and dragged him the rest of the way. “Can't you eat lunch without me, Azura?”
The boy pouted of all things. “I said for you to call me Kieran,” he scolded, pulling Azriel along and yanking him down as he plopped to the leaf-strewn grass. “And no, we can't eat without you.”
“Might as well give in,” Miss Dryden said softly, blue eyes glimmering with amusement. “Kieran’s too much like a windstorm. You've no chance once you've been swept away.”
A sandwich was shoved under Azriel's nose. It smelled of crisp lettuce and baked chicken, and he didn’t even sigh this time as he accepted it gratefully. It was either that or end up with a nostril of mustard. Once was more than enough for that.
“You're in the rotation now,” Azura declared. “It's your turn to bring lunch on Friday.”
Azriel couldn't remember when he decided he was an official member of their group. Or perhaps the decision was never his to make. Just like so much in his life.
“What am I supposed to bring?” he asked almost tiredly.
It was too bothersome to try and fight. Azura was a force in motion, and one Azriel wasn't equipped to counter.
“Whatever you want,” the boy answered with a shrug. “If they don't like it, they'll just grab something from the mess.” He popped some kind of crunchy rice ball into his mouth. “So you're coming tonight, right?”
Azriel blinked. He couldn't remember being invited anywhere.
“For what, exactly?”
Azura grinned. “We don't know yet. Other than it won't involve studying.” He leaned in closer, as if sharing a secret. “And don't tell me you have to work.”
“I do.”
Azriel had to pay his suspiciously increasing tuition somehow. He wasn't going to lay the burden completely on his mother. This, however, was something Azura would not understand.
The other teenager frowned. He was coming dangerously close to a pout that didn't belong on a sixteen-year-old's lips.
“What do you do anyway? I didn't know students could work.”
Azriel leaned back against the tree, swallowing down his bite before answering. “I scribe for Lord Celestine in the Archives. A lot of older documents are rotting away, so my task is to copy them over before their data is lost.”
“It sounds... boring. And tedious.” Azura made a face. Only to brighten several heartbeats later, a mischievous curve to his lips. “If only some brilliant scientist could invent a way of duplicating those documents by easier means.”
Despite himself, Azriel chuckled. “If only. But that would put me out of a job that I need, so if said brilliant scientist could wait a few years, I'd be most obliged.”
“It's too late now,” Miss Dryden cut in with a sly look, nudging Azura with her shoulder. “Once you've put the idea in his head, the gears don't stop turning until it's fully realized.”
She had a point. Azura had fallen strangely silent, contemplative over his lunch as he stared off into space. Azriel thought that if he peered through his eyes, he might be able to see the plans and possibilities coming to life. In some ways, Azura was to be envied. Azriel was more suited for magical theory than scientific wonders.
“So I see,” Azriel replied, watching as Azura finally stirred and blinked slowly.
“It's plausible,” the other teen mused aloud. “Maybe. If I...”
He then proceeded to go off on a tangent of scientific mumbo jumbo that Azriel barely heard, much less processed, and couldn't begin to understand. He blinked, listened, and nodded when it seemed Azura wanted someone to agree with him. Azura's friends, Tegan especially, were chuckling. Apparently, this was a common event.
Azriel shook his head and ate whatever was shoved his direction, surprised by the quality and taste. Of course, Miss Dryden had been in charge of supplying lunch today, and she probably had a bevy of personal chefs to whip up any meal at her command.
It was a strange crew that Azura had gathered around himself. Tegan, a commoner from Moriarty, would be completely out of place if not for Azriel's addition. Then again, Isley wasn't from one of the seven noble clans either. She wasn't a commoner by any means, but she wasn't a heir to one of the seven houses like Misae and Azura. Dryden was the second born but still high in the echelon.
And here was Azriel, unrecognized child of the Celestine and social outcast, sharing lunch with them as though it were nothing out of the ordinary.
“Well, what do you think?” Azura asked then, his voice startling Azriel from his contemplations.
Hopelessly lost on whatever he’d said, Azriel settled for honesty. “If it doesn't explode, I'm sure it will work just fine.”
Azura burst into laughter. “I keep telling you that water heater failure was intentional. You aren't ever going to believe me, are you?”
“The bits of stone and glass still jammed into the hall’s ceiling speak otherwise,” Azriel retorted but a smile twitched at his lips.
The others laughed, never missing a chance to poke fun at their self-appointed leader. Azura took it all in stride, punching Tegan in the shoulder and tossing a rice ball at Dryden. In many ways, they were all still a bunch of children, Azriel decided. He couldn't remember the last time he'd acted so carefree.
“It is nice to see that the approaching first week of exams hasn't dampened anyone's spirits.”
Laughter quieted as Azriel's eyes snapped up. That was only to find that his uncle was approaching, hands clasped behind his back and a curious gleam to his brown eyes. The moment he was noticed, the reaction was instantaneous. Backs straightened, and serious looks replaced revelry, but he waved them away from suddenly rising at his presence.
“Lord Adair,” Miss Dryden greeted, tilting her head in an informal bow. “Are you visiting the Conservatory today?”
Adair simply smiled as he came to a rest behind Misae. “Only briefly. I’m actually here to deliver a message to my nephew.”
The resulting gasps made Azriel wince, but he forced himself to ignore them. Both Adair and Aidan were like that; they refused to call Azriel by anything else, no matter what their elder brother had decided. They had that luxury; Azriel himself didn't dare.
“In person, sir?” Azriel asked, trying to keep his tone normal. It was hard, however, with all the stares suddenly directed their way. His uncle was too high ranked to be wandering through the courtyard during lunch time. Of course, his presence would result in something like this.
“I felt like I needed a breath of fresh air,” Adair replied with a mysterious quirk to his lips and eyes a bit too bright.
Azriel had the sneaking suspicion his uncle was here for another reason entirely, but now was neither the time nor the place to confront the man about it. Azriel just bit his tongue and kept his comments perfectly polite, as befit his situation. They might get away with being so informal in private but not here where noble lips were just waiting for a tiny nibble to feed their gossip-hungry mouths.
He gazed at his uncle. “And what was the message, sir?”
No one else would’ve noticed Adair's subtle flinch, but Azriel had made a habit of learning to read facial expressions. Most particularly those of his relatives.
“There will be no work today,” his uncle announced then, face smoothing out. “I have plans this evening, and I wouldn't want you to be stuck in that small room while I'm out enjoying myself.” Adair's eyes purposefully roamed over the teens who were sitting with Azriel, but his expression was pleasantly neutral now.
Azriel fought the urge to gulp. This could either go very well or very poorly. He had the feeling that there would a lot of questions in his future, along with his uncle making more time for Azriel to indulge in so-called fun and other leisurely activities.
He sighed to himself and inclined his head.
“Yes, sir. Shall I report tomorrow?”
“If you must,” Adair allowed. “It’d behoove you to indulge every once in a while, nephew. Youth is so fleeting.” His voice was serious, but his twitching mouth gave him away.
Azura grinned then. “I've been telling him that for days, Lord Adair.”
Heat threatened to steal into Azriel's cheeks. “Thank you, sir,” he cut in with the hope of preventing further embarrassment. “Was there anything else?”
“No, I've said all I wanted to say.” Adair half-turned, lifting one hand to wave farewell. “Enjoy your lunches. Nice meeting you.”
A chorus of goodbyes floated out after him.
Azura, predictably, couldn’t let such a chance slip by.
“No work today, dear Azriel,” he said in a sing-song lilt. “You don't have that as an excuse now.”
“It wasn't an excuse,” Azriel protested, face again heating without his permission. And since when had Azura become so familiar with him?
“Yes, it was,” Miss Dryden managed with a chuckle. Misae and Isley echoed her sentiments.
“Face it,” Tegan added with a wise nod, his mouth full of whatever he’d just been eating. “There's no escaping Kieran once you've been chosen. Might as well give in now.”
Azura waved a hand of dismissal. Though the pleased look on his face proved he wasn't offended.
“You guys are incorrigible,” he declared and then turned pleading grey eyes toward Azriel. “Well?”
Azriel sighed and didn't hide it this time. His fingers drummed on his knee before he could stop himself. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go. It just was out of his comfort zone. Out of his usual experiences. Still, Azura would drag him there bodily if he refused and would undoubtedly con the others into helping him. Tegan might’ve been a first-year, but he outweighed Azriel by several stone.
“I suppose,” he finally agreed.
“Great!” Azura all but cheered and promptly dug a wrapped package out of his pocket to foist off in Azriel's direction. “Cookie?”
Azriel expected to be bombarded by noise and energy when he arrived at the meeting spot that Kieran had chosen. What else could he expect when knowing he'd be surrounded by five younger classmates, all overjoyed by freedom and the end of a schoolday?
Instead, he found Azura standing by himself, leaning casually against the gate and leafing through one of his books. His friends were nowhere in sight, and Azriel himself was running late. Azura must have sensed him coming though because he looked up from his book as Azriel approached and grinned.
“For a minute there, I thought you were going to sneak out the back and pretend you’d forgotten.”
“I wouldn't do something like that,” Azriel retorted. And yes, he was ashamed that a part of him had considered such a tactic. “Where is everyone?”
“Oh, they're not coming,” Azura said dismissively, shoulders lifting in a shrug. “It's just you and me today.” He tilted his head. “Why? Does that bother you?”
Actually, it didn't. Which was odd because Azriel expected it would.
He shook his head. “Where are we going?”
“Wherever the wind takes us,” Azura put in with a flippant twist of his wrist. However, at Azriel's expression, he amended his words. “Or to Shian. I'm in the mood for cinnamon twists.”
Azriel sighed. He hated Shian, the market district, and shopping by proxy. But this was Azura's show, so he wouldn't argue.
“Is food all you think about?” he questioned instead.
“Not always.” Azura hooked an arm around Azriel's own and tugged him along, further proving that Azriel had little choice in the matter. “I'm also quite fond of magical theory, scientific fact, and rainstorms.”
That only made Azriel blink. Particularly the last one.
“Why?”
Azura looked at him. “Why what?”
“Why do you like thunderstorms?” the brunet clarified, subtly attempting to free his arm. As expected, it didn’t work. The other boy had a grip like a vise.
“Correction: I like rainstorms.” Azura drew them even closer together but slowed down to a better pace so that Azriel could match him in stride. “Thunder and lightning, however, can keep their distance.”
Another interesting little tidbit, Azriel decided. Was Azura afraid of thunder then? Not something that most boys would admit aloud. Especially not the noble ones. Still, it was a little... cute. Azura could blow up machinery and destroy entire rooms, but thunder was intimidating?
Azriel couldn’t contain his chuckle.
“Very well,” he allowed. “Then what is it about rainstorms that you like?”
The other teen suddenly turned around, walking backward as he peered at Azriel but still holding his arm. “Why, Azriel? Is that possible interest or even curiosity I hear in your tone?”
His satchel nearly slid from his shoulders as he moved, but he seemed oblivious to the people he almost collided with as he went to catch it. Little things like running down strangers didn’t seem to concern him at all.
“I could aim for boredom or irritation if that suited you better,” Azriel replied, his lips twitching at the crestfallen look that he received in return.
The disappointment, however, was quickly replaced by humor. Azura burst into laughter, giving him a sly look.
“You're teasing me,” he suddenly realized. “I knew you had a sense of humor buried under all that quiet.”
“Only when it suits me, I assure you.”
Azura grinned and whirled back around, walking normally. That was a good idea since they were drawing closer to Shian, where it would be crowded with people.
“I hope it suits you often then,” he commented and cast a sly look. “So answer me this: do you really hate having lunch with us?”
Azriel caught himself from drawing to a complete stop. “I...”
“I'm not blind or a complete idiot,” Azura continued conversationally, as though he hadn't just asked that. One hand lifted, finger pushing his glasses further on his nose. “They joke about me adopting strays and tell you there's no choice, but really, I’d like it a lot better if it were your choice. Do you know what I mean?”
Now was his chance, Azriel realized. He could tell Azura the truth, make his escape, and never have to worry about being dragged into one of those noisy and undignified lunches again. He wouldn't have to listen to Azura tease him or watch Tegan stare moonstruck at Miss Dryden. Or hear Isley moan about all her homework. Or ignore Misae's pouting in the background. He could have his quiet again, time to study and prepare for graduation.
He could sit alone, treated like an outcast, with the stares pinning between his shoulder blades and no convenient Azura there to deflect them without even realizing he was doing so. He could enjoy his solitude without Tegan there to laugh and generally have fun, not caring that those who considered themselves his betters were glaring daggers in his direction. He could eat in peace and not have Miss Dryden offer him food from her own home that’d been made with him in mind.
Was that what he really wanted?
Azriel chewed on the inside of his cheek, hating that a childhood tic had returned.
“I don't dislike it,” he hedged and quickly elaborated as Azura tried and failed to hide his disappointment. “I'm glad you invited me.”
Damn, he had grown fond of the brat, hadn't he?
Azura immediately brightened. Just like a flower brought into the sunlight and given plenty of water at the same time.
“Good,” he put in cheerfully. “Then you can count on joining us every day until graduation. Oh! There's Violet's shop!”
Just like that, Azura altered course, leaving Azriel little choice but to follow. But as the smell of baking bread and cinnamon floated to his nostrils, he knew exactly where Azura had taken him. The quaint shop was nestled between a dry goods store and an eatery. It looked more like a small home, and as Azura pushed through the door, a bell tinkled.
The smell of baked goods grew stronger, and Azriel felt his stomach rumble as his mouth watered. He'd never been one for sweets, but after developing a fondness for Lady Azura's cookies, his tongue had changed its mind.
Azriel glanced around, noticing that there were over a dozen tables but only half of them were occupied. There was a hum of quiet conversation in the air, and in the back, a long counter displayed delicious baked goods that made Azriel's mouth water again. He came up beside the other teen, admiring the trays of rolls, cakes, cookies, and twists. All of them were dusted with sugar or cinnamon.
A woman stepped up to help then. Her hair was twisted into a loose bun on the top of her head, powdered sugar dusting one of her cheeks.
“Hello, lad,” she greeted Azura warmly. “I wondered if you’d stop by today.”
The boy grinned, perusing the selection as though he couldn't decide what he wanted. “You know that I'd be here every day if my father would let me get away with it.” He tilted his head to the side and hummed. “I think I'll take two cinnamon twists.”
“Of course you will,” the woman said with an amused smile and then shifted her attention to Azriel. “What about you, dear?”
Azura jerked a thumb Azriel's direction before he could even formulate an answer. “He'll take a twist, too.”
“Hush, Kieran. Let the boy choose for himself,” she admonished, but there was no anger in her voice.
A smile curved Azriel's lips. “I'll have a twist,” he replied, and just when Azura grinned triumphantly, he added, “And a cinnamon roll, too. If you don't mind.”
“I don't mind at all. Just give me a moment to wrap them up.”
As she disappeared to do just that, Azura turned toward Azriel with a triumphant look on his face. As though he had just accomplished something incredible.
“I didn't know you had a sweet tooth,” he said mischievously.
Azriel shook his head. “I don't. My mother loves cinnamon rolls, however. I thought I'd bring her one.”
“Somehow, I'm not surprised.” Azura stretched then, pushing his arms above his head. “You seem like the type to have a mother complex.”
That only made Azriel lift a brow. Since really, they’d been reduced to this so quickly.
“And you don't?” he asked with a teasing tone.
Azura laughed, scratching his chin with one finger. “Guilty as charged.”
The woman returned with two bundles carefully wrapped in a brightly colored cloth. “That'll be four copper a piece,” she announced and beamed at them both.
But before Azriel could even dig out his money pouch, Azura was handing over the coin and taking both packages. His grinned widened then, if that were at all possible.
“And they're still warm, too,” Azura said, all but drooling as he pressed his nose to the blue bundle and inhaled. “Thanks, Violet.”
“My pleasure, dear.” She gave another smile. “See you on Monday.”
Azura waved his farewell, and Azriel tipped his head in a quiet bow as they made their exit, weaving through the scattered tables and their chattering occupants. No one paid the two boys any attention, and by the time they left, Azura was shoving Azriel's pastries into his hands.
“Violet’s the sister of my family's head chef,” Azura explained as they joined the flow of the crowd and headed further into Shian. “They're twins.”
Azriel's brow arched as he fished out the cinnamon twist Azura had been so eager to buy. He considered that statement carefully.
“Do you spend a lot of time with your servants?” he posed, unsure if he’d like the answer or not. Azriel liked to think that Azura was different, but nobles, especially high ones, were always the same.
Azura chuckled, wiping a dusting of cinnamon from his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Just when my father's not looking. He wouldn't approve. But Iris – she's the head chef – slips me sweets if I act cute.”
Azriel snorted. Suddenly and without his permission, he got an image of Azura sneaking into the kitchens and begging his way into a continuous supply of sweets. Azura had a knack for badgering it seemed; one inevitably gave in. Perhaps there was truth to Miss Dryden's teasing.
“She spoils you,” he commented with a shake of his head, and he didn't mean the general spoiling that all noble children were given.
It was obvious that Azura was doted on. Perhaps a fault of being an only child? Or was it an Azura trait? His family had always been a bit different than the others, less politically inclined and caring little for the matters of Grayshire in general. Most people said that if it wasn’t attached to a beaker or in the process of being dissected, the Azura just weren’t interested, and Azriel was generally inclined to agree.
“Maybe,” Azura replied mischievously, and then his eyes swung away from Azriel and lit up. “A pocket watch!”
Apparently, Azura was not only persistent and stubborn, but he also had the attention span of a gnat. Along with the ability to wade through a throng of people as smoothly as if the road was empty of travelers.
Azriel sighed, tore off a piece of his cinnamon twist, and tried to follow Azura's path. But the instant the taste hit his tongue, his eyebrows lifted. Well, Azura had been right. These were delicious – not too sweet but with a soft touch of cinnamon that floated on his tongue.
He tore off another piece and caught up to Azura standing in front of a shop with actual glass windows. Though to be fair, most of the shops on this side of Grayshire, in Shian, had glass storefronts. They were much rarer in Moriarty. Commoners tended to be more practical creatures, and glass was an expense that they didn’t care to have.
Azriel had to stifle a chuckle as he came up beside the younger teen. Azura stood there, nose all but pressed to the glass, as he stared at one of the artfully arranged displays. Azriel followed his line of sight to one of the pocket watches. It was clearly an expensive piece, something that Azriel would probably be able to afford sometime next century. But that was only pocket change for Azura.
“You like that?” he questioned softly.
Azriel shifted uncomfortably as he looked at something that cost at least as much as a month’s worth of food for his mother and him. His uncles could afford it though. They’d undoubtedly buy it if he even gave the vaguest hint that he liked it, and somehow, it’d find its way to him in a rather mysterious but predictable manner. But that was even worse than not being able to afford it in the first place.
“Of course I do,” Azura replied in a matter of fact tone. “My father designed that one. You don't have to ever wind it.”
Azriel was impressed despite himself. “How does it work?”
The other boy straightened, now thoughtful. “It blends aspects of metal-shaping with aether energy. Unfortunately, it won't be much use to someone without mana.” He sighed, a sound of longing. “I still have a lot to learn.”
“Well,” Azriel began with once last glance at the watch, “that's the point of the Conservatory, isn’t it?”
Azura shrugged and turned away from the window. “That's just for the basics. My real training begins when I apprentice to someone and pick a discipline.”
Azriel considered that for a moment. It wasn’t too unusual for continued education after the Conservatory, mostly as an apprentice under a master for several years.
“Have you decided on one?” he asked after a few heartbeats, honestly curious to what could possible interest the other boy for any real length of time.
“Not yet.” Azura tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear. “It's difficult to pick one. They’re all fascinating.”
Azriel smiled. “You've never wanted to do anything else?”
The first-year looked at him as though he’d grown another head and clucked like a chicken. Really, it was a ridiculous look on his still boyish face.
“Something else?”
“Perhaps the Skyla. Or the Vidya.” Azriel shrugged and wondered himself why he was asking such a ridiculous question. “Maybe even a career in the Brigade?” he added, though it was teasing more than anything else.
Azriel already knew how dismal Azura's scores in physical training were, and it was only the fourth week of classes. It wasn’t that he was incapable of doing better, perhaps even close to the top. Azura just didn’t care. Physical exertion wasn’t worth it unless dodging a blast caused by another of his devices.
Gray eyes blinked at him then. “Well, for someone who can't even brew a cup of tea, I don't think healing’s in my future. And while I like reading and on occasion, studying, the idea of being surrounded by just papers for the rest of my life sounds utterly boring.” He lifted his hands and wriggled his fingers. “There's nothing quite like being elbows deep in some invention that may or may not explode.”
How nice it must be to hold such a passion? Azriel knew that his own choices of career were more a matter of what he thought suited him best. He didn't feel a burning passion for it, however. He was good at reading and minute details and organizing. He liked history and data and facts. But as a boy, he hadn't dreamed of working in the Skyla.
Then again, as a boy, Azriel had dreamed of a lot of impossible things that he knew much better than to expect now.
“What about you?” Azura asked, picking up the pace again and following with the flow of the crowd.
Azriel focused on his cinnamon twist and avoided Azura's intent gaze. “Lord Adair has graciously offered me a position as his apprentice.”
“In the Brigade? Really?”
Azura seemed almost flabbergasted at the idea. Azriel didn’t know if he should smile sheepishly or be annoyed. Was it really that strange? He had excellent grades in his combat course! Though admittedly, his uncles had been training him since he was very small.
“He's mostly an axillary member of the Brigade now,” Azriel corrected, though it was a fact few people were aware of. “He leaves that to High Lord Celestine and Lord Aidan.”
Azura tilted his head to the side. He shoved his newly acquired sweets into his bag and slung it over his shoulder, but the action was thoughtless. Like all of his admittedly considerable intelligence was turning over a different problem.
“Why do you call him that?” he inquired suddenly
Azriel felt his heart skip a beat. Something niggled in his belly, cold and uncertain. Like Azura was getting ready to poke at a sensitive scab Azriel never planned to try healing.
“Pardon?”
It was a valid question, but Azriel was certain he couldn't put it into words that Azura wound understand. How thin the line was, how agile Azriel had to dance across it. How much he forced himself to be so formal and hated the disappointed look it always garnered from his uncles. How he'd rather force that distance than see them despised for their kindness.
“Lord Adair. He's your uncle, isn't he?”
Azura seemed genuinely curious. As if he hadn’t just brought up a topic that was so far from publically acceptable that it was locked away in a dark closet and hadn’t seen sunlight in nearly two decades. As if they weren’t in the middle of the street surrounded by people who’d love any excuse to gossip. Who were even now looking at them askance.
“It depends on who you ask,” Azriel replied with a lifted chin and pointed not looking at the crowd around them. Still, he was surprised with his own bitterness. He was usually better at hiding it, but Azura seemed to bring out the worst in him. “High Lord Celestine would argue otherwise.”
Azura folded his arms behind his head, gaze all too knowing. “Maybe. But he's not the one recognizing you. Lord Adair is. And I'll bet Lord Aidan does, too.”
That brought Azriel up short. It took him several seconds to start walking again and several more murmured apologies to the people who’d run into him in the meantime.
“I never asked them to,” he admitted a moment later, tone pitched soft and low and not just because of the people around them.
“Funny thing that.” Azura smiled, but it was a soft thing, more understanding than Azriel had given him credit. “It's freely given, so you don't need to ask. Isn't that the point?”
Azriel shifted, troubled by the direction their conversation had taken. It was easy, he supposed, for Azura to assume that things were simple. He'd been born with a platinum spoon and unconditional acceptance. He wouldn't ever know what it was like to fight and scrape and bleed for every damn rung on the ladder he moved up.
“Your uncle cares for you a lot,” he added before Azriel could formulate a comment. “I can tell these things. Who cares about that other guy? He's just an asshole, isn't he?”
Azriel nearly choked. He fought not to glance around to see who’d just overheard that. It was probably better if he didn’t know.
“You're talking about High Lord Celestine!” he muttered in a heated voice, though it wasn't from outrage as much as sheer shock. Azriel would never get away with saying something so derogatory about one of his betters.
“So?” Azura squared his jaw, stubborn and unyielding. “Just because he's the head of the Celestine doesn't mean he's any less of an asshole.” He shrugged. “Besides, it's not like I'm lying.”
Azriel was at a loss for words. Sure, he'd thought such things at many different points in his life. Okay, to be fair, nearly every day he harbored such thoughts about the man who’d fathered him. But he'd never dared voice them, never heard anyone else echo his thoughts either. It was obvious that Adair and Aidan disproved of their elder brother's decision, but no one else was on Azriel's side.
“You...”
Azriel shook his head. There weren’t words for this. For hearing someone actually agree with him. For having them say all the things that had always been on the tip of his tongue. Even his mother had never done that. Even she had always held back when talking about her onetime love and lover, a man who’d made promises he’d never intended to keep.
Azriel swallowed, but his mouth was still unexpectedly dry.
“Azura,” he decided then, “you are the oddest boy, the worst noble-born, I’ve ever met.”
Grey eyes narrowed, but more than a minor annoyance, there was hurt, too. Azriel couldn't help comparing it to the disappointment he had seen in his uncle's eyes. He could never be so freely informal with his uncle, but maybe... maybe Azriel could give it a try here.
“Kieran, I mean,” Azriel amended, and the other boy’s given name was peculiar on his tongue. “You, Kieran, are one very strange boy.”
The effect was instantaneous, and if Azriel didn't know better, he'd think that Kieran was going to embrace him here in the street. Which, of course, was what Kieran did.
It was all Azriel could do to stand there and not stiffen until Kieran decided that he was done.
“And you, Azriel, are still one very interesting man,” Kieran declared then and hooked an arm around Azriel's again. He beamed and gave a tug toward the inner warrens of Shian. “Shall we?”
For once, Azriel didn't think to protest.
a/n: They are way too adorable together. I can't express how much I love writing these two. *grins*
As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated.
