{War Knocking At Your Doorstep}
The attack did not merely come; it descended upon them with the predatory silence of a nightmare at the gray, vulnerable break of dawn.
Charles led the knights to the battlefield, a grim specter in the gathering light, but Azriel's entire world narrowed to a single imperative: keep Anastasia safe, whatever the hell the cost.
"Rose," Azriel commanded, his voice a low, steel-edged growl that demanded immediate obedience.
"Take Guinevere to safety. I will not lose my wife. Not now. Not ever."
Rose, a flicker of controlled chaos in the rising panic, rushed to Anastasia's room.
"Come with me," she ordered, grabbing Anastasia's arm with bruising urgency.
Anastasia, still half-caught in the languor of sleep, stumbled along,
Hannah clinging to her side like a shadow. "What is going on?" she asked, a thread of fear beginning to weave through her confusion.
"We're under attack," Rose replied curtly, her eyes scanning the shadows.
A shadowy assassin materialized in their path; Rose dispatched him with a ruthless sweep of her sword, the blade slicing through the quiet air with dark efficiency.
"Where are you taking us, your highness?" Hannah whimpered, pressing herself against the cold stone wall.
"To safety… It's not safe for you here." Rose's tone was final.
"Are you taking the entire class?" Anastasia asked, her mind grappling for normalcy in an unraveling world.
"No. Just you." The words were stark, isolating Anastasia completely.
"Why?"
"Guinevere, please," Rose ground out, her patience wearing thin.
"I'll explain all this later. Right now, you do exactly as you are told."
They descended into the cold, damp bowels of the castle, a place where time seemed to bleed into memory.
Before them stood an ancient door, a slab of wood that seemed more like a promise of a tomb than sanctuary.
Rose opened it, physically pushing a reluctant Hannah and Anastasia inside the cramped space.
"You're safe here," Rose stated, her eyes locking on Anastasia's.
"No one would find you here." She slammed the door shut, the heavy thud echoing their finality, then sealed it with a flick of her wrist and a whisper of dark magic from the outside.
The door melted into the stone wall. The room was a cell without a window, a pre-prepared cage with a toilet, meager food stores, and a stack of forgotten books.
The preparation spoke volumes. They had been expecting this. But the single, chilling thought that clawed at Anastasia's mind was why she was the solitary soul deemed worthy of this prison.
Back on the blood-soaked grounds, Rose found Azriel, her brother's eyes immediately seeking confirmation. "Brother, she's safe."
A dangerous light kindled in Azriel's gaze, the careful restraint he always wore falling away like a discarded cloak.
"Good. Now, no holding back."
He charged into the fray, a dark prince of the battlefield. Every movement was precise, elegant, and lethal. The air around him shimmered with barely contained power.
"Azriel, my dear friend," a voice coated in malice cut through the din. Andrew materialized from the churning shadows. "It has been a while."
"Andrew," Azriel hissed, the name a curse on his tongue.
"I see you're holding back," Andrew observed with a cruel smile. "So the rumors are true. You finally found yourself a wife."
"I don't have one. You're mistaken." Azriel's denial was sharp, but the lie was hollow.
"Don't worry," Andrew laughed, the sound promising pain.
"I know she's here. You can't hide her forever."
Azriel launched himself at Andrew, two ancient forces colliding, their battle a maelstrom of hate and dark history.
But with every strike Azriel landed, a strange, phantom ache flared in his core—Anastasia's pain, his tether.
Luke arrived, raining magical arrows to create distance.
"You're holding back, Your Majesty!"
"Guinevere is in pain," Azriel gasped, frustration and agony twisting his features. "I can't go all in with her getting hurt." Rose threw a wall of flame between Azriel and an advancing flank of soldiers.
"She has to mark you," Luke insisted, desperation coloring his voice.
"Have you lost your damn mind?" Charles yelled over the chaos. "If we expose her, they'll kill her!"
"No," Azriel snarled, his eyes dark pools of possessiveness. "I will not put her in danger. I will hold on a little longer."
Yet, despite his restraints, Azriel was a force of nature. He felled enemies in droves.
Then Andrew's voice, smug and victorious, sliced through the air:
"I know where she's hiding, Azriel... I have found her." Azriel locked eyes with Luke, who gave a single, grim nod.
In the hidden room, Anastasia crawled onto the small bed, shaking violently, pain tearing through her body.
The room shook violently, a distant voice echoing through the stone: "I know you're in here, Azriel's wife!"
Luke arrived just outside the hidden room, his magic flaring to distract the man who had found their secret.
"Surrender your wife now, Azriel, and we shall call this even!" Andrew bellowed, his voice carrying over the battlefield.
"No," Azriel responded, the single word dripping with menace.
Andrew fought with everything he had, but Azriel was a hurricane of dark power.
Then, a scream—Anastasia's scream—as she was violently yanked from the building by unseen magic. "Guinevere!" Azriel murmured, the name a prayer and a promise.
With lightning speed, he sprinted to the source, killing the man responsible with a single, precise movement.
Anastasia fell from the sky, but Azriel caught her, wrapping her in his powerful arms.
He signaled for the others to meet him behind a ruined building.
He gently placed Anastasia on the ground, leaning her against the stone wall.
They gathered around, the adrenaline a thick scent in the air.
"Is she hurt?" Charles asked, his eyes wide with concern.
"My entire body aches," Anastasia whispered, trembling.
Azriel was up pacing like a caged, mad dog, pure rage radiating from him. "I will fucking end his life."
"You can't use your full power, or she'll die," Luke repeated the grim truth.
"What?" Anastasia's eyes went wide with fear, staring at Azriel's tortured profile.
"What's the other way out?" Rose demanded, stepping forward.
"The marking," Luke said, simply.
Azriel sank down beside Anastasia, burying his face in his palms. This was the first time she had ever seen him so vulnerable, so completely shattered.
"What do I need to do?" Anastasia asked, her voice small but determined, surprising everyone.
"No, I can't let you do it," Azriel insisted, lifting his head, his eyes haunted.
"All you have to do is bite him on the neck," Luke explained calmly, ignoring Azriel.
Anastasia took a deep, steadying breath. "Alright."
"No," Azriel argued again, his gaze fierce.
"Look, I don't know what's going on, but I know you need my help, and your people need you," Anastasia said, cutting off his protestations. "I don't mind biting your neck."
Azriel exhaled a shaky breath, the sound of defeat and acceptance.
Anastasia shifted, settling herself onto Azriel's laps, placing her face directly onto his neck.
Azriel held his breath, the heat of her skin, the gentle puff of her breath against his throat, sending a jolt through his body.
Anastasia bit him, hard, across the thick cord of his neck. Azriel let out a low moan, a sound of pain and something else entirely.
"Go deeper," Azriel whispered hoarsely, his hands clenching at his sides.
Anastasia bit down with all the strength she had. "Good. Bite him until you feel that tingling sensation," Luke instructed.
She focused, drowning out everything but the taste of his skin, the beat of his heart against her lips.
His blood was warm, tasting of copper and magic, and the tingling sensation hit her like a wave. She didn't want to stop.
Azriel groaned in pleasure now, a guttural sound that shook them both.
"Luke, I have the urge to bite her. Is that normal?" he asked, fighting his own instincts, his hands gripping her hips to keep from touching her.
"Yes."
With that single word of permission, Azriel pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes dark with ancient hunger.
"I'm sorry, this might sting a bit."
He buried his teeth inside her neck.
Anastasia screamed in sharp pain, feeling something warm, liquid, and intensely powerful entering her veins, tying them together forever. She pulled Azriel's hair, needing an anchor to the world.
When he finished, he slowly, deliberately licked the wound clean. He lifted her from his lap and handed her over to Charles.
Azriel kissed her gently on the forehead, his lips lingering a moment longer than necessary.
"Wait for me. I won't take long."
Azriel left the building, walking back to the battlefield. With each step he took, his power unleashed, the flesh of his enemies melted from their bones.
It felt as though he had unlocked a dark, potent power he never knew existed within himself.
Screams filled the ground, a symphony of destruction. He was the embodiment of hellfire.
He didn't need to fight; he simply walked, and his enemies evaporated. He stopped in front of Andrew, the only one left standing.
"You dare to hurt my wife," Azriel said, his voice laced with the cold promise of vengeance.
"This will be your fate."
Andrew screamed as Azriel's power descended on him.
"Who are you working for?" Azriel demanded.
"I would rather die!" Andrew spat.
"Very well then. Say hi to Asmodeus for me in hell." Azriel raised his hand, and Andrew was ripped into the sky, torn to shreds.
The ground was a gruesome tableau of blood, the injured knights watching their king in awe and terror. Charles carried Anastasia back to
Azriel, her body now marked with faint blue lines like veins across her skin.
"Now you may use your power whichever way you like, and she won't be harmed," Luke said.
"You were brave, little dove," Azriel said softly, reaching out a hand to brush her cheek.
"But excess power still flows inside her... You have to remove it," Luke added, the pragmatism of the situation hanging heavy in the air.
"How?" Charles asked, holding Anastasia tighter.
"Intimacy."
"No way! Hell no!" Rose immediately interjected, protective fire in her eyes.
"How about a kiss?" Azriel suggested, a glimmer of dark humor touching his lips.
"That could be effective," Luke reasoned.
"Take her to my room. I'll be there shortly." Azriel took one last look at the field before heading to his tent (zain).
"Is everyone alright?" Azriel asked his trusted knight.
"Yes, Your Majesty. You go rest. I'll bring feedback to your room."
"Alright."