Trial of the Valkyrie

I'll Be With You

Chapter Three - I'll Be With You

Song: Skinny Love - Bon Iver

"If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day."

― Emily Brontë in Wuthering Heights

A    Z    R    I    E    L

Azriel descended onto the lawn of the river house an hour later, his shadows skittering when his feet touched the grass.

He started up the small slope towards the garden and the glass paned doors that led inside. He tried not to search the patio for Elain, but his eyes did an involuntary sweep of the area anyway. The tension in his chest relaxed when he was able to conclude she was absent. Until he stepped inside the house and shut the door behind him, realizing that she was likely inside. He really did not want her to overhear this conversation he was going to have with Rhysand. Not so soon after they'd... Well, after they'd ended anything before it could begin.

He turned left, starting towards the staircase that led to the upper floor and Rhysand's office. Though he moved at a normal pace, every footstep felt too slow. Like he couldn't move fast enough. Like he was seconds away from being too late.

But when he arrived upstairs, Rhysand's office door was open and the High Lord sat behind his desk, arms folded over his chest.

Azriel stepped inside and shut the door with a quiet click.

Keep watch, he ordered his shadows.

They chittered affirmatively.

"Rhysand, I–"

The High Lord snorted loudly and sat up straight with a start.

Had he been... sleeping? Azriel hadn't even noticed his eyes had been closed.

"Shit, sorry," Rhysand slurred, rubbing his bleary eyes. He glanced down at the paperwork strewn about his desk as Azriel sat himself in the chair opposite him. "I sat down to read some reports and I guess I dozed off." He massaged the bridge of his nose. "Nyx hasn't slept well the past several nights. Or maybe weeks. I don't know anymore."

"I only need a moment of your time," Azriel said. His lips twisted with amusement. "Then I'll leave you to your rest. I mean– your work."

Rhysand chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "What do you want?"

Not so much out of defiance as out of habit, Azriel squared his shoulders. "Why did you ask Batlhazar to marry Gwyn instead of me?"

Rhysand's eyes rounded at that. The fatigue he was experiencing must have been something fierce, because it took the High Lord another few seconds to remember himself.

Azriel decided to assist. "Did you fear involving me so thoroughly in this trial because of my open distaste for Illyria?"

The High Lord blinked. "Open distaste is putting it mildly..." He gave his brother a pointed look. "That's not to say they don't deserve your scorn." Rhysand sat forward in his chair, laying his hands flat on his desk. "You did cross my mind as a match for Gwyn. She's comfortable around you. You know her well. In the end, I didn't want to put you in a position where you had no choice but to involve yourself in Illyrian politics and customs. So, yes." His violet eyes became stern. "It wasn't meant as a slight. Feyre and I just wanted to make sure you had a choice."