Azriel entered his room, the air shifting with a quiet power that bowed only to him.
His gaze landed on the bed, where Anastasia lay, her form almost swallowed by the silk covers.
"We will give you space," Rose murmured, her voice a promise of complicity, before she retreated, leaving the Emperor and the woman who now bore his mark entirely alone.
The room was vast, dominated by shadow and moonlight, and now, by the inescapable presence of the demon Emperor.
Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. He reached out, his finger tracing the intricate, glowing lines that had consumed her skin.
The Mark—his Mark—now covered her entire being, a map of ownership etched in celestial fire.
"You look beautiful," Azriel whispered, the words rough velvet, thick with a possessiveness he rarely allowed himself to show.
Anastasia made a soft groan, shifting slightly, her eyes fluttering open. "I waited for you," she whispered, her voice fragile, barely a breath.
"You did," he acknowledged, his focus narrowing solely on her strength.
"You were brave." A weak, ethereal smile touched her lips, luminous in the dim light.
He leaned closer, the proximity a silent torment. The energy between them sparked, pulling at the very edges of their control.
"May I... kiss you?" he demanded softly, the question an act of defiance against his own nature, a dark invitation for her to resist the inevitable.
She didn't reply, her eyes simply widening as he slowly closed the gap between their bodies.
He moved with agonizing slowness, giving her time to pull away, an opportunity for escape she did not take.
The moment his lips claimed hers, Azriel's mind exploded in a blaze of consuming fire. Her lips were soft, warm, and devastatingly sweet—everything his cold, ancient heart had ever dared to hope for.
Anastasia kissed back, a response that tore a raw, guttural curse from his throat as they inevitably broke apart, gasping.
He fought for control, a brutal internal war that raged beneath his serene exterior, but something kept pulling him in for another taste.
Anastasia ended his hesitation, pulling him by the collar with a strength born of desperation, kissing him hard.
This kiss was different: slower, deeper, agonizingly intimate.
Azriel's hands slid down to her waist, possessive and firm, his thumbs stroking the new markings just above her hip, but he stopped himself, the need to consume her overwhelming the need to protect her.
He rested his head against hers, breathing in her scent.
"If I go any further, I might harm you. Sleep now, I'll be here," he vowed, his voice thick with unfulfilled desire. Exhaustion claimed her then, and she slept.
The sounds of celebration drifted up from the great hall, a hollow counterpoint to the quiet intensity of the private chamber.
The court rejoiced in the victory over Andrew, oblivious to the darker undercurrents swirling within their Emperor's world.
Inside the hall, wine flowed like rain, the faces of the nobility flushed with gaiety. Azriel made his mandatory rounds, accepting empty congratulations from men like Victor the Baron.
"Your Majesty, it's with great joy that we congratulate you on your victory," Victor said with a deep, oily bow.
The insidious whispers began when Lady Vivian, a woman known more for her cunning than her tact, cornered him.
"Your Majesty, pardon me for asking, but I saw Guinevere, one of the contestants, being carried to your room. She had strange markings all over her."
Azriel's gaze hardened into steel. "That matter is strictly confidential."
"Does this mean you have chosen your wife?" another asked, a hopeful glint in her eye, desperate to ascertain the future of the selection.
"I never informed anyone about choosing a wife," Azriel calmly stated, his voice devoid of emotion, the air around him dropping several degrees, effectively silencing the court.
Suddenly, every eye turned to the doorway.
Anastasia stood there, fragile and exposed, swathed only in a borrowed blanket, the glowing, intricate lines on her body defying the darkness of the hall.
Azriel gave his cup to Rose and went to Anastasia without hesitation, all pretense of decorum abandoned.
"Why aren't you in bed?" he demanded, his concern a tangible aura, wrapping around her.
"What are these marks on my body?" Anastasia asked, her voice shaking, raw with rising panic.
"Guinevere, we retreat to the sanctity of the room," Azriel said calmly, reaching for her.
"No! What happened to me?" she cried, trembling violently, the marks pulsing brighter.
He cupped her face, his gaze burning into hers.
"Everything will be fine. Let's go to the room, and I will explain everything there." He swept her up into his arms, carrying her from the prying, judging eyes of the court, leaving the celebration in silence.
Once back in the room, he placed her gently on the bed. She looked at her arms, tears threatening to spill.
"I look like a monster," she whispered, horror lacing every syllable.
"No," Azriel denied, his voice heavy with sincerity, with a dark truth he couldn't deny.
"You look beautiful."
Rose, Luke, and Charles came in just on cue, their presence a necessary intrusion.
"How's she feeling?" Charles asked.
"Disoriented," Anastasia replied, pulling the blanket higher.
Luke stepped forward, his expression grave, spinning the lie they had all agreed upon.
"Guinevere, listen to me. These lines are a symbol for protection. During the battle, you were badly injured, near death. The Emperor used his powers to save you."
"Really?" Anastasia asked, a flicker of hope in her eyes, turning to Azriel.
"Yes," Rose added, a soft smile on her face, lending credence to the untruth.
Anastasia turned back to Azriel. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't want you to feel indebted to me," he said, the lie tasting like ash, but necessary for her fragile peace of mind.
"Thank you all for saving me," Anastasia said, her gratitude a physical weight on Azriel's shoulders.
"That's not a problem at all," Rose said warmly.
"Get some rest," Azriel commanded, needing this moment to end.
"Wait, what about Hannah?" Anastasia asked, her thoughts always for others.
"She's fine," Rose assured her. "She wasn't injured. She sends her regards."
Azriel left the room, needing air he could breathe without her scent clinging to it, Luke following close behind.
"How long do you intend to lie to her?" Azriel snarled, the moment the door closed, his calm façade dropping entirely.
"It's just for a while," Luke assured him, unfazed by his Emperor's temper.
"Besides, Nari has wiped off the memory of the markings from the other courtiers. You're safe from immediate scrutiny."
"And if she finds out the truth of what the mark really is? Of what we are?" Azriel's voice was dark steel.
"We will face that when the time comes," Luke said, taking a casual sip from a teacup he'd conjured from thin air.
Each passing morning, the marks on Anastasia's body glowed brighter, more potent.
The unnatural light drew attention from people—looks of fear, curiosity, and awe—which made Anastasia deeply uncomfortable.
The subtle power of the mark drew them in, a beacon in the human world she now inhabited.
A few days later, in a sunlit classroom, Mrs. Harper announced a special guest.
"Ladies, this is George. He is the best zookeeper in the country," she said, ushering in a man with gentle eyes and kind hands.
"Nice to meet you all," George said.
"You're going to be bonding with the animals," Mrs. Harper said enthusiastically.
"Isn't that exciting?" Miss Sunshine chirped in excitement. They spent the entire day playing with animals.
Rose arrived at the barn later, ostensibly to see the animals. Everyone curtseyed the moment the Princess came.
"Your highness, to what do we owe this pleasure?" Mrs. Harper asked, bowing low.
"I heard you have cute animals here," Rose said with a smile, looking around for Anastasia.
She found her sitting alone, mind wandering.
George presented Rose with a small, white bunny.
"Wow, it's so cute," Rose said in mock excitement, catching Anastasia's eye.
"Would you like to hold her?" Rose asked Anastasia, extending the bunny.
"No, Your Highness," Anastasia said shyly, the glowing marks on her arms subdued under the barn lights.
"Come on, Guinevere, it won't bite," Rose insisted.
Anastasia took it just to make Rose stop nagging her.
The moment the soft fur touched her hands, her eyes lit up.
"Her fur is so soft," she whispered, her hands stroking the animal gently.
"I know, it's like a fluffy pillow," Rose agreed, smiling at her friend's reaction.
Anastasia sniffed the bunny's head.
"It smells like carrots," she murmured, a genuine smile gracing her lips.
"Would you like to name her?" George asked, sensing the connection.
"Really? I can actually name her?" Anastasia asked, hope blooming in her expression.
"Yes," George replied.
Anastasia looked at the cute bunny. "Snowflake," she said.
"That is a cute name, it suits her," Rose said.
"Keep her," Rose said firmly.
"No, I can't. I don't think it's necessary," Anastasia protested.
"Your marks glow each time you hug it. You really like that bunny, so keep it. It's a gift from a Royal," Rose insisted, subtly reinforcing the new social order.
"Thank you," Anastasia said, sniffling the bunny happily. Rose smiled.
This was all Azriel's idea; he knew Anastasia might refuse a direct gift from him.
Azriel watched from the shadows near a high window, a rare, genuine smile on his face at the sight of Anastasia hugging the bunny.
"She liked it," he whispered to himself.
"You look creepy staring out the window like that, Azriel," Charles said, leaning against the wall, sipping from a teacup.
"I can't help it," Azriel admitted, the smile still in place.
"The way the marks glow is mesmerizing when she's happy."
"I see," Luke said, joining them.
"Why did you give her a bunny?" Charles asked.
"She... looked beautiful... it suits her," Azriel said, slightly distracted by the radiant light emitting from her arms as she kissed the bunny's head repeatedly.
"Hmm. Beautiful. That's new," Luke teased.
"Don't make this more complicated," Azriel snapped, the light momentarily fading.
. "There's nothing complicated about this. The bond has already started taking effect," Luke pointed out.
"Can you make it stop? It's disturbing," Charles said, gesturing to Azriel's face.
Azriel laughed softly, a sudden, bright sound. Anastasia was giggling down below, tickling the rabbit.
"I could feel her emotions inside me," Azriel said, trying to control the uncontrollable mirth bubbling up his throat.
"I can't stop laughing."
"Laugh more, it suits you," Luke said.
"Fuck you," Azriel said, still laughing, wiping tears of inexplicable joy from his eyes.
"Isn't this going to be troublesome?" Charles asked, worried.
Azriel sat on his chair, running a hand through his hair, the laughter finally subsiding into a deep sigh.
"I was informed that Asmodeus got your gift," Luke said, changing the subject to the more pressing matters of the empire.
"That... bastard... is... still... making... fuck," Azriel said, slurring his words as a sudden wave of sharp, heart-wrenching tears welled up, a profound sadness that wasn't his own.
He was sobbing now. "Why is she crying?" Azriel asked, wiping the tears from his eyes in confusion.
"Weren't you the one who gave her a bunny?" Charles asked, baffled by the emotional rollercoaster.
"This much emotion just for a bunny?" Azriel asked, shaking his head.
"That reminds me, there was an acceptance letter I got for the new recruitment for the knights," Luke interjected, handing him a scroll.
"So what does that have to do with the tears?" Azriel asked, still wiping his face.
"Well, her brother is on the list. He shall be here tomorrow. Maybe she would feel safe if a family is here."
"Then bring him here," Azriel commanded, the strange tears finally ceasing, his voice returning to its normal, cold tone.
"I can't take much more of this emotional nonsense."