Before Lyanna could respond, Adrian appeared from the forest, followed by several warriors.
"The rogue must have escaped. I should have secured the place better."
"It’s dealt with." Azrael said, still holding Lyanna. "But we’re moving her to a safer place imdiately. She is not staying here anymore." He said as he released Lyanna.
He was relieved that she was alive and angry that she’d been in danger in his presence.
"Adrian, take her back to the main camp. Make sure nothing gets within a hundred yards of her. I’ll deal with the rogues alone."
"Your Majesty..." Lyanna said.
"No argunts." He cut her off. "Although, you’ve proven you can defend yourself better than I gave you credit for, you’re still human and weak, and I will not risk your safety further. Go with Adrian."
Before she could argue, he was gone.
"Co on, Your Majesty. Let’s get you sowhere safe. And on the way, you can tell exactly how you managed to wound a feral vampire with just a dagger. That’s actually quite impressive." Adrian smiled despite the tense atmosphere.
That night, there was no storytelling, and no laughter around the campfire. The bodies of two dead guards, Adam and Mina, were wrapped in canvas and placed in a supply wagon to be taken back to Thornfield. According to vampire tradition, they had to be returned ho for proper funeral rites, their ashes later scattered in the castle gardens where all fallen Thornfield warriors were honoured.
The rogue nest had been completely eliminated. The mission was a success. But the loss of two guards cast a shadow over the victory.
Azrael had been silent since the battle ended. He’d organized the cleanup, given orders to prepare to return to Thornfield, and had ensured Lyanna’s arm wounds were properly cleaned and bandaged.
As night fell, Lyanna sat in their tent. She had washed herself and changed out of her blood-stained clothes into clean ones.
Azrael entered the tent silently. He had cleaned up as well. He went straight to his weapon rack and began checking his swords and daggers, cleaning away the blood and dust, without saying anything.
"You’re furious because I was attacked." Lyanna started the conversation.
She wanted him to talk, wanted to understand what was going on in his head. Azrael’s hands stopped on the blade he was sharpening, staring at it.
"I’m furious because you could have been killed due to my miscalculation. I thought leaving you with guards was safe. But I was wrong. Adam and Mina died before they could defend you. You were left alone with a feral vampire, ard with nothing but a dagger." He clenched his hands. "You could have died because of my mistake."
Lyanna expected him to be angry at her; for complicating the mission. Instead, he was blaming himself for the danger she had faced.
"Azrael, I fought back. The techniques Adrian taught worked. I survived long enough for you to arrive."
"You did." He acknowledged as he turned to look at her. "And I’m glad that you didn’t freeze or surrender. You’re braver and stronger than I expected."
Lyanna felt encouraged by his acknowledgent. She’d proven sothing today, not just to him, but to herself as well. She had proven that she could face danger and respond with competence rather than panic. She was no longer the terrified girl who had knelt before Azrael’s council a month ago.
"Why does it matter?" Lyanna chuckled. "If I had died, you’d be free of your revenge wife. You could find so vampire noble to marry, soone who’d actually enhance your political position instead of complicating it."
"Don’t be intentionally dense. You know that I don’t want you dead. I’ve never wanted you dead. I want you..." He struggled for words. "I want you to be mine. If you die, then all the ti I’ve spent on you would be a waste."
Unable to control herself, and driven by the vulnerability of the mont, Lyanna asked the question that had been haunting her for weeks.
"What are we doing, Azrael? This marriage, this battle between us, where does it end? What’s the goal? What happens when you’ve finally punished enough, broken , and taken whatever revenge you want? What then?"
"I don’t know." He admitted. "I thought I knew exactly what I wanted. I thought I wanted you broken, submissive, paying forever for your mistake. I wanted you as a hollow shell wearing a crown, existing as proof that I could destroy anyone who dared wound my pride."
He paused, staring at his hands.
"But you won’t break. Every ti I think I’ve finally pushed you too far, you find new strength. You fight at every turn. You refuse to beco the victim I want you to be. And sohow that’s..."
He didn’t finish, but Lyanna understood what he couldn’t articulate and finished for him.
"More interesting than being submissive completely?"
He laughed at the irony.
"Yes. You’re the most infuriating, stubborn, impossible woman I’ve ever t in my four centuries of existence. You should have broken weeks ago, anyone else would have. But you keep finding ways to resist, to maintain your identity, to fight back with what little strength you have.
And I can’t seem to destroy that. Sowhere along the way, your stubbornness stopped being an obstacle and beca sothing I value. Sothing I don’t want to lose." He confessed.
Azrael reached out, and Lyanna expected him to grab her. Instead, he pulled her gently against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on the top of her head.
It wasn’t sexual, dominating or possessive. It was protective, like he was holding sothing precious, and feared losing.
"You’re mine, Lyanna. Not because of revenge but because letting you go would an admitting I failed to own you completely, and I never fail."
She wanted to argue that she wasn’t a possession, that ownership was different from partnership. But instead, she relaxed into his hold, her exhausted body accepted the comfort even as her mind remained guarded.
The day had been terrifying for her. She’d watched guards die protecting her, had fought for her life, had proven herself capable but also been reminded of her weakness in this world.
And now, being held by the man who’d tornted her, it felt oddly safe. His arms were the only barrier between her and the darkness outside the tent. His presence was the only thing holding her together when her mind wanted to spiral into the horror of what had happened.
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