Azra’s eyes grazed over the empty courtyard, looking at the royal guards stationed at the gate and the large front doors to the palace- immobile, even upon his arrival. Azra stiffened as a well-dressed figure finally approached them from a secluded side entrance, rushing over to meet them. 

“Quite the welcoming committee,” Azra said in a hush to Gwen, nervous and displeased by how isolated they were. 

She merely grunted as the man took long strides across the courtyard, dressed in deep reds, golds, and dark grays- the colors of Privillion. Apart from the clothes he wore, the youthful slender man looked unremarkable- brown hair and eyes and freckled skin- but everyone looked unremarkable against Gwen’s stature and dominance. 

Gwen stepped in front of the prince with her arm outstretched as she snarled, “That’s close enough.” Her voice was deep in her throat, eyes flashing as she kept Azra safely hidden behind her. “Who are you? Where is the welcoming party for the prince? Has the King of Privillion no respect?”

Azra peeked around Gwen’s muscular form, glancing up at her nervously before peering back towards the sole stranger who had come to greet them. The man looked surprised as he stared up at Gwen with a clenched jaw, momentarily speechless. His warm eyes snapped to Azra, bowing his head with what seemed like sincere regret as he said, “I do apologize, Your Highness…” When he lifted his gaze it was to Gwen once more. “My name is Mero. I am valet to His Royal Highness, Varyx Vaniya, prince and heir of Privillion. I’m here to escort you inside, where you can meet him and discuss the…arrangements of your stay.” 

Grimacing, Azra felt his stomach squirm. He grit his teeth, digging his nails into his palms as he tried not to let his nerves show. It was odd to have such a small welcome- he was a royal prince, and while normally that would mean a grand display from the court of the realm, he wasn’t surprised it was a limited reception- the King would have made sure of that. While he’d been sent for by King Vaniya, Azra knew that, in truth, he was far from welcome in Privillion. 

His arrival was not something that could be announced, and the shame and guilt of it swelled inside him. 

“Gwen,” Azra whispered, feeling dejected and embarrassed as he gently pushed away her arm. He swallowed against her dark eyes, feeling them bore through him. He didn’t want to linger in the courtyard and he could tell from the look of Mero that the feeling was more than mutual. “It’s fine, really, let’s just get inside. I’m freezing.” His breath was smoke as he spoke, shivering even though he was huddled in the thick fur lining his cloak.  

She seemed to back down, looking over her shoulder at the carriage driver before squaring up to Mero once more. “We will require someone to help Prince Lyroth collect his luggage. I hope your staff can at least manage that much for a prince of noble birthright?” Gwen’s tone was fierce as she insisted, “I will not be leaving Prince Lyroth’s side.” 

The valet looked at Azra with a raised brow, glancing at Azra’s throat. Self-conscious, Azra fidgetted, wondering if his collar was visible. For a moment, he thought the valet might say something to contradict Gwen- a move which would be unwise for all parties involved. But, to his relief, the man gave a short bow, saying carefully, “Of course, right away. If your driver would follow the path to the stables, I’ll arrange for someone to collect His Highness’ belongings. If you would please, follow me…”

Azra watched quietly as Gwen instructed the coach, feeling awkward as the valet continued to look at him with suspicion. Azra swallowed, pulling his cloak tighter around his throat. This man, Mero… Did he know?