Pulling the heavy door open, Azra was met with a blast of arctic gale. He flinched his face away as he trembled against the sudden drop in temperature, wrapping his arms around himself. Clutching his cloak close to his thin frame, Azra slowly opened his narrowed eyes, despite the hard specks of snow hitting his face. His breath came out in a huff of curling smoke, eyes widening as he took in what had to be the castle gardens. 

Frosted manicured lawns and hedges were arranged in beautiful displays- frozen in time and void of any color. There were no blooms of flowers or leaves on the bare branches of great gnarled trees. The large tiered fountain was dried out with shallow pools of ice in the basin. It could have been lush and luxurious, but the cold had weathered the gardens and robbed them of any vibrant beauty. 

“Is it always winter here?” Azra asked as Varyx marched forward. He tried to stay close behind him, using Varyx’s thick frame to shield him from the wind. Their high leather boots crunched through the icy layer atop the heavy snow, following down a path that seemed untraveled. 

“Not always,” Varyx called over his shoulder, his own cloak billowing behind him in the wind. Azra couldn’t help but wonder if Varyx’s skin was far more accustomed to the cold than his own as he seemed so unbothered by the cold. “The summer is short and perhaps not quite as warm as Solvale.” He glanced at the gardens, saying perhaps a bit more gently, “but there are flowers that are native to these parts.”

Azra remained quiet, not saying anything as he thought of Solvale’s grand and vibrant gardens- filled with color and birdsong; these gardens were nothing in comparison, and it made him ache for home. Varyx’s words rang through Azra’s mind- how he’d been fighting the alpha on every point. Now that Azra was really here in Privillion and had met the man he was destined to marry, how much longer could he really contest his fate? Would everything he loved about his home realm fade to memories?   

As Varyx led him through a gate and down another path along the inner wall of the castle grounds, Azra realized he could hear the faint sounds of battle. There was the clang and scraping of metal and the muffled grunts of soldiers. His heart was pounding like a drum against his ribs as he reached for Varyx instinctively, gripping the crook of his arm to pull him back to Azra’s side. 

Stopping in his tracks, Varyx looked down at Azra with a blazing stare, his gaze flicking to where Azra had touched him without warning. “What is it?” Varyx asked through clenched teeth, his lip twitching up in a snarl. 

Refusing to let go, Azra stepped closer to the far more muscular prince, listening to the sounds that carried over the wind. “Don’t you hear that?” Azra’s hair paled, turning as white as the snow that surrounded them out of fear. His mouth felt dry, gripping the prince’s arm tighter as his eyes darted through the gusts of snow that swirled with the wind. 

Sighing, Varyx tugged Azra forward as he resumed his stride, slowing only slightly as he allowed Azra to keep his grip. “It’s the training grounds. The sound you hear is the knights sparring in practice- you have nothing to fear.” It was only somewhat reassuring as his irritation heightened, muttering curses under his breath that Azra couldn’t make out over the wind before he added, “Draw your hood, and stay silent. I mean it.”

With his nails biting into Varyx’s thick coat, Azra didn’t speak as he pulled up his hood and kept his hand clutching it against the wind. He kept tight to the alpha prince’s side as they finally approached the training grounds. The arena was a sectioned off piece of land, trudged down into a mix of packed soil and snow, making a kind of mucky slush that Azra was hesitant to walk through. There were people in suits of armor, locked in synchronized combat as their swords clashed together. In the distance there were knights on horseback, great black stallions kicking up the earth with powerful gallops as the knights moved their impressive blades to strike down wooden pells. 

Varyx’s mere presence was enough to stop the knights mid practice; they removed their helmets as their swords bit into the frozen ground and then knelt before their prince. Everything grew quiet, the resonance of battle dying down to nothing but wind and horses grunting in the distance. Azra pulled in a short breath, stunned to see so many noble men and women readily in command of a prince only a few years Azra’s senior. 

Stepping forward, Varyx ignored those kneeling as one knight rode toward them on his impressive dark steed, the hoofbeats shaking the earth until they stopped just in front of Varyx. The knight sheathed his sword onto his back as he dismounted the stallion with the heavy thud of shifting armor. Azra could see the quality of his armor was finer than the other knights'- dark, intricate, and shining with gold edging and embellishments. He stood taller than Varyx, his muscular form intimidating as he gracefully removed his helmet.