Azrael Volgaria

Azrael Luvitica Sovielle Volgaria

Profile

Pronouns
He/Him

Affiliation
Volgarian Royal Family

Occupation
Monarch

Position
King

Status
Royal

Age
21

Biographical info

Marital status
Unmarried

Date of birth
07/06/est. C229

Place of birth
Volgaria, Castle blank

Physical description

Species
Human

Gender
Male

Height
6' 5

Eye Color
Red

Hair Color
Black

Extra
Scar over lip (Left)

Relationships

Family
* Minerva Lilith Veronica (Mother)
* Deimos Volgaria (Father)

Character
Well known as a war hero, and a murderous tyrant, Azrael controls a military-based rule. Most of his power and control stemming from the firm grip he has over the magic council as well as the Volgarian military. Despite this, as a ruler he has yet to wage any wars and has brought stability and peace to the once ever-changing land; his focus on the common people rather than the nobility. To his people, he was once rumoured to be a murderous, greedy tyrant however in the time of his rule opinions have slowly changed. A clearer picture of him now painted to the common people, simply one of them; raised in troubling times. Who did the selfless act of rising to the throne to save them from the constant wars and corruption of the nobility.

Now only works to further the country… does not have any goals for himself, only to complete his duty and make a world where his mother can smile again.

Appearance
Notes: Black Hair bangs (right), Red eyes, Scar on lip (left), Tawny-brown skin,
Often donning a black and gold military style uniform.
Is well known outside of the palace wearing the armour of the black dragon, along with a helmet after returning from war in his youth.

Personality
Azrael, since young childhood, has always bore a cold heart that shows no remorse mostly due to the circumstances in which he was raised. Despite this, his mother's existence has always kept him grounded, being capable of compassion and sympathy. Despite what people have been lead to believe, he holds a level mind and often solves issues with diplomacy rather than turning immediately to aggression.
On surface level, Azrael is unreadable. The thoughts within his mind completely a mystery to others that see no flaws in his persona.
Those who know him extremely closely are aware of his flaws, his love complex and the constant high standards he holds himself to while only expecting the bare minimum of others. He believes he must be the one to always be perfect, to never show a crack. The moment he does, no one would hesitate to attack.
At times he is known to be domineering, especially to those who disappoint him despite his already low standards.
When topics begin to concern his mother, that most believe to be dead, he often loses his composure and easily falls into a more emotional state of mind. Used in the right way, it can make him incredibly vulnerable.
Unreadable, hard working, silent, seemingly unflawed, love complex, shows cracks when his mother is brought up, cold hearted, domineering, takes matters into his own hands, a killing machine who has had little time to grow.

Background
Birth
Azrael was born the son of Minerva Lilith Veronica, a royal concubine to Deimos Volgaria. It was a hard, taxing birth for his mother who gave birth alone in the silence of the night. Azrael Sovielle, the name given by his mother, naming him similarly to a prophecy; hoping he would be the one to bring her suffering to an end. She despised the royal blood that ran through this precious child's veins and the memory the child kept within his existence but she knew that it would be their salvation. It was their only hope to escape their bitter demise.
The birth piqued the king's interest; to learn the child was male and likely a mage. Visiting the young child frequently and lavishing the concubine's room with gifts, he showed intense intrigue. Even gifting the child with the royal name, Volgaria, in a show of affection giving him legal right to the throne. Deimos often pushed Minerva to test Azrael's magic affinity with the council, something she had often made excuses for. He wished to know for certain how strong his son truly was. Minerva couldn't deny him for long…
And so it was done, unusually early for a child though it was to be expected for a royal heir. Azrael had no talent at all, no affinity to mana to any degree. The love the child once had poured into him by almost the entire castle disappeared in a single day. For the second time in his life, being treated like a blight.
The queen retained immense hatred for the child, evident even before his birth. She celebrated the fact he no longer had any more favour than her own children, one being the crown prince. Her hatred did not waver however, he still had the name 'Volgaria' and the claim to the throne. She couldn't kill the child outright, it being far too risky. The mages would stop at nothing to protect their own kind. So she settled for how she bullied his mother and planned to do the same to keep him in his place until the day he died.
All lavish gifts were stripped from the child quickly by the Queen, all but the one thing she could take she took away. The servants gifted to aid in his raising were assassinated or fired, if they didn't already leave to avoid tarnishing their honour. Nothing remained and once again the concubine's room was left vacant. For Minerva, quickly things returned to the way they were. Despite the challenges raising a child alone posed, she did so happily.

Early life
Their life passed simply and usually, without the intervention of the queen, quietly. Azrael adored his mother completely, often following her around to the best of his ability. Even if it was simply to another corner of the same room. He only had her to rely on and she only had him. Though she didn't plan to trick her child, she told him ever since his birth that he was to be the one to help them out of the palace. She didn't explain why often, though her word was enough for Azrael. He understood that he couldn't be like every other child but for his mother's happiness, it was fine.
Azrael was trained to kill and survive from a young age. Whatever his mother could glean from books and her life, she taught him. His first life was taken when his mother ordered him to kill a small, caged rabbit. Unlike his mother's expectations, he did so swiftly and coldly. Almost as if he retained no emotion. As if he shut himself off from his actions. Seeing her child's hands covered in blood, all she could do was hold him and apologise. Though the child would simply hug her in return, with a smile.
Azrael was put through poison resistance training, oftentimes getting incredibly sick. No matter how much Minerva apologised to him, no matter how much she hated seeing her child in pain, she continued. Azrael himself would convince her, telling her that this was alright. By doing this, he understood he could get stronger and be more useful. When he didn't train with weapons, he trained with poison. Not a moment was wasted. Even activities that seemed like breaks to bolster his intelligence.
He grew with a natural coldness, far more mature than any child should possess. He had witnessed and heard too much to be considered innocent by anyone who exchanged words with him. The cold child was kept extremely separate from the others within the palace, viewed as a bad influence and by some a threat. Someone so heartless and quick to anger could certainly injure one of the precious royal children. Especially if that child was the child of the 'thorn witch'.
These fears came true when Azrael was seven years old. It was the day of a usual tea party gathering, which the queen often held in the central gardens. Children of noble ladies gathered at such events to socialise with those of their age (and be showed off as marriage partners). Some of which, under the guide of one of the princes, had begun to wander into the old gardens. The garden was left in disarray ,another petty action by the Queen as they were nearest the concubine's room, with dead flowers tangled by weeds and meadow-like grass that reached some of the smaller children's waists. To some it was exciting, almost like a jungle, though some questioned why they were there. The prince boasted that this was the way to a secret well that they all had to see and that he had done it many times. He taunted the other children to continue otherwise they were simply 'scared little kids'. As it was the royal palace, nothing could hurt them even if they were without guards.
They continued in, reaching a small well surrounded with beds of different plants, lush and fresh as if someone tended to them often. The children however had no concept of what was simply weeds and what was grown purposefully, so began trampling the herbs to get closer.
Azrael watched the children as they trampled over chamomile and sage. A surprising sight to him. There never were children among his mother's important beds of wildflowers, herbs and crops before. His mother lectured him about stepping on them, so he thought it fine for him to do the same. They were children so didn't know any better.
As he emerged from the thicket like hedges that surrounded the small oasis of a garden, the other children seemed fearful. As if a monster had just emerged from it instead of him. A few of the younger ones burst into tears, leading the elder prince to notice him as well.
The elder prince looked down at him with a scornful look, aware of the young boy his mother hated so much. He followed the example she herself set, beginning to ridicule him. Coaxing the others to throw stones, though Azrael had not said a word. This did not bother Azrael until he heard the child call his mother 'thorn witch', 'filthy', 'useless bitch', 'whore'...
At the boy's words Azrael silently pounced, without a single indication of anger beforehand. Far too aware of what these names truly meant, overhearing the knights talk about her in such disgusting manners often. He stared into the eyes of the prince as he struggled, gasping and clutching for air. Nothing else touched but the throat as he strangled the child much bigger than him. Azrael burned, his hair raising as his grip tightened. He was the only one to help his mother. He would protect her like she wanted.
At first the choking and spluttering of the young prince was all that filled the air. The other children were staring, wide eyed. Though once one young girl began crying, the rest were thrown into a hysteria. The yells and screaming of the children quickly attracted the guards who tore him off of the young prince, already unconscious after his desperation to get away and bloody due to how he was tackled onto the stone well.
A chaos ensued, a doctor called for as well as the queen to inform her of the events. Before Azrael could even realise what had happened, he was being dragged towards the throne room to be judged for his actions.
The queen pleaded with the king, as he was dragged before his father, asking for a harsh punishment. That their precious son may have died, that this child needed to be retrained into submission. Azrael lifted his head, his eyes still burning with hatred as he looked to the queen. Immediately he was corrected, shoved down by the knights who held him. The sound of his head slamming against the hard parquet floor breaking the queen's whining. Coldly, the man in front of him sentenced him to confinement within the north tower. To spend a month alone reflecting on his actions.
Azrael looked back to his mother, her hands firmly over her face. He felt the weight of the world crash down on him seeing her this way. He had done this. It was his own fault his mother was upset. His mother must've been angry with him as he could not be perfect, as she wanted. In that single moment he had already done enough reflections for a lifetime, the dread sinking in.
However, his punishment began. Azrael thrown inside the cold, abandoned room. The only furniture a bed with no sheets or mattress and a table, with nothing laying on it. Perhaps the only thing in a decent state were the large chains attached to the walls. He remained on the cold floor, sniffling as he thought back to his mother's face. He couldn't even apologise to her.
Azrael perked up as he heard the unlocking of the door. Though not met with any of the faces he would expect. Instead two people, with menacing smiles dressed in black garb. The people spoke calmly, though their eyes told another story. Azrael didn't move until they began to approach. One lashing out a large whip at him, the other with the chains prepared. As he scurried to defend himself, he was caught by his hair and pulled back. Dragged towards his true punishment.
Hell for Azrael began then. Wailing and screaming, he took the lashings and cuts. The knives they used etched their horrible faces into his memories. Even the sound of the whip making his body convulse involuntarily. Everything felt as if it was on fire. His throat ached each time his body forced another cry out of him. As if it helped, his eyes were held tightly shut. He drifted in and out of consciousness, snapped awake by pain each time.
Eventually his hands and feet were unbound. He fell limp to the floor drenched in his own sweat, vomit, tears and blood. Still coughing and wailing from the immense pain. The two left without another word. Azrael panted, holding his stomach as he curled up in pain. Each second suffering. Sleep never managed to keep him away from the pain long enough, each time snapping awake. The small, broken windows far above him all he could gauge the passing of time with. The purple of dusk slowly became a dark night.
In the moonlight's haze coming through the dirtied windows, he could make out the shape of a creature. A bird? As he raised from the cold floor ,wincing and stumbling, he noticed a long tail and two pointed ears. Then a high pitched meow. Immediately rushing to the window high above the stone wall and cold floor he held out his ripped shirt preparing to catch. As he did, the cat hopped down from the height landing perfectly on its feet. It brushed against his legs, the fiery pain flaring up again. Azrael buckled to the floor as he winced, small tears hitting the stone below. His cries soft and high pitched. The cat gently sat beside him, licking his hair and occasionally meowing at him.
Despite the pain. The loneliness was gone. He knew his mother must've been alright. He was glad he was punished instead of her. Everything would be fine. Even if she hated him.
He flinched awake as he heard those people approach again. His eyes darted around the room to search for the cat, to hide it, but it was already long gone. It was a relief, Azrael knowing they would've killed it if they found it. From then on, the days continued. Though his small friend visited each night, lulling him to a comfortable warm sleep.
A month went by. Every day torture for Azrael. But with each one that went by, it became more and more bearable. The pain was nothing compared to his longing for his mother. Once the dawn broke, the door was opened for him to leave. Led down the tower escorted by knights on each side. He walked out onto the soft, lush grass and took in fresh air. Despite how it stung his wounds, he felt free…As he adjusted to the glare of the sun he made out a shape of a person; his mother, kneeling outside the tower with a relieved smile as she saw Azrael.
She opened her arms to him as he walked out. Though Azrael didn't rush to her as he normally would. Minerva could only wince at the sight of her son, scrambling from her knees to wrap him in her arms. Her hair tangled and matted. His mother's favourite and only dress was wet and stained with dirt. He believed it was his fault she was like this, apologising to her. Telling him he wasn't at fault she weeped softly, holding him tight to her chest. The only thing she could do was apologise. As she had done almost every night before. He never understood. Neither did he see how quickly his soul emptied of emotion, neither he saw the gash over his lip or the bruising all over his body. Neither the anger that rose within Minerva.
After a few days of forced recuperation by Minerva, which he didn't feel he needed due to the numbness he felt, Azrael was once again back to his daily life. Azrael took his mother on long walks in the garden, now unable to go out unsupervised, as far as they could without being seen. Telling her about the cat and how he wished to see it again. Minerva smiled and told him that they most certainly would meet again. The hope he got from her words made him search every day.
Not long after, led by soft mews, Azrael found a bundle of kittens along with his friend within the thickets. Excitedly, he brought his mother over to show her. Minerva was filled with joy at seeing her son somewhat normal again, lively and dragging her around the garden. The incredibly numb cold child he had become after the events of the tower seemed to melt away. She could only pray it would last longer than just this moment.
As he pulled her into the thicket, moving away thorny branches he revealed the nest. Azrael looked up to his mother, waiting for her response as she laid eyes on his friend and her kittens. Minerva's lips parted in a smile and she bowed her head, thanking the cat for what she had done. Azrael didn't understand her actions at the time, but they remained vivid in his memories.
Minerva and Azrael visited them frequently, often giving whatever food they could spare of their own to feed them. From this Azrael slowly grew very fond of cats. The way they would silently watch the world with unchanging expressions.
His training continued on, though often doing far more in his own time outdoors. Going hunting, killing small creatures to feed the kittens. He escaped the eye of the castle guard while he was outside, climbing up into trees quietly or jumping down from high walls. He quickly became a cunning and decisive child, and eventually got to know the palace's layout completely. Each day returned to his mother with the mother cat, who he had named Lichta.
Though, he wasn't invisible during these escapades. A few servants catching glimpses when out in the gardens. The queen eventually got word of how he would often be in the castle gardens with a cat. Deciding enough was enough, she sent a knight to take care of the filthy strays that remained there to put the young boy in his place. When the cars went missing, Azrael immediately headed to their den. He was met with the sight of a mangled mess as he went to the thicket. Though he didn't feel anger or sadness, he simply felt empty. He gently buried each of them, their blood covering his hands. Lichta the last to be buried, Azrael thanking her for all that she had taught him in their months together.

Later Life
Azrael began official weapons training in his teen years, with special permission Minerva received after claiming it would allow him to become a soldier and benefit the army. With a small amount of convincing, the king allowed this and agreed that as a prince of the nation it was his duty to aid his country. To learn all he could in the unknown amount of time he had, Azrael often trained til dawn, breaks few and far between; sleep limited to only four hours. Among the common soldiers, no grudges were held though none of them made a close bond with the cold prince. His mind was always completely on training, a work ethic no one could keep up with. No matter how painful or strenuous, he continued. Dulling his sense of pain further and further.
His abilities were first put to the test when he was 14; in an invasion of a neighbouring country, rich in resources. No soldier that day wished to fight; some seeing their own families among the populace. The battlefield was chaotic. Invading by surprise to a country that had no preparation, it was far too easy. The soldiers wore grim expressions, most struggling with the reality that they must take the lives of these defenceless people until the country surrendered. All at the order of their noble commanders who didn't lift a finger.
One soldier shuddered, frozen in place with a woman crouched by his feet heavily injured; Unable to complete the job he had started. Azrael took the life of the one infront of the soldier, who was shaking desperately as they held a spear to the young woman's neck. Without a word he left. He took the most lives that day. Thousands of innocents fell to his hand alone, unable to watch the soldiers struggle with their morality. He already was cursed with dirty hands long before this, he saw no reason why these soldiers should be forced to kill more. He was seen as heartless, merciless and cold by those around him who couldn't understand his actions. Yet praised by the higher ups who saw the others who shivered at taking the lives of children useless.
On his return home, Azrael was granted his first audience with the king since his birth. Entering the true palace once more, as a cold, hardened young boy. His father praised him infront of the noble masses, claiming what good deeds he had done for the country. The queen wore a fake smile for the audience, though inside celebrated at how this made Azrael seem. Exactly as she wanted, the nobles’ views of the 'thorn witch's son' solidified. Becoming known as 'the silent reaper' among those who were on the battlefield that day, rumours quickly spread of his true personality.
Deimos offered his son a promotion, making him a general of the military as a reward for how he had performed. Azrael met his eyes and accepted, leaving with no more words. Nothing to say to the monster who he would have to kill in due time. He pitted him, who had lost to greed and lost all sight of strength with it. He felt no connection to the man he was supposed to call father, the man who abandoned him and his mother to suffer. Azrael could only hope no more wars would be waged for a while, for the people's sake.
The rumours after that day spiralled out of control, hushed whispers speaking of the nightmare of the battlefield that day. The queen having dipped her own feet in the water, spreading more vicious rumours and reminding them of the events from when he was a child. To nobility, Azrael was nothing more than a cold murderous monster to be feared; like a villain from a fairytale. While they celebrated the victory with parties which the spoils of war paid for. The commoners having to toil on with their lives, paying higher taxes for 'war fees' and for 'reconstruction' each extra bit of money added just pocketed by the reigning lords or the king himself.
During the summer, a hunt was held during a time of prospering for the kingdom who sat on the riches of war. An event attended purely by those in the upper circles. An event where representatives from each family and knights would compete in a hunting sport. Then the winner would offer their spoils to the hand of a noble lady. Azrael was invited to attend by the Queen, who planned to use it as another breeding ground to spread malicious rumours and throw both Azrael and his mother once again into the ground.
The hunting gala was a flashy affair to all who attended. However Azrael attended in his military garb, causing quite the buzz among the nobles finding the 'unintelligent' prince quite laughable. Though Azrael ignored them, taking the event itself seriously enough to warrant armour. He knew that anyone could plan at any moment to have him killed and he had to be ready whenever he went outside. Especially during a sporting event where weapons were the norm to have.
Azrael hunted as he had learnt during his childhood, the tips Lichta had taught him (as well as a cat could) keeping his senses sharp. He aimed his bow with immense precision, taking the lives of beautiful deer and foxes without hesitation. Marking each with his red tassels to be counted in his score. He didn't see the allure in winning the competition and had only attended at the queen's request. Though in far less time than most he had collected the most valued hoard out of any.
Azrael set his eyes upon a white deer, with large branching horns. Deciding it was unnecessary to go to kill more than he had, he lowered his bow. The smell of iron hit his nose, causing him to assess the deer once again. It limped through the river, a golden tipped arrow lodged in its side. Seeing it's suffering, he guided his horse along to the river. Getting down to put the creature to rest swiftly with his knife. Though as he gently held the head of the weak deer, the sound of galloping horses startled it. Another arrow launched into the air from a distance. Azrael, assuming it meant for him, hit down the sloppily aimed arrow with his dagger. He shot back at them, tracking their movements through the rustling of the leaves. Waiting to strike. As the assailants entered the clearing, he let loose of his arrow. But the sight of bright white horses told him all he needed to know, quickly he attempted to change the direction of his arrow. Luckily, the arrow hit a nearby tree avoiding his initial target of the throat.
Two of his step brothers emerged, one the crown prince and the other an elder brother only recognisable because of the emblems their steeds bore. Azrael moved to the deers side, looking up to the men who began shouting claiming it was theirs to kill, calling him crazy for firing at them. Though as they recognised the red eyes and black hair, they began to speak mockingly, ordering him out the way as they would a servant. They scorned him for daring to shoot. Azrael didn't respond, his attention on the deer that was ready to bolt into their horses' way at any moment. As he saw one hoof raise, he swiped at its throat.
The princes let out outraged yells as he did so, stealing a kill that was theirs. Telling him that without that shot, it would not have died so easily for such a beginner. Azrael, knowing they would not understand that they may have gotten far more injured if the deer had bolted, sighed. After tying the red tassel around one of the deers horns by the rules, he took off; not wanting to have to fight and ruin his mothers plans for a second time.
The competition ended at the sound of a loud horn, the hunters called back for the results to be processed. In a short amount of time, they were given to the king who seemed intrigued at the victor. He announced that his own son, Azrael, had won by a monumental amount. Congratulating him and cheerily laughing, agreeing that he did see this as a particularly obvious outcome. After all, his son was a brilliant warrior. He was called forward to offer his victory and crown the queen of the hunt in order to continue the festivities.
Azrael offered his victory to his mother, the Lady Alorgriche. Who attended with her adoptive family in order to keep face, already quite a disappointment to them.
At first there was only silence at this outrageous remark. He should've offered it to the highest ranking woman, the queen or a young lady he wished to wed. The queen's face reddened as she realised what he had done. He had won this event and used it to praise his mother, whom she hated purely to antagonise her. Though after the brief silence and confusion, the laugh of the king made the nobles all slowly follow suit and accept the result. The king was entertained by his strange son's actions and accepted that the concubine Minerva would be the queen of this year's hunt. Minerva accepted, beginning to praise her son.
Yet the yelling of one of the other princes cut this short, causing a commotion among the nobles. The yell claimed the 'victor' had stabbed one of his elder brothers, the crown prince. That it was all a farce to cover up an assassination attempt. Using this to her advantage, the queen immediately got the guards to apprehend Azrael. Azrael allowed his arms to be held, not attempting to break free. He did not attempt to speak, knowing the queen would twist it against him. The other prince stood by his mother and began to recount his version of events, recalling how his brother was injured by Azrael on purpose. At first it seemed just to attempt to steal a kill however as the story continued it seemed much more likely it was purposefully planned. The nobles only saw the murderous, heartless prince they had come to pin Azrael as. Despite being the victor of the hunt, the king was pressured by the rest to give a punishment to Azrael on such a joyous occasion.
The king sighed at the turn of events, his fun ruined. They had no true evidence, but the prince's word and the crown prince’s very real injuries meant a punishment must be given. The king flippantly demoted his military rank, yet again making him just a soldier. He told the crowd that he wouldn’t further punish the ‘soldier’, due to the nature of the day's events and the fact that accidents often happened on days like these. The queen was not happy with the result though she accepted it at face value, knowing she would have to give a punishment of her own.
Azrael lost a lot of his freedom yet again, unable to participate in high society with the lack of a title, so devoted himself to training. He dedicated himself to his mother's whim, the sooner he was able to take on his father and his private guard the sooner he could help his mother. The sooner they'd be free of these people that kept them in this gilded, filthy cage with no escape.
The soldiers themselves slowly grew more accustomed to the prince, seeing more of him and seeing how hard he worked. How he would sacrifice his time taking on tasks they didn't want to do. As a general, he had taken on a lot of punishments for the others onto himself which only led them to question his actions more. Until they came to the simple understanding that he was an honourable person. Just a kid who's life had fallen this way.
At age sixteen, yet again the military was called to war though this time one that had been brewing for a while. It wasn't a senseless invasion, the stakes were bound to be much higher. Many of them could lose their lives. Azrael turned to training again with the time he had left before deployment. He knew that this war would be different in theory, yet it felt no different to him. There would be fighting. There would be death. He would come back victorious, as if it was a scripted play. All countries fell to Volgaria. No matter how hard they fought.
Azrael spent his last day inside with Minerva and the cat who had moved into their small annex of the castle. The one kitten that was the sole survivor of the Queen's petty jab, requesting the filthy strays be removed. Her own punishment for Azrael, warning him to stay in his place as a child. The cat was named Lucia, after the dawn light she was found in after the events. Minerva, Azrael and the addition to the family were close. Their moments together were always the happiest ones in Azrael's memories; even if they didn't speak, each other's company was enough. Minerva promised to take care of Lucia and make sure that she received a similar amount of love to all that Azrael gave her. Even if that wasn't good enough for Lucia, since she wasn't him. Azrael smiled to his mother, gently holding the cat to his chest. He knew that he would come back, he needed to. No matter the cost. To complete his mother's dream.
The battlefield was a hellish place for all foot soldiers, most conscripted. Torn away from their lives to fight, even though they were not capable fighters. Azrael was utilised by the noble generals as a weapon, sent in to slaughter masses of soldiers on the front lines. Each time expecting him to die, though each time he returned having completed his task perfectly. They saw him as a perfect tool, easy to throw away but awfully effective at what he did. Realising this, they also gave him a horse to be much more effective at rushing in. He ended up with the role of leading the conscripted soldiers in battle. The enemy soldiers upon seeing Azrael, the knight captain clad in black amour, would fret immediately. To them he was a dangerous foe, who not even ten at a time could take on if he was backed up by the other foot soldiers. Those who he led saw him as a true monster, powerful enough to take out swathes of enemies. They followed his lead, though feared what he may do to them if they didn't.
The war raged on for months yet ultimately ended in victory for Volgaria. Azrael returned yet again a hero and a warmonger. The black armour of his becoming a symbol of wartime for the country, the victory procession back burnt into many memories of the common folk. The steed he led the procession on, a black mottled mare that he took into battle. The dried blood still not cleaned from the horse or him, a morbid sight. Everything around painted him as a grim reaper and all the people could do was thank their fortune they were in line with him. The procession back to the capital was seen by people all over, many celebrating and many mourning. Nobles adorned the soldiers with lavish praises, thanking them for their service to the country despite their usual opinion on the 'slovenly' soldiers. Azrael was offered a small flower by a young girl, thanking him for bringing back her father alive. He didn't exchange a word, but took the flower with gratitude.
Upon returning, Azrael only had his mother in his thoughts. Yet was immediately called to an audience with the king. Azrael made a disruptive entrance, staring to the king before taking a knee In front of the throne. The king praised his son, asking him to raise his head. Though Azrael did not, knowing the look of hatred would be far too clear on his face. Deimos proudly announced that during the solstice celebration, he would award his son with a gift for proudly defending his country and bringing home victory once again.
The summer solstice celebration is a week-long affair, with a masquerade party on the last day (the first day of the solstice). The traditional celebration was pushed ahead so it could be alongside the victory celebration. Though it did not help at all to lift the people's spirits, many did not understand how they could celebrate in such a rude manner to those who had lost their lives. Azrael thought the same, it was not a time to celebrate.
Azrael returned home to his mother and Lucia. Minerva happily took him into her arms, glad to see her son's face again. Azrael spent his time not training with his mother, in rare moments they'd meet to eat or talk before they retired for the night. Azrael continued his hard work despite the festivities and all the non guarding soldiers being on a break, knowing that now he had to work harder than ever. Only a few years left until he was age and his mother planned to start the rebellion. He had to become her perfect, flawless blade. He devoted his entire life to that moment.
During the masquerade, Azrael was given his reward. A re-promotion in the military as well as a large piece of land from the country they had just conquered. Azrael bitterly accepted, the land that was just torn from people who called it home thrust into his hands so flippantly. To Azrael's surprise, his father continued. He told Azrael that his fine skills with a blade and sense of duty to his country would make him a fine king. His father spoke jokingly, though the intentions behind his words were clear. If the crown prince showed any flaws, he would be replaced. The queen attempted to laugh it off as a joke, though the king smiled asking if she thought differently. She simply kept to herself afterwards. Azrael rose before bowing his head, stating that he could never match his majesty or best him in battle. Azrael, aware this was a slight challenge to his father, stared up at him. Though it was simply met with a chuckle. Deimos was always a strange and unpredictable man, who found comedy in the most morbid of moments. Even as his son scorned him for his lack of combat ability. The festivities of the night continued awkwardly, Azrael making his leave after greeting the Atford family who approached him earlier. They are one of the few families who tried to approach Azrael as a potential future king for the country, to lead their rebellion, but never succeeded in convincing him.
Azrael returned to his mother's side, informing her of the reward. She didn't have much of a response, she simply told him how glad she was he was back home. Troubled and quite tired from all the events, and the forced drinking, he fell asleep in his mother's lap. With Lucia sleeping on his head. A moment of peace despite the chaos of the world around him.
Not even a week later, the sudden news of the king's death reached Minerva's ears. Deimos' sudden death changed everything, Minerva having to quickly put the plan into action. His death shook the entire castle into a frenzy. With this, Azrael took out his siblings one by one. The noble knights set to 'guard' not offering much defence. The true knights and guards were already affiliated with Azrael due to their ties in the military. Many of them stepped aside for him, allowing his march to continue. He dragged the two bodies along to the throne room. Sparing those who surrendered. However his step mother and siblings did not. Their lives ended abruptly, Azrael showing no remorse as he cut them down. It was a sight to behold, the young prince covered in blood on the king's throne with a pile of bodies surrounding him.
Everything moved like a blur for Azrael after this point, Minerva's true plan crumbling behind the scenes. A week later his coronation was held, a morbid affair for many nobles who scorned him in the past. Yet it was a new beginning for most. Many dreaded the new rule, Azrael's reputation worse than his father's. Though those fears were short lived as Azrael took quick action to seize power. Resolving a lot of corruption among the nobility, utilising the military as his source of internal power as they now sided with their new king.
In these initial years, he took time to weed out the corruption within the palace as well. Many of the staff were fired and replaced with those that would instead be loyal to him. He worked tirelessly to create a strong bong with the magic council as well as the nobles who vowed their allegiance to him.
His mother grew more deranged and stressed as life went on, seeing hauntings of those who had hurt her and reliving her youth over and over. Always warning Azrael of those that would harm him, that he should give up and simply live with her in peace. Azrael brought it upon himself when he was 18 to 'imprison' her for her own good in a wing of the castle, with a few maids. This way she was utterly protected from the world that brought her grief.
He spent his recent years on the throne advancing the country forward, bringing a new era of peace with his rule. Focusing on trade and self sustainability by allowing for the growth of commoner owned businesses. Many people who now seek their business to be popular visit Volgaria and often set up a branch there or trade their goods.
Azrael remains a stalwart leader despite his young age, always ready to strike on those who seek to hurt the kingdom. Although he himself never sees the benefit of war when a diplomatic approach can be taken, hence readying himself to receive a partner from a neighbouring kingdom to strengthen bonds and perhaps set up new trade routes. His reputation remains stained among the people, however he has rid the country of a lot of corruption allowing for cheaper living. The common people now side with their new king, not wanting any more changes within the country. Now happy with the way things are. Yet there are many with different goals who still seek to force Azrael off of the throne.