A/N: Outfit of the day as Nala works in the office. 

The Royal Office of Hawn City

Nala sat at a massive onyx desk, the weight of her new responsibilities pressing down on her. It was in moments like this that she was clad that she had spent coins in the mortal land to learn to read, write and do math. And clad that Amren and Rhys had taken their time to teach her all about the Night Court and their customs.  Piles of parchment sprawled before her—budgets, trade agreements, battle formations, and missives from various Night Court officials. Tons of paperwork that Kier had neglected for long by the looks of it. The flicker of candlelight cast golden hues over her features as her amber eyes scanned the intricate details. A chalice of wine sat untouched at her side.

Her thoughts wandered despite herself, back to the day before when she had told her mates what Rhys wanted from her. Azriel had offered his quiet support, but his expression had been guarded, unreadable. And Amren—Amren had simply smirked, her silver eyes gleaming with unspoken words. Would they follow her, as Rhysand claimed? Or would this role force a rift she wasn't ready to face?

A faint hum of power suddenly filled the room, tugging at her core. Nala froze, her breath hitching. The shadows she commanded stirred restlessly around her, drawn to the unseen force. Then, with a rush of energy, the world tilted—and she was no longer in the office.

She stood in a realm unlike any she had ever seen. The air shimmered with an ethereal glow, and the sky was a kaleidoscope of colors that shifted with every heartbeat. A figure materialized before her, radiant and overwhelming in its presence. The Mother.

"Nala," the Mother said, her voice a harmonious blend of power and tenderness. "You have questions, doubts. It is time you understood why you were born."

Nala's knees threatened to buckle under the weight of the Mother's gaze, but she straightened, refusing to show weakness. "Why now? Why me?"

The Mother smiled gently. "Because the world trembles on the edge of war, and you are a key to its salvation. You were born to wield the balance of fire and shadow, to be the force that unites strength and cunning. The Night Court needs you—not as a sister, not as a soldier, but as a High Lady."

Nala swallowed hard; her voice unsteady. "And if I fail?"

"You will not fail," the Mother said firmly. "Because you are not alone. Trust in those who stand with you, and remember: even in the darkest shadows, there is light, but first you must understand why you were born and why I chose to interfere in the lives of my children." 

"All right, but why me?" Nala asked as she looked past the female before her to the small lake which seems to flow with jewels in the water. 

"You are the bridge between this land and those who come from elsewhere. Your father, Lucian, shares ancient ties with a fae lineage from another realm, and one day, they may seek your aid. You must be prepared to stand by them. Although you were born of a human mother, remember that you carry my blessing from the moment of conception, making you part of my bloodline. This is why you have wings and why you can wield the shadows—they are gifts bestowed upon you by me. They will be essential for the challenges ahead, especially the war that looms on the horizon."

The mother glanced toward the nearby lake as she spoke.

Nala stood in thoughtful silence, her eyes drifting over the shimmering surface of the lake beside them. The weight of this female's, her mother's, words settled heavily on her shoulders. The connection between realms, the hidden blessings she had yet to fully understand—it was a lot to absorb.

"All my life, I've been taught to believe in what I see, what I can touch," Nala said softly. "But now... you're telling me there's more—so much more. Fae blood, shadows, blessings... and a war with the King of Hybern." She paused, her voice trembling slightly. "How can I be ready for something like that? I'm just... me."

The mother placed a gentle hand on Nala's shoulder. "You are not just you, Nala. You are a reflection of equally human, fae and something deeper—something ancient, something powerful. Your lineage ties you to realms beyond your understanding, and with that comes responsibilities you cannot escape. The war with the King of Hybern is not just about power or territory; it's about preserving the balance between the realms. And in times of darkness, it is those who embrace their gifts who stand a chance."

Nala looked down at her hands, seeing the faint outline of shadowy tendrils flicker at her fingertips. "But I've never fought a war before... I don't know how to use these gifts, not truely. What if I fail?"

"You won't fail," her mother assured her firmly. "You may not see it yet, but your instincts, your connection to the shadows and the wings you carry—those will guide you. You've already started down a path you were destined for. Trust in yourself, Nala, and trust in what lies within you."

The air grew heavier with unspoken truths, the weight of the world pressing down on them. Nala took a deep breath, her mind still wrestling with the unknown, but something deep inside stirred—a quiet certainty that she wasn't alone in her journey.

The same power that had pulled her into eternal realm returned her to her office, the heavy weight of her thoughts still lingering in the air around her. The sunlight filtered through the tall windows, casting a soft glow over the polished desk and the myriads of papers scattered across it. She sat in silence, her mind a whirlwind of questions and half-formed answers.

The knock on the door barely registered before it swung open, and Kier stepped inside. His tall, imposing figure filled the doorway, his blond hair gleaming in the light. His sharp eyes met Nala's, a flicker of impatience beneath his calm exterior.

"Have you approved the new budgets for the Darkbringer's barracks and training gear?" Keir's voice echoed sharply through the room as he tapped his heel against the marble floor. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest, his dark eyes narrowing. "Reviewed the correspondence with the Illyrian warlords? Signed the laws waiting on your desk? Tell me, have you done anything at all, or are you content to let your title be ornamental?"

Nala leaned back with a slow, deliberate exhale, her long nails clicking on the table top. Her golden gaze glinted like molten fire beneath the dim torchlight, her lips curling in a faint smirk that didn't reach her eyes.

"Keir," she began, her voice smooth but laced with venom, "I find your concerns... repetitive."

Clink...

"Repetitive?" he spat, stepping closer. "It's called accountability—something this court demands. If you can't—"

Clink...

"Enough." Her words cracked through the air like a whip, silencing him. She rose, a commanding figure swathed in midnight-black silk, her presence filling the room. "It seems you've forgotten your place. Allow me to remind you."

Keir opened his mouth to retort, but she moved faster than a breath. A flick of her wrist summoned her shadows, their obsidian tentacles gleaming as they flanked him.

"Drag him," she commanded, her voice cold as winter steel. "To the Court of Nightmares. Now."

Clink...

Keir's protests were drowned out as they hauled him from the room, his boots scraping against the floor. Nala followed; her steps unhurried but brimming with lethal purpose.

In the heart of the Court of Nightmares, shadows swirled and cloaked the onlookers as Keir was thrown to his knees before her. A silence pregnant with fear hung in the air. The gathered courtiers, accustomed to his authority, now watched in stunned disbelief.

"You question my ability to lead, Keir," Nala said, circling him like a predator. "You think me weak, unfit to rule. Let me show you how wrong you are."

Before he could utter a single word, a flare of her power ignited the air. Tendrils of shadow wove around him, snaking across his limbs, squeezing, choking. Keir gasped, his confidence unraveling as the room trembled with the force of her fury.

"You will bleed as an example," she declared, her voice ringing across the chamber. "And when the blood has dried, the lesson will remain. I am not to be defied."

With a snap of her fingers, the tendrils tightened further, and Keir's agonized scream echoed through the cavernous hall. When she finally released him, he slumped to the floor, barely conscious, his body trembling with pain.

She turned her gaze to the gathered court, her eyes burning with golden fury. "Does anyone else doubt my rule?" Her voice, though soft, carried a weight that pinned them all to their seats.

No one dared breathe, let alone speak.

Nala stepped forward, her expression sharp and unyielding. "Good. Remember this moment, for I will not be so merciful next time."

The court watched as she strode away, her power leaving a chill in the air and fear firmly rooted in their hearts. Nala had not merely punished Keir; she had secured her throne through violence swift and calculated, a warning to all who dared to oppose her.

As Nala turned to leave, the massive ebony doors at the far end of the chamber groaned open, spilling a cascade of shadows into the room. The Court of Nightmares collectively froze as a towering figure stepped through the doorway, his presence as commanding as it was lethal.

Azriel, the infamous shadowsinger, moved with predatory grace, his cobalt armor catching faint glimmers of light, his wings folded neatly at his back. The swirling shadows around him seemed alive, dancing to the rhythm of his simmering power. His piercing hazel eyes locked onto Nala, a smoldering intensity burning within their depths.

The room seemed to shrink in his presence, the courtiers shrinking further into the shadows as his gaze swept past them like a razor. His shadows curled around his form, flicking curiously toward Nala before retreating.

"Impeccable timing," Nala murmured, her voice low, sultry, and unshaken as she met his gaze.

Azriel didn't respond immediately. His steps were slow, deliberate, as he moved toward her, ignoring the crumpled form of Keir still trembling on the floor. His focus was entirely on her, the woman who had just brought a room full of vipers to their knees.

When he stopped before her, his wings twitched slightly, his posture relaxed but simmering with restrained energy. "I felt your power from the mountains," he said, his voice a rich, deep rumble. "And I had to see it for myself."

Her smirk was sharp and unapologetic. "And what did you see, shadowsinger?"

His gaze flicked to the still-silent court, his shadows brushing against Nala's wrist like a whispered caress. "A queen," he said, his voice rough, laced with something darker. His eyes returned to hers, burning with unrestrained desire.  "And every fool who needed a reminder of why she wears the crown." From the shadows he produced a beautiful crown with a massive obsidian stone in the center and placed it on her head with great care. 

This is the crown of the first High Lord's wife. It's a gift from Rhys to show his support of you ruling here in his stead. Everyone here will know that crown as the original owner of it were a well famous figure here, she too ruled with an iron fist.  Azriel spoke down their mate bond. 

The heat in his gaze was enough to send a ripple of tension through the room. Nala, unbothered by the weight of so many eyes, stepped closer to him, tilting her chin up with a dangerous smile.

"And do you need a reminder?" she asked, her voice a silky challenge.

Azriel's lips twitched into a faint smile, his shadows curling tighter around her, as though tethering them together. "Never," he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear. "But I wouldn't mind a demonstration... later."

The promise in his tone sent a shiver down her spine, but Nala didn't let it show. Instead, she leaned in just enough to ensure no one else could hear her response. "Then wait for me, mate. I'll show you far more than a demonstration."

Azriel's wings flared slightly, his smirk deepening, his gaze trailing after her as she turned to leave the chamber. The courtiers watched in stunned silence as their High Lady strode away, the shadowsinger at her heels, his every step brimming with deadly confidence.

Behind them, the Court of Nightmares was left with no doubt: the power of their High Lady was absolute—and she was not alone.