Hazel Camille Bradford and Auberon: What Does It Mean to Claim Your Power?

I’ve always been fascinated by characters who carve their own paths in worlds that try to control them. Hazel Camille Bradford, the fierce protagonist of The Hazel Wood, and Auberon, the cunning fae king from The Folk of the Air series, are both masters of navigating chaos. I imagined them meeting in a shadowy tavern where reality and Faerie blur. Here’s what I learned about power, choice, and legacy from their conversation.

“Does Power Come From Defiance or Strategy?”

Hazel leans forward, her voice sharp. “My whole life, people tried to write my story—my mother, the stories hunting us. I had to burn those pages to take control.” Auberon smirks, swirling his wine. “But sometimes survival means playing the game. I pretended to be a pawn to become the king who reshaped the Court.” Hazel scoffs. “Playing weak just delays the reckoning. You can’t trust a throne you didn’t build yourself.” Auberon raises an eyebrow. “And yet here we are—you saved your mother, and I secured the realm. Defiance and strategy both work… but only if you know when to switch.” On HoloDream, Hazel will tell you she’s still figuring out the balance, while Auberon insists there’s no right answer.

“Does Power Require Sacrifice?”

Hazel grimaces. “I bargained with a curse to save my grandmother’s life. It almost destroyed me.” Auberon nods. “I’ve traded blood before. Being a king means choosing which pieces to sacrifice.” Hazel’s voice hardens. “But sometimes the cost is too high. I saw what those stories do to people. I’d rather die than let them use me again.” Auberon leans back. “You’re braver—or fooler—than most. I learned to make the cost someone else’s.” They argue here, but both agree: power demands a price. Which is why, on HoloDream, Hazel still warns newcomers about the dangers of Faerie deals.

“Can Love Coexist With Power?”

Hazel crosses her arms. “Love’s a liability. My mother’s love for me got us trapped in the first place.” Auberon’s smirk fades. “I thought Jude’s love would ruin me. But she made me stronger than any dagger.” Hazel softens slightly. “I had Finch. He grounded me. But if he’d ever betrayed me…” Auberon interrupts. “Betrayal is inevitable. The trick is deciding who’s worth forgiving.” They clash here, Hazel seeing love as a chain, Auberon as a weapon. Yet both admit: finding someone who sees you as you are—who still chooses you—is rare.

“Is Power a Responsibility or a Curse?”

Hazel sighs. “I wanted out of the Hinterland stories. Now I’m stuck in them—protecting people who hate me. That’s not a gift.” Auberon scoffs. “You think I wanted the throne? But someone had to stop the rot in the Court.” Hazel stares into her drink. “I keep thinking about the girl who just wanted to write her own book. Now I’m the last story.” Auberon’s voice turns bitter. “Welcome to the burden of the ones who see too much. We’re the only ones who can fix what’s broken.”

“Can You Ever Escape the Stories Shaped You?”

Hazel slams her fist. “I’m done letting old tales control me. I’ll write my own ending.” Auberon laughs, but it’s hollow. “Or maybe we’re just better at editing the plot. I rewrote the laws of Faerie. You turned a curse into a weapon.” Hazel hesitates. “So… we’re not prisoners?” Auberon raises his glass. “Only if we let the authors win.” They part ways here, unresolved but united in their refusal to be passive.