The Dragon's Bride

DEIDRE -- 05.

The Queen did her best to regain her composure, hoping that her humiliation and trembling, aching limbs weren't evident to the searching gaze of her guards as she finally stepped out of the war tent. The evening breeze coming off of the port was almost refreshing, and she hoped that it might blow away the lingering chills that crept over her skin—she assured herself that they were of disgust, nothing more.

A moment later, the Emperor followed her exit, his warmth pressing briefly against her back before she stepped forward, eager to put some distance between herself and the invasive man. She glanced reproachfully over her shoulder, but he only looked back through that strange mask, and she looked away first.

She could not meet the eyes of Alric, though he immediately came to her side.

"My Queen," he said, breathlessly, and Deidre flushed. She did not look at him, but she paused, unable to bring herself to completely ignore him. He had always been good to her, and it was not his fault that he had accidentally been near her—perhaps he had no idea what had occurred within the tent. Perhaps she alone bore this embarrassment.

"Yes, Ser Alric?" she asked, the honorific an unusual one for her to use, but one that felt necessary. "What's wrong?"

The young guard didn't seem to notice her stiffness, and she relaxed a bit. He was glancing around, his eyes flitting about, and she knew with a wave of relief that he hadn't heard anything occurring within the tent. "Alric?" she repeated, gentler, her heartache easing somewhat as she knew that at least some of her shame was hidden. "What's wrong?"

"We should speak alone, briefly, before we return to the palace," Alric said, his warm eyes meeting hers for the first time, as Deidre finally let her guard down. "I discovered something you should know while you were with the Emperor." He glanced towards the Emperor, then added stiffly, "If the Emperor doesn't mind, of course."

Deidre hesitated, glancing toward the dark-clad man. He stood only feet away, and he was very clearly listening to every word. "May I?" she asked, finding that it galled to be forced to ask him permission, but within his war camp she knew that she was no Queen, only a guest.

The Emperor was still, then nodded his head in silent agreement. He turned to speak to his guards, giving the Queen at least the illusion of some privacy.

Deidre turned back to the guard, who ushered her towards the carriage. There was no real discretion, not when surrounded by so many soldiers from the enemy, but what Alric wanted to show her was nothing that he was afraid for the guards to know, because it would be meaningless to them.

Deidre, though, knew exactly what it was she was staring at, though she wished more than anything that she didn't.

Though it was now repaired, even the amateurish gaze of the Queen could see that the carriage's axel had been chiseled at in such a way that it would break after a limited amount of sustained stress—not immediately, such as when they were at the castle and could easily fetch a replacement carriage. No, it was meant to shatter once they were on the city's cobbles, meandering through busy crowds and over rough roads, where she would be stuck and stranded until the repairs could be made.

"Sabotage," she whispered, her stomach twisting sharply. She had been lucky to meet the Emperor in time to meet his deadline. If she had not? He might have mounted the beginning of the siege then and there—she had heard of the Emperor exhibiting far less patience. Some other nations were not even granted the chance to meet.

Alric, at her side, nodded grimly. "I have not shown anyone else. Who else knew of your intentions to meet with the Emperor, Your Grace?"

Deidre thought—few. She had only received the summons this morning, and she had spoken to Alric, Josef, and a handful of guards. As she went to answer, though, Deidre noticed that Alric's eyes were no longer trained on her as they had been a moment ago. They were focused behind her, and his face was tight with an expression she had never seen on him before.

Turning, she met the amber gaze of the Emperor, the golden glow peering through the mesh to try and decipher what it was that she and Alric were discussing. She gasped, then quickly stepped in front of the wheel -- too late, of course.

"Are you ready?" The Emperor did not acknowledge their whispered discussion, his rasp cold and like grinding metal. "It is dark, and I wish to return quickly to arrange the wedding."

Alric blanched, "The what?"

Deidre sighed, rubbing her forehead with growing frustration. He would not approve. "Nothing, Alric. I will explain to you shortly." She glanced around her -- the Emperor was right. Night had fallen when she'd been inside the dark tent, and the soldiers had begun settling down for the evening. The large war camp was alight with the beginning of flickering campfires, and smoke wafted towards the sleepy port city. She could see the lanterns being lit on the docks and throughout the city.

Soon Abarra would be a Draakan city, and she, its Empress. So much changed in just an evening.

"I am ready to go," she said, stiffly. She indicated to the door, and Alric opened it, gesturing for the Emperor to enter before her.

He did not. He glanced to the wheel that she had been studying, that she had been attempting to hide. "Should I be concerned about that?" he asked, his voice taking on an ominous rumble.

Deidre blanched -- it would be just her luck for the Emperor to think that a sabotage meant for her was something she had designed for him. "My carriage wheel broke while on the way to our meeting. It is why I was almost late. Thankfully, a crisis was avoided due to the diligence of my men, but it has been handled."

She had debated on trying to hide the truth from him, but caught red-handed there was nothing to do about it now. She could, however, hide the fact that the damage had been done intentionally.

He was surprised. She saw it in the way he looked at her, his golden gaze narrowed through the dark mask. But, after a moment, he nodded his head in appreciation of the 'honesty.' "I see. I will have my men follow along behind with a second carriage, in case a second calamity strikes on the way back to your palace."

Was he making a joke? It was a poor one, if so, and she did not mean only in taste. The man was odd, awkward in a way that made her almost certain there was much more to him than what little he allowed to meet the eye. The candlelight within the tent had not lent itself to a clear glimpse at him, but she was almost certain she had seen scales on his limbs.

And soon they would be wed.

Pushing the thought away, Deidre brushed past the Emperor and ascended the steps to her carriage, taking Alric's offered hand as assistance. The snub was not lost on the Emperor, and she had the distinct pleasure of seeing his golden gaze darken before he stepped into the carriage after her.

"You will see Abarra at its finest tonight," Deidre said, her voice soft as the large armored man settled into the seat across from her. He gazed at her quietly through the mask, not saying a word, and she was again the first one to look away.

The windows allowed her a glimpse of the city as they approached, at least, though the dark army that nestled at its base spoiled the view. The tall, pristine white walls looked blue in the dim night light and pale yellow lanterns glowed on the parapets high overhead. She saw the bobbing of torches, and she knew the evening watch made their nightly rounds as they kept guard over the drowsy city.

Little did they know that Abarra's greatest threat would soon be through those walls, let in at her own order -- in her very carriage, even. She might have laughed, if she didn't feel so ill.

"It is a beautiful city, my Queen. You have done well with the years you have been in power."

The words surprised her, quiet as they were. They rumbled across the space between her and the Emperor like boulders grinding together, but they seemed like an offer of peace. She glanced up, wondering if she had misread the man, her blue gaze meeting the amber stare of the Emperor --

For a moment, or maybe there were many, she could not seem to help herself as she counted the brilliant flecks swirling beneath the black mesh of his mask. His gaze was hot, smoldering the air, and she was only distantly aware of the fact that the carriage they sat within suddenly seemed very small and cramped. So strange, this man, with his eyes of molten gold...

"Queen Deidre?"

She heard his voice, though it sounded far off, and she said, "Yes?" Why did she feel so tired all of a sudden? So thick-headed? She tried to shake her head, to clear the fog, but his eyes --

"What truly happened to the wheel?"

Deidre didn't hesitate as she said, "It was sabotaged by someone. A servant, most likely." Inwardly, the red-haired queen reeled, uncertain of why she'd so quickly given up what she'd intended to look into privately -- it was as if her tongue waggled on its own.

Aurixis leaned forward, his bright eyes sharp with interest, "Oh? Do you have a guess as to who?"

"Josef." It was the first name that had come to mind, but Deidre shook her head sharply, finally tearing her gaze from Aurixis' golden one. The strange feeling had only lasted a few moments, but she trembled as if she had just finished running a marathon, and her heart hammered loudly in her chest. She was sure could hear it -- why had she said Josef?

"What's wrong, my Queen?"

The Queen knew better than to look this time, his brilliant golden gaze still stark in her memory. His voice beckoned warmly, invitingly, but she shook her head again. She didn't know if it was her imagination or truth, but she was almost certain he was doing something to her. The window seemed to be a safe enough spot to look, so that was where she turned her gaze.

"There is nothing wrong, Emperor Aurixis."

A pause, then, "That is good, my Queen." The tone was different, his voice muffled, and she risked a glance at him from under her lashes. He, too, looked out the window of the carriage now, a dark silhouette sitting across from her without the golden glow of his eyes to give him form. It was perhaps the most human she'd seen him.

Deidre looked away -- she saw the mighty walls of Abarra rise around them, the gates opening just long enough to let her carriage and their retinue follow through. The tall, marble towers that spired throughout the city pierced the cloudless night sky, dark shadows on the horizon. They were lit only at the top where the guards stood watch over the city below.

Despite what the Emperor had joked, no second carriage followed theirs, only a handful of her own guards and a score of the Draakan Empire's soldiers. She had the privilege of being able to see which wheel had been hastily-mended, and she believed that it wobbled as they went. Hopefully, it would hold until they reached the safety of the palace.

The gates closed with a shudder with a soft, low boom.

Inside the walls, Abarra slept. She didn't know the hour -- how long had she and the Emperor spoken? -- but the way to the palace with lit with small, colorful paper lanterns. Every evening the people of her city placed the lanterns out as guides for the souls lost on the seas nearby. It was tradition, but it left her home feeling warm and welcoming.

"Abarra is almost as beautiful as its Queen."

Deidre stilled, the Emperor's words curling around her like a snake. The words were meant to be a compliment, but as she glanced towards the dark man, she felt a shiver of fear creep over her. She did not know the man or understand him, yet she knew there was much more to him than he allowed anyone to know.

If they were to be wed, she would find out. Before they wed. She would not tie her kingdom to him without knowing the truth.

"Thank you," she said, finally, uncertain of his wishes. "Your words are kind, Emperor."

She had braced herself somewhat, but she was still not entirely prepared when he said, "We will consummate the marriage immediately after the wedding tonight, of course, in your quarters." Startled -- Deidre looked at the Emperor, wondering if he was mad. He was staring at her, mask hiding his expression but brilliant golden eyes once more locked onto her face, seeking hers with an intensity that made her tremble. She fell into that amber abyss, gasping softly.

Too late, she recalled her close call, his eyes snaring hers, and she heard him chuckle softly as she felt the warm fog creep over her mind, caressing her into a sticky embrace that made her want to weep and cry. What is he doing to me? And more importantly, how? Was he a wizard? A monster?

"You are fine, my Queen, do not worry." She had not said a word, so how could he know what she was thinking? Yet she did worry -- the Emperor's reassurance only made her worry more. The carriage bumped quietly over the cobblestone streets, and she could hear the soft chatter of civilians as they wandered about, oblivious to what occurred within the passing carriage.

His gloved hand was soft as it reached for her face, and Deidre could only tense slightly as he let his fingers trace a delicate line down her cheek. She couldn't see the scales, not with the glove once more hiding his imperfections, but she couldn't forget them, either. The man who sat across from her hid something from her -- he paused, and her racing thoughts stilled.

The Dragon of Draakar pulled his gloves off, once more granting Deidre a glance at the pale skin flecked with dark black scales. There was no mistaking them for what they were -- the paper lanterns lighting their path clearly illuminated the dark spattering across his hands. Her only question was why he had them. A horrible accident? Was he truly some monster? Or was there something else at play?

His molten gaze held her still, and she was certain he could read every fleeting thought as it raced across her fog-addled mind.

"Are you frightened of me, my Queen?" he asked, softly, leaning forward. She could smell the sulfur that radiated from him -- her breath caught in her throat.

"No."

- - - - - - -

AURIXIS -- 06.

"No."

He chuckled. It was a testament of her strength of will that the Queen was able to consistently shrug off his glamour, even to the point of shattering it. He had been stunned by that -- very few could break a fully-induced guile, especially one so young and powerless. There was more to the Queen than met the eye. He had believed such before, but now he was certain.

"I am glad," he said, and it was the truth. He did not want to start their future based on fear. Hate, perhaps, but not fear. Hate he could handle. She should hate him, after all. He was trying to take everything she had ever known from her. In the end she would understand, but now? He understood the hate. He did not know if he could abide fear, though, not from his bride. "I will not hurt you."

She was still caught in his glamour, at least, judging from the way her dark cerulean gaze had not wavered from his. Stunning -- it contrasted the bright red of her hair starkly, and he wondered if there might be a glamour placed on him, too. She didn't speak again, though, and he knew that she had fallen back under his spell. At least she had not broken it entirely this time; he already felt the weariness that came from utilizing it starting to seep through him. He would only be able to hold it for a few more minutes.

Aurixis had not been intending to try to capture her in his guile again, not after what had happened in the tent, but the carriage wheel and her decision to keep the full truth from him had forced his hand. His initial fear had been that she would have a guard break the wheel and attack him within the city, but she had reassured him of that specific concern. Now he worried about another ambush altogether: one from the citizens.

A moan drew his attention away from his thoughts -- the Queen's. He was startled, but realized that it was simply her resisting the glamour again. He smiled, though the sound had set his settling blood to racing. She was fire, this Queen, and he did not refer simply to her brilliant red locks. No, the Queen's will was something to be admired. Envied, even.

"The more you struggle, the more tired you will be," he said, softly, though he did not release the glamour. He could have -- should have, even, but he did not. He liked the look in her eyes as she stared at him, as she realized that he could do whatever he wished to her, but did not. He leaned forward, closing the gap between them, so that his face was mere inches away from hers.

She smelled of lilies and roses, of sweet pastries and perfume.

A Queen. And he -- her dragon.

He laughed, the sound a rasping rattle -- so different, they were, yet she called to him. He heard it in his blood: it sung for her. Raced, wildly, like his heart was starting to. Another groan, this time coming from him as he felt the dragon in him shoulder its way to the surface.

Did she sense the beast? Her expression had changed as he had leaned forward, and Aurixis thought he saw a glimmer of fear in those beautiful blue eyes of her. "Are you frightened of me, my Queen?" he repeated, his ungloved hand once more seeking her -- he cupped her cheek, his talon teasing her delicate skin, and she shuddered at his touch. Fire raced through him, and he clenched his jaw, cutting off another growl.

Silence. This time, the Queen did not answer him. So much the better. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know the truth, as he believed her previous answer might have changed.

The dragon's thumb trailed down her cheek, lingering at her lips. Her eyes locked with his -- did she see his need for her? Could she feel it? It raged through him now, like a racing river of fire and lust. She stood still, locked within his glamour, but he knew she sensed it all. Felt it all.

How many years had it been since he had felt the soft, warm skin of another against his? Her cheek against his palm was the first touch he had felt in many years, and he knew he had erred again. He should have ridden separate, should have ordered a guard with them, should have done anything but allow himself to be alone with her again.

Aurixis had thought himself in control again -- more fool he. He had no control around this woman.

The Queen shivered as his hand fell away from her cheek, though he did not return it to his side, as he should have. Instead, he let his fingertips trace a light trail down the slim curve of her neck, lingering where he felt her pulse racing beneath the pale skin. Her eyes were wide, her breaths shallow and sharp -- fear, or need? He was beginning to not care.

Her heart raced as his hand trailed over the slimming forest-green dress, talons catching on the silk. Not quite tearing, but tugging. He could feel the tightness of her body, straining against magic she didn't understand, but he had quite the grip on her now. His draconic nature rejoiced as he felt the growing chaos that pressed through her thoughts -- he extended his to hers, experimentally. Dragons rarely spoke to one another with their mouths, that was a human concept and primitive, in his opinion. It had been many years since he had communicated through thought, and he could not resist the urge now.

At first, he could make no sense of her racing thoughts, too fleeting and chaotic to grasp for more than a moment. He had never tried to mentally speak with someone undergoing a glamour, and he was surprised by how much anger she felt towards him. Anger, and desire. Oh, her lust for him was submerged under the fear of the unknown and what she didn't understand, but he recognized it just as keenly as he recognized it in himself.