A Dragon's Tale

Chapter 61: Reunions

I now have an editor, so you all shouldn't need to put up with my typos and poor/dyslexic editing skills anymore.

:)

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Fiona followed Lord Delmar from the dinner table towards his room, stopping only to hand Conner off to Nurse Belcosta, who took her son to the nursery. She then followed her husband to his room, consciously aware that it was technically her room as well, though it didn't feel like it.

"Milord." She said when they had arrived at the door. "How can I be opening the door?"

"I will show you." He replied as the door opened and they entered. On the other side was an exposed piece of leather that was part of the latch mechanism. He pointed to it. "Place a drop of your deep mana in the leather, then you will be able to activate it from afar. We are bonded, so it will not reject your mana in preference to mine. I apologize that I did not show this to you yesterday on our wedding night; I was... distracted."

"It's no problem milord." She smiled, then took a moment to push a drop of deep mana into the leather.

"Come." He indicated that they should leave the room, closed the door, and then indicated that she should open it again.

It took a moment for her to figure out how to activate it from afar, but she did manage after a minute. He stood beside her saying nothing, but also not hovering. He waited patiently and she never got the sense that he was rushing her, which she appreciated. She pressed gently on the door while activating it and after a moment, she felt the latch disengage and the door swung open.

"Well done." He nodded at her once, then followed her in.

"Milord, could we be talking for a few minutes?" She asked once the door was closed.

"If you wish." He said as he walked into the room, running one of his fingers over the more feminine of the two rocking chairs on a wear spot as he walked past. She was almost entirely sure it was a habit and not consciously done.

"Could I be asking a personal question?" She wasn't sure why she was asking that, but she felt like it was a good idea for some reason. She would've never hesitated with her first husband, but this marriage was quite different.

"You are my wife." He replied without emotion, expression, or explanation, so she took that to mean she could ask.

"I'm having a question about what you were saying this morning." Fiona said after a moment. "It was almost sounding like -- and to be clear, I'm not thinking this -- but it was sounding like you were blaming yourself for Helene's death, because you weren't making her learn magic."

He didn't reply. He looked at her like he was listening, but he didn't reply.

The silence stretched out uncomfortably long before she spoke. "Milord?"

"You said that you had a question, but you made a statement, not asked a question." He replied calmly.

"Oh." She frowned slightly. Anyone should've known what her question was. "I was wondering if you were blaming yourself for the Lady Helene's death." She paused, then added. "Are you?"

He looked at her for a long moment before he replied. "There is no court in heaven, or in the realms of men, elves, Fey, dwarvenkind, or even wildlings that would consider such a charge to have any merit."

She nodded slowly, then frowned as she realized that he had dodged the question rather cleverly. "Begging your pardon milord, but that's not the question I was asking. I'm not blaming you, nor am I thinking anyone else would be blaming you. I'm asking if

you

are blaming yourself, or if you are feeling responsible."

He made a thoughtful sound, tapped one of his claws on the stone floor, and looked at her for a long moment. Something about his eyes had changed. She couldn't say what exactly, but something.

"I bear some responsibility." He finally replied in a tone that was too even to be natural. "As lord of Narlotten and her husband, I was twice bound to protect her and yet did not. She fought me on learning to heal, but I should--" His tone hitched very slightly. "--I should not have given in."

"It's not your fault." Fiona said softly, hoping to encourage him.

"If you had forgotten to wrap Conner in a blanket on a winter night and he became ill and died as a result, would you not blame yourself?"

"Aye, I would be." She admitted.

He said nothing else, and she was learning that this was his default response to almost everything. She supposed that he had made his point and so didn't need to say anything else, but most people would try to drive their point home and he didn't.

"Well, I'm still not thinking it's your fault." She finally said.

"You already indicated that." He replied mostly without emotion, either positive or negative.

"What are you feeling?" She asked, unable to believe that his cold exterior was indicative of what was truly going on with him.

"On which topic?"

She gave him a look. "Milord, I think you can be guessing."

"Very well, the last thing you said was that you do not blame me, which is incorrect since I bear some responsibility." He replied as if he was reciting a list of raw materials for a building, or some other boring and mundane topic. "I find myself unconvinced that it was your real opinion, and thus must conclude that you are willing to bend the truth to assuage whatever you believe my feelings are. Thus, I feel mildly surprised and my trust in you has lowered somewhat."

She stared at him. "You can't be serious."

He raised an eyebrow. "I told you that while you might not like the things I say, they will be true."

"But you were taking what I said in the worst possible light." She countered. "And as long as we're talking about feelings, I'm feeling insulted that you're thinking I would be lying to you; I wouldn't."

"I had thought that as well." He replied.

She glared at him.

He seemed unbothered; completely unbothered in fact. She might've made some comment on the weather for all it seemed to matter to him. Fiona felt herself rising for a verbal tirade when she remembered the reason she had asked in the first place: she was worried about him. She was worried about him and if she took a moment to think about his reaction, she was even more worried about him.

She had asked how he felt because he had perfect recall and it seemed likely that he remembered Helene's death like it was yesterday. Of course he had lashed out when she had brought it up -- well, his version of lashing out anyway -- who wouldn't if someone prodded a wound that raw?

"Milord, would you have been assuming the worst about the Lady Helene if she was saying something like that?" Fiona asked after a moment.

"No." He conceded. "However, I had a long history with her and knew her very well." He swallowed and yet the very corners of his mouth flicked upwards a hair's breadth for a moment before he spoke again somewhat more quietly. "Better than she knew herself."

"I'm not doubting that." Fiona smiled, still feeling a bit hurt, yet realizing that he was far more so. "Could I be making a request?"

He nodded once.

"Could you be trying to see my motives as positive and as me wanting to help instead of assuming the worst?"

He looked at her for a moment before nodding once.

"Then, I'm having one more question and also a request."

"Proceed."

She took a moment to compose her thoughts and rally her courage. She didn't think the answer to this question would be pleasant, but she wanted to know. "Could I be asking how you are feeling about me?"

He didn't reply for several seconds, and when he did speak she got the impression that he was choosing his words carefully. "Fiona, while I am willing to speak on this, I would caution that you might not wish to hear my feelings on the matter."

Uh-oh.

She swallowed. "Why?"

Again, she got the impression that he chose his words quite carefully when he spoke. "There is a difference between what is and what should be; between the emotion of the matter and the truth of the matter. While I do not believe the truth of the matter would be unpleasant, the emotions of the matter could be difficult to hear."

"Even if it's difficult, I'm wanting to hear." She said, internally bracing herself. "Besides, I'm sure I would be imagining terrible things if left to my own devices after that warning."

"Very well." He replied, then took another moment to speak, and yet again she got the impression he spoke very carefully. "Many have remarked to me, both in public and in private, that you and Helene--" He swallowed and his tone waved the slightest amount. "--you two have a certain similarity of spirit." He looked at her significantly. "I know you consider this to be a great compliment."

"Aye." She nodded. "I'm knowing how much you are loving her and so the comparison is feeling wonderful."

"As I said." He nodded once. "However, that similarity does also have its own..." He paused.

"Own what?" Fiona asked, trying not to jump to conclusions.

"...its own disadvantages." He finished, speaking carefully. "Consider for a moment, what if you had remarried someone who was not unlike your first husband, Sean. Someone as caring and kind as he was, with a similar sense of humor and a face that -- while different -- had enough similarities to constantly remind you of him."

Fiona was suddenly quite conscious of her copper-colored hair. True it wasn't the dark red of Helene and Rachel, but it was more similar than most other hair colors might be. She didn't think Helene had been cursed with more freckles on her face than there were stars in the night sky, but as she thought about it, she could've probably passed for a distant cousin of Helene in poor lighting.

"For example, imagine that you had married Seamus." Lord Delmar continued.

Fiona frowned slightly as she considered that. Sean and his brother Seamus had been mistaken for twins more than once, usually when they were playing a prank of some kind. They did indeed have a similar look and sense of humor, but Sean had always been the kinder and more considerate of the two. Not that Seamus wasn't kind or considerate, he was, but not as much as Sean had been.

Fiona thought about it for barely a moment before she swallowed again. That would be torture. To be married to someone so like Sean who wasn't Sean would be... She grimaced and slowly shook her head. The constant reminder would be torture and--

She bit her lip as she looked at her husband. "Oh."

She didn't know what else to say.

"The comparison is unfair." Lord Delmar said. "And yet by virtue of my weakness as a mortal, I cannot help but make the comparison."

Fiona nodded slowly, realizing that she had been automatically comparing Lord Delmar to Sean for a long time now. Thus, it made sense that he was comparing her to Helene. She had been comparing how happy she had been at her first wedding and wedding night compared to her second wedding and wedding night. It would make perfect sense that he was doing the same. Given everything she had learned about how deeply Lord Delmar was in love with Helene, anything else seemed highly improbable. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

"As you asked how I am feeling, I confess that I have had some difficulties not resenting you." He continued.

Ouch.

That stung, but she couldn't blame him.

"That is entirely unfair and not remotely an indication of you as a person." He continued. "My first wedding and wedding night were one of the most joyous days of my life, by comparison, my second was..." He paused, again seeming like he was choosing his words carefully.

"Lacking?" She suggested, giving him a pained half-smile. "I'm knowing the feeling. When Sean and I were married, the whole town celebrated and I... well, I suppose I was a typical blushing bride. I was feeling the same difference you were feeling, but I suppose I wasn't considering that you might be as well."

"I should clarify that you have done nothing to cause such resentment." He said after a moment. "It is incidental, given your appearance and character attributes, not because of your behavior."

"Well, that's at least something." Fiona replied. Honestly, she wasn't sure what to make of that. As she thought about it, something occurred to her though. "Milord, since you were saying that you were knowing Helene better than she was knowing herself, could I be asking what she would be thinking of me?"

Her husband raised both his eyebrows fractionally, then tilted his head very slightly to one side. He made a thoughtful sound and didn't speak for several seconds. "She would have considered you a good woman." He finally said, his tone somewhat thoughtful.

Fiona smiled. "I'm glad to be hearing that."

"I believe I should offer you an apology." Lord Delmar said a moment later, causing Fiona to stare at him for a moment.

'What?"

"I was not as kind with my words as I should have been at the beginning of this conversation. For that, I do apologize."

She smiled at him. "I'm happy to be forgiving you milord."

He nodded, but for some reason, she got the distinct impression that he didn't like that she had forgiven him. Or maybe that she had forgiven him so easily? He didn't seem upset or anything, but he didn't seem all that pleased either. And of course, she was getting this from trying to read his face and body language, which was rather like trying to read a brick wall sometimes.

"Thank you." He said with a subtle nod of his head. "You said that you had a request as well."

"Right." She nodded, still not entirely sure what was going on with him. "Um, last night on our wedding night you were using compulsion so I wouldn't be having any pain, and also to make me enjoy it."

"Was there pain?" He asked.

"No milord, but if I'm being honest, I wasn't enjoying it much either."

He raised his eyebrow. "That is highly improbable given the compulsion I used."

"Well, I was enjoying it in one way I suppose." She conceded. "But..." She took a moment to compose her words carefully. "The compulsion was making it less..." She frowned

He didn't reply, apparently waiting for her to speak.

"I could feel that it wasn't natural and it was actually leaving me feeling... um..." She hesitated. "Well, if I'm honest, I was feeling very unsatisfied. I wasn't liking it at all, and I'm preferring no compulsion at all, even if I'm not... well, you know."

Lord Delmar raised both of his eyebrows a little as he looked at her. He made a thoughtful sound accompanied by a thoughtful frown. "I would not have thought that. I only have experience with one woman, but Helene rather seemed to enjoy it when I used compulsion in the bedchamber."

"But I'm guessing there was rather more, um, 'playing' beforehand."

He nodded once.

"I'm not even opposed to the compulsion, it just felt like..." She took a deep breath. "It was feeling like you were wanting to finish as soon as you could; like it was something to be enduring and you weren't wanting to do it at all."

He made no response, and that's when she realized--

Oh.

She bit her lip. "That's how you're feeling, isn't it?"

He nodded once. "I endeavored to be clear that this was to be an entirely practical marriage. I also clearly communicated to you that I didn't wish for another wife after Helene; that has not changed."

Fiona nodded slowly, remembering that he had indeed told her that. Perhaps she hadn't been focusing on that as much as she should have though. He really had tried to warn her and he had given her every opportunity to turn him down, even offering just before the ceremony. She could feel her heart sinking though. She well remembered how wonderful it was to be married to Sean and she couldn't believe that he wasn't wanting something like that again though.

"Milord, wasn't your marriage to the Lady Helene wonderful though? Why wouldn't you be wanting something like that again, even if it wasn't quite as good as what you were having with Helene?"

He didn't answer right away, and this time she didn't think it was because he tended to be taciturn. "There are exactly two people in all of Illuminar's creation for whom I have allowed myself to care. In both cases, the result was temporary joy followed by years of constant torment, with several hundred more years of that perpetual torment forthcoming. Why would I wish to put myself in that position again?"

Fiona swallowed.

Hard.

"There is a reason I endeavored to clarify this with you." He continued. "I said that there was only one person for whom I cared; Rachel. When you asked about the orc situation at dinner, I endeavored to be clear that I cared not about the suffering of those outside of Narlotten. When you said in our first conversation on the Helene that I loved Narlotten, I explained that I do not care about it, but only my promise to Helene. Was I not clear?"

She took a deep breath, realizing that everything he'd said was indeed true. He had done rather a lot to warn her of this and made it clear that he wanted a practical marriage and nothing more. As she thought about it, she wasn't sure how he could've been clearer.

"You were clear milord." She finally said, then took a deep breath and let it out slowly.

He looked at her for a long moment. "I see that despite my attempts at clarity, I apparently was not clear enough. I do apologize for that; perhaps I should have taken greater care to warn you."

She nodded slowly, her heart sinking until she remembered something. It had already occurred to her that he might be like this before she had agreed to marry him, and she had thought of strong evidence that he wasn't like this; not deep down.

"Begging your pardon milord, but I'm having a hard time believing that." She said, watching him carefully for any sign of response. "From what I've been hearing, the Lady Helene was a very compassionate woman who was caring about everyone around her; have I been hearing right?"

He nodded once.

"Then I'm finding it hard to believe that a woman who was caring that deeply about others could be loving a man who couldn't be caring about others."

He swallowed, and then for a moment, his eyes looked slightly watery. "Even with how thoroughly I knew her, I will confess to not understanding why Helene loved me so." For a moment, the look in his eyes became far away and he blinked a few times, then he refocused on Fiona. "She was capable of loving anyone, even me."

"Even you?" Fiona raised her eyebrow.

He nodded once, but didn't speak.

"I'm not understanding; what is so wrong with you that she could be loving 'even you'?"

He didn't reply for several seconds, and when he did his tone was unnaturally even, even for him. "That is a discussion best left for another time."

"You've been saying that to me rather a lot." She pointed out.

He nodded once. "I have indeed."

"What about the children we'll be having?" Fiona asked. "You claim that you've only ever cared about Rachel and Helene, but I don't think you're so hard-hearted as to not be caring about your own son."

"Most dragons do not care about their offspring." He replied without emotion. "My sire forced me from his cave long before I was mature or ready; long before I met Helene in fact."

Fiona stared at him.

She knew from the glimpse she'd gotten of him while bonding that he had been just barely into his teens at the oldest when he had met Helene. If his sire had kicked him out 'long before' that...

"How long before?" She asked.

"Many years."

"I'm so sorry." Her face fell.

"Of course I would not do that to my own son or Conner." He continued, his voice still almost unnaturally neutral. "I will need a son to rule and I have promised to look after Conner."

"You're seeming awful concerned about keeping your promises for someone who is claiming to not care about anyone." She replied.