Disclaimer: I don't own Slayers, or even pretend to. I'm just not that special.
Author's Note: Bleh. This is more inspired by Slayers than anything else, I think. Nevertheless, I wrote it in a single burst from my muse, and you see it almost exactly as it came to me. A very rare thing. Tried to give it more of a sense of history, played a lot with the atmosphere and the setting- had a good time. ;-) As for what I'm reading lately, well, I recently finished reading through the Faces three-parter by . . . davner? Was that it? I forget . . . ::sheepish:: In any case, I enjoyed that a lot. Take a look at it. Features Zelgadis and Sylphiel, not a coupling one sees often, but done very well. And there's lots of X/F, which always gets me reading. ;-)
I first spoke to prophecy when I was fourteen. I lay in a fever for days, and the court doctors could do nothing despite their great learning. Nor did the priests know how to cure me, but stood helplessly by with their prayers as I tossed and turned, and the heat of my sickness consumed me, until finally I began to speak.
I myself have no recollection of that time, but the priests recorded my words, and preserved them. They were bitter ones for my father, who sat by and listened as I spoke from the depths of my sickness. As I told him that the empire he had fought for, so hard and so long, would not be built by him, but by the child I would bear. He would have no sons, and my child would have no father, yet that child would achieve what his grandfather had not. That my father, an emperor without an empire, would be forgotten by history, and his bastard grandson would rise to be the greatest of leaders, a wonder among men, and rule all the lands from the sunrise to the sunset.
When I woke from the sickness, my body had started down the path to womanhood, and the freedom I had never realized I had came to an end. My father kept me under lock and key, surrounded by gaurds and never left alone. Suddenly I was his most precious possession. Not because I was his only child, but because I was the instrument through which he would challenge fate and avoid the destiny that I myself had foretold. He would protect me, and then have me wedded and bedded by the lord or general of his choice to insure that my prophecy would never come to pass.
And so time passed, and I grew, and forgot what the sky looked like, and how a fresh breeze felt on my face.
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The dragon festival was always a special time in the palace, and in the city that spread out below it. The dragon was my father's seal, protector of his lands, and the festival a special time to celebrate, to feast and enjoy life and the many pleasures to be found in living. It was my favorite time of year, because I loved the elaborate ceremonies, the pagentry and hint of reckless, the uncontrollable mischeif that lurked even in the most formal of celebrations.
I stayed with my father in court that day, seated properly on a low cushion beside his high one, resplendant in the silks of royalty. My father looked grim, as he always did, as he watched the elegant and graceful dance of the courtiers, so refined and careful, bound by traditions older than the ages. Today was special, though, different from all other days. Today they planned for the spectacular Feast of the Dragon, to which nothing could compare.
The cooks had already come and gone, reporting on the menu for the coming feast. It was splendid, as was to be expected. They kept us there for a good hour, listing the foods they would serve and the way they would be prepared and presented. I was hard pressed to stay awake, despite the splendors they described. Truly, the feasts were grand, but then they were always grand. It was not the food that excited me.
I sat up straighter when the next party made their presentation. These were the jugglers, the dancers, the musicians and dancers who would be the entertainment at the feast. It was their presence that I most looked forward to, their jests and acrobatics that I enjoyed the most of all the events at the dragon's feast. They performed the sacred dances that told stories more ancient than our kingdom, and more wild. To me, they had a freedom beyond my grasp, something that I had forgotten as I had forgotten the sky, and the wind.
I scanned their faces, lowered at that precise angle, their skin rough and marked by the weather. They were all of them slim, with a hardness about them foreign to the pampered life of the court. All of them with their eyes properly resting below the presence of the emperor and his daughter-
-I felt a shock go through me as one of them met my eyes through a fringe of shadowing bangs. Powerful eyes, deep and dark, fastened on mine and held with the intensity of a sun I did not know, a darkness deeper than the shadows cast by candles and lantern-light. That stare was like a touch, and my heart thundered in my ears, and I could not look away as time stopped, and my father's voice faded into nothing, and there was only the sound of my heart to fill the silence.
Finally my father finished speaking to them, and they bowed as one. Our stare was broken with a snap, and I dropped my eyes as my hand came up to my chest. I could not seem to breath properly, and I could feel the heat in my cheeks. Somewhere, buried deep inside me, an anger rose- he dared to look upon the face of his princess, to meet my eyes with such arrogance and stare back at me- he dared!
I tossed and turned that night, trying to rid myself of that feeling, but I could still feel his gaze on me, and when I closed my eyes I saw his, dark and full of secrets. It was as if they were challenging me, daring me, tempting me towards something I did not know existed, calling me irresistibly with a wildness I did not understand.
The feast day dawned, and I rose late to find the palace already abuzz with activity, the servants speaking in the hallways in excited voices, for once forgetting the decorum that was proper in the house of their lord. I changed from my robe and pants to my ceremonial clothing, with the eight layers of silk over the soft underdress, my restlessness of the night before forgotten in the excitement of the festival.
I sat impatiently through the ceremonies of prayer, following the ritual movements and murmuring the prescribed words of praise, but I was impatient for the feast, and for the festivities of the evening.
Finally the rites were done, and we moved to the great feast hall, and the first course was served, and then the acrobats came in. And he was among them, the dark man who had held my eyes with his, and suddenly I could barely touch the fine foods placed before me. How could I have forgotten that he would be there? I could not take my eyes off him, although now he did not look at me. Now I could see the fineness of his features, young and untouched by time, and dominated by those wild eyes below his fringe of dark hair. Now I could see that he was built slim and angular, muscled as all the acrobats were. He wore only pants of fine silk, and bands wound around his wrists and ankles.
I watched him for the entire feast, watched him with my heart in my throat as he flew and tumbled with the other acrobats on the floor, watched him as he moved with feral grace through the crowds of guests, leaving laughter in his wake. I watched him as he danced the wild dances of the dragon festival, as he donned the shaggy red and gold leggings of the dragon and took up the snapping, magnificent head. The dragon snaked over the floor, chasing after the ornamented pearl, and my eyes followed it, and I could not look away.
I did not retire until the feast was done, and though I felt my father's ire I did not care. Strangeness crept through my blood, and I hurried through the halls towards my rooms only to turn a blind corner and find my eyes meeting those dark ones again.
I could do nothing, frozen within my shell of silk, and he looked his fill at me as I had at him. And then he smiled, and reached out to touch my face- and that freed me, and I ran all the way back to my rooms, past the guards at their posts beside my door.
I left my silks in a brilliantly-colored puddle on my floor, and lay panting on my bed, staring blankly into the ceiling. What was this strange feeling? What power did he have that held me prisoner, that made me forget everything else in my hunger to look at him? Even now, I could see him before my eyes, as if he had formed from the shadows in my room and in my mind- his dark, straight hair that only just brushed his bare shoulders, the loose silk pants, and inside that fine hawk's face, his laughing eyes. I could see him as he walked towards me, bare feet silent on the polished floor, I could see him as he knelt beside me, and took my hand- I had opened my mouth, but he lay a finger across it for silence, and smiled, and then pulled me gently but insistently to my feet, and across the floor. Not to the door, but to the wall, and he cut through the paper with a knife drawn from his belt and drew me into the empty hallway beyond.
And then we were rushing through the back corridors of the palace, that I had never known existed, and then we burst out, into the open air. The sky was a glory of stars and darkness, and I gaped to see it so huge above me. I was certain that it must go on forever, in that one moment- and then I caught my foot on a stone in the path. But he set me back on my feet, and I looked down at the city brilliant with lights and the sounds of joyful music and celebration below.
No one remarked on us as we reached the celebration, although many called out greetings and good wishes for the holiday. We pressed through milling crowds of people celebrating, past vendors and food sellers in the busy streets, with everything lit by the glowing flicker of a thousand lanterns in paper shades. Here a young piper played a lilting melody, accompanied by the irresistible beat of the drum, and the acrobat pulled me into a fast and furious dance, one so entirely different from the formal movements of the court dances I was used to that I was immediately lost. But he dragged me through the steps, and laughed when I stepped on his feet, and laughed at my annoyance over feeling clumsy, until I smiled back at him as he held me close and twirled me around in a dizzying whirlwind.
And then we were in the crowd again, stopping only long enough to watch a sword-swallower pull a length of shining steel from his mouth, and a pair of jugglers sheeted in sweat who passed fire back and forth under their legs and behind their backs, faster and faster, until the orange brilliance of it because a waterfall between them.
We were just passing a brightly lit square when someone raised the beaded ball and shook it in the air, shrilling for someone to dance the part of the dragon. I shook my head at my escort and guide, but he just smiled, then sat me down and strapped the shaggy trappings to my legs over my silk pants, and tied his own, then placed my hands firmly on his narrow hips and threw the blanket of the dragon over me. We whirled insanely around that square, a wild dragon chasing the ornamented pearl, snapping and leaping in circles, darting up and down. I clung to his waist and tried to keep up, my hair swinging around my face and shoulders, unable to see anything around me but flashes of color and light, and unable to let go lest I go sprawling on the hard stones of the street. It was insane, and wonderful, and I laughed even as I cursed him. I felt as if some madness had come over me, but I did not care. I was giddy with the freedom, and I stomped my feet as the fierce hind-end of the dragon ought, and roared, I who had never raised my voice above a soft murmur.
Finally the pearl was caught, and the head of the dragon threw it off, and laughed when I rounded on him. His hair was damp with sweat, as was mine, but he did not seem to care. And when I would have yelled at him, he pulled me close, leaned me backwards and silenced me with a kiss. This was perhaps the strangest thing yet in a night full of strangeness, and I had never been kissed before. It was warm, and sweet, and brief, because he set me back on my feet when I would have collapsed on the spot, and pulled me to the nearest food seller to fill my hands and mouth with the sweet cakes that were baked and eaten for luck only during the dragon festival.
We ended up on a low stone wall outside a park overgrown with bamboo trees and wildflowers, somewhat apart from the revelry of the festival, dim and well away from the lights. I imitated him and licked the sugar from my fingertips, savoring the taste for a moment. Nothing made in the palace had ever been so sweet or so light, nor had I ever felt so alive, so wonderful and free. I smiled at my liberator, and framed words of thanks for this, the best night of my life. In reply, he leaned forward and kissed me again- but this was not the same as the first, it was gentle, and lingering, and my heart shuddered to a stop before it began pounding again, blotting out the drums and shouts of the festival with the roaring of my blood in my ears. Something woke within me, and stirred, and did not abate at all when he drew back. I could not look away from his eyes, but he turned from me with a smile, as if he would let it all go to fade into nothing.
And perhaps that would have been the end of it all, but I reached for him and brought his face back around to mine, and my hand of its own accord slid across his bare chest, soft and sleek under my hand, and I kissed him as he had me. He whispered my name against my lips, which I had not realized he knew, and his arms slid around my back, holding me close against him. He felt like I had always thought a dragon would, hot and smooth as silk, and thrumming under my hand with a force his body could not contain.
He tumbled us both off the wall and into the tall grass, and I landed on top of him and pulled back long enough to look at him, looking back at me. There was amusement there, and a sincerity that shocked me to my core. But he would not reach for me, only look. He left the reaching to me, and I was glad of it, and glad when he guided my lips to the junction of his neck and shoulder. Glad when he kissed me again, and slid my silk robe from my shoulders to reach more of my skin. He splayed his fingers over my ribs, and muffled my laughter with his mouth, and we moved together in a harmony older than any land, and greater, with the bamboo leaves framing the brilliant stars above, and the sounds of the dragon's festival filling the night air.
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Our parting was a brief one, without the lingering regret that might have poisoned the memory of it, that might have tainted whatever it was that we shared on that single night. I returned to the palace as the dawn's light brightened the edges of the sky, my body sore and aching, but with joy, with an undeniable lightness in my step, and a smile full of secrets. I would tell no one where I had been, not my father or the men he sent to ask me, not the priests or the doctors or the guards under who's watch I had been stolen. Even when my belly swelled with a new life, my father's rage could not sway me from my silence.
I had no name to offer him, in any case, even had I desired to give him a reply. Finally he raged himself to silence, and would no longer even look at me. But I did not care. I could feel a new life growing under my heart, and I was content. Content with the second heart that beat inside me, content with the fate that I myself had prophesied for my child. I would take no other man, I knew, for there could be no other like him. The memory of that one night would hold me for the rest of my days, would sustain me as I raised my son to be the king of all men, an emperor in truth. I would tell him that his father was a dragon, and he would grow fierce and strong, and rule all the lands that lay beneath the sun.