Milerna pulled the comb through her hair as she stared mutely at her reflection. The voluminous champagne curls slid like silk between its teeth. The young Queen tugged subconsciously on the large bow on the front of her nightdress. It was tonight. It was tonight she truly would become a married woman. But she still wasn't sure if she was ready for it; especially not with Dryden. Dryden. The thought of him did not repulse her as it had. In fact it conjured up the image of a pleasant carefree existence for her. She'd passed all of her medical exams and was awaiting her application to the Bazram Ladies Institute for the Study of Medicine and the Sciences, to be filled, but she would never have even been given the time to sit the exams had Dryden not taken complete control. She knew how much it had taken out of him and did her best to make it up to him. One of the fondest of these times was when she used her expertise to give him a massage. After a few minutes under her hands, he'd fallen asleep; his mouth open, hair mussed and glasses hanging off his nose. It was that night Milerna had realised that the sight of him, even in such a comical position, made her feel something she'd never really experienced before. She'd grown fond of him and voluntarily at that. He worked so hard to keep her happy and all she'd done was smile at him now and again and spend some evenings in his company. They'd once gone for a picnic after touring the new building projects underway. It had been a beautiful day, without a cloud in the sky, birds singing and the wind blowing just a bit. They'd sat down on the edge of a knoll and read together, talked and ate. That was the day she kissed him.
Dryden had been laughing at Milerna's disgust for the tuna sandwiches and simply smiled at her for a moment. She blushed a little under his gaze. Dryden was always so intent when he did that. Besides she would let him away with it this time as he had consented to wearing something other than his olive coat. He leant towards her slowly, her head bent in submission. She caught the movement through the corner of her eye. Interpreting it as an advance, she began to get flustered and doing the only thing she understood how to do at that moment, she went the rest of the way and pecked him on the lips. Ducking her head as she moved back Milerna felt a strange heat in her cheeks. She'd never felt any of this with Allen. Dryden didn't say or do anything, until Milerna looked back up at him. Her face darkened several shades when she found he was staring at her dumbfounded. His hand was extended to the plate of sandwiches in front of her. He'd been reaching for one of them…not trying to kiss her. His face relaxed slightly and he chuckled.
"If you wanted a kiss…" He returned her gesture, closing the distance between them. "…you only had to ask" He lightly pushed his lips against hers and retreated to his sandwich. Looking out across the city, Dryden's brow knitted against the glare of the sun as he munched away with that big jaw of his. His pretty young wife was silent with shock. Not at the kiss he'd given her, but at the kiss she'd given him.
Milerna was snapped back from her thoughts by a knock at the door. She jumped, startled, dropping her comb as she did so. Her sister Eries stood in the doorway, a concerned frown marring her elegant features. She travelled across the room, picking up the utensil and handed it to her sister. She sat down on the stool next to Milerna and smoothed out her hair.
"Milerna dear?"
The young woman turned her attention trying vainly to disguise her nervousness. The older sibling smiled softly and cajolingly.
"I know mother would be very proud of you. You're such a beautiful girl and Dryden's a lucky man. However you are a lucky girl to have him. I know you know that"
Milerna couldn't argue there. Dryden was one in a million. A very strange yet equally alluring person, who irritated and comforted her, mystified and reassured her…who she despised and liked with the same passion. She nodded silently. However even though she'd become comfortable with him, and perhaps even feel something for him, she knew she wasn't ready to be bedded by him.
Eries frowned. Her tone was quieter but a little sharper this time. "Milerna, please at least attempt to look a little happier. You mustn't disappoint Dryden. You owe him an awful lot. Asturia is depending on you to keep him in Palas and satisfied. It's your duty as his wife and foremost as Queen."
Milerna simply nodded still not speaking. She didn't trust her voice. Her sister patted her hand lightly and in her own way, reassuringly. Picking up a long overly ornate dressing gown, she helped Milerna into it. It's fuchsia pink set off the slight constant blush in Milerna's cheeks as her platinum tresses spilled delicately over her shoulders. She wore a light gloss on her lips and was smothered in musk of wild flowers. The maids had been thorough in preparing her for her husband. She could only imagine how happy he was, well at least one of them was.
The journey down the corridors with the formal procession escaped the young Queen's attention. Even the long train of her nightgown and overcoat did not weigh heavy on her. She was somewhat detached from her own body, only aware of her heart thundering in a rhythm she didn't understand, nor was familiar with. This was a leap that she wasn't sure she was ready for and especially with Dryden. She'd only recently become comfortable with him as a friend and perhaps a husband a little, but to be fully explored and invaded by him was another matter. Why didn't it seem such a drastic idea if it had been with Allen? Milerna's mind replaced Allen as her husband in the hope of calming her. Her heart was still slamming, but the images of Allen, wearing the night-robe of the King, his warm handsome smile and soft blonde hair didn't relax her any. If anything it made her more nervous. Allen always had perfection and was surrounded by beautiful women. Milerna knew Allen wasn't an intentional playboy, or was out to see how many women he could bed. He was unsure, and lonely, deluding himself and aching to be loved. Much like Dryden she thought idly, her mind refusing to stray from the subject for any length of time.
Finally reaching the huge royal doorway, the procession stopped and two footmen opened the large double doors. Milerna walked forward, her calm doll-like exterior hiding the raging emotions inside her. Many of Asturia's highest officials were gathered around her Regent, turning and bowing to her as she approached her husband. He stood there, a small gentle and appreciative smile curving the edges of his broad mouth. He wore an emerald green robe, embroidered with gold silk thread in the design of leaves and ivy. It was a great surprise as she had expected him to wear the Royal Asturian emblem and the colour of the Heavenly Knights' as he was now their leader. Milerna's own outer gown was heavy sapphire with the sacred dragon, defender of Palas sewn across the back. It held the sphere of cerise in its jaws, as did the statue in the harbour. The neck of her fuscia coat beneath protruded only just, but Dryden felt himself marvelling at how beautiful she looked and smelt even under all those layers. His wife too was taken by the appearance of her husband. He was well groomed, his hair sleek and hanging in refined locks rather than its normal frazzled waviness.
The elderly priest with his staff and high hat, stepped forward, blessing them in an ancient tongue as he raised his arms. The procession turned to bow silently in reverence, but all Milerna could hear was her pulse pounding in her head. The royal gathering slowly made its way from the room. Eries closed the double doors over and smiled at her sister as she left. Milerna wrung her hands together as two maids led her into the small private suite, which she supposed was the Queen's privy chamber. They delicately helped the princess off with her outer coats and prepared her for bed. She could smell a sweet candied aroma wafting into the room and was terrified. She wanted to keep all of her garments on, not take them off. However her limbs wouldn't move to swat away the maid, who smoothed her hair and pulled at the nightdress so that it sat off her shoulders showing off her slender neck.
In a moment she was pushed from the lavish room, back into the bedroom, where her husband stood in his own silken night robe. The maids curtsied and exited the room. Dryden looked even more awkward than she did. He knew exactly what he was going to have to do tonight. The idea was heavenly, but at the same time crushing. There she stood, looking so delicious he felt he could just devour her, but at the same time, so hopelessly afraid he felt he might be sick at himself. His body was saying go, but his heart was stopping him. How could he subject the woman he loved…to…to…rape? (To put it into a poetically challenged phrase.) It was wrong and he wouldn't allow himself to do that. It was not what he had imagined their first night to be and it was not what he wanted. He looked at her glumly, as her own expression changed from panic to confusion. There was a flock of vultures standing right outside their door, waiting to hear the sounds of pleasure in order to satisfy their political ambitions. How could he fool them? Immediately an immature and downright laughable idea penetrated his mind and he smiled cockily across the huge bed at his shaken wife. The expression of utter horror came over her face.
"Dryden?" She spoke shakily, those violet eyes wide with worry.
King Dryden Fassa climbed atop their grand four-poster, canopy lined queen sized bed and began to jump up and down like a five year old. His nightshirt flapped around his shins, giving his legs a ridiculously scarecrow like appearance. Milerna eyebrow cocked in amused confusion. Her husband clasped his hands together in a feminine manner and did the worst impression of a woman she had ever heard.
"Ooooh! Dryden, You're so masculine and manly!" His wife shot him a venomous stare. She thought they were both past the stage of getting at each other's throats. Was this his idea of a romantic evening? And was she going to put up with this for the rest of her married life? Her serious look stopped Dryden as he bounced. He surveyed her breathlessly. What a naïve child! He motioned towards the door urgently and silently. Milerna was now thoroughly confused by her Regent's behaviour, but turned to look in the indicated direction anyway. Beneath the double doors, through a gap between the wood and the floor, several pairs of shoes could be seen, barely casting shadows. They were listening in?! Milerna felt the steam rising to her cheeks. Couldn't they appreciate how amazingly difficult this was going to be? Her gaze returned forlornly to Dryden's expectant eyes. He raised an eyebrow cockily and offered her his hand. Yet another one of Dryden of Asturia's master plans, she supposed, cautiously letting her own mischievous streak show.
Taking his outstretched hand, she, in a very ladylike manner, stepped up upon the bed as though it were a formal podium. Then they bounced. She had to stifle a giggle at the thought of the King and Queen of one of the most highly respected kingdoms on Gaia, jumping up and down on their wedding bed. Her mother and father would turn in their graves! Dryden smiled at her brightly, letting go of her for a moment to throw his hand to his forehead in a swooning manner.
"Dryden! I've never known a man to be so muscular and strong!" The sound of his voice squeaking unsteadily in a forced soprano was enough to make her wet herself! But if he was going to make fun of her, she could do it right back.
"And Milerna…" She growled lowly, pushing her voice back into her adenoids "I've never met a woman as…as…limber as you!"
Dryden's mouth dropped as he peered over his spectacles at her. He was surprised to say the least! Perhaps she wasn't quite as naïve as he'd first thought. She returned his expression with a smug smile of her own. Pulling her to him, he whispered in her ear.
"Well that wasn't particularly princess-ly of you." She could hear the gentle humour that characterised his voice oh so well and felt the want to sudden melt against him. The smell of pine and Fanelian tobacco was strong but oddly enticing and Milerna felt strangely guilty by it. She had deprived Dryden of her love for so long and always kept him at arms length. Even though she didn't feel ready to sleep with him yet, she knew she had to, not only for Asturia's sake but for Dryden's too. Her mother had been younger than her when she had consumed her marriage. Maybe she could too.
Dryden pulled away and motioned for her to stop jumping. He held a long thin finger to his lips and let them curl suggestively. Helping his wife from the bed quietly, he crept slowly towards the door. Milerna's hand flew to her mouth in order to silence the merry laughter she felt climbing her throat. He reached the door and in a flurry of energy opened it, to find the assembly of ministers and dukes looking very un-lordly as they crouched, straining to hear through the door. Each with a red blush brushed across their cheeks they bowed and slunk away, embarrassed to have been caught out. The look on the King's face was magnificent. Her stood with more position than his normally easy-going nature professed and stared over his small glasses at each of the lords until they dissipated from the corridor. With a smart slam he closed the door, making the message clear to all involved that they did not mean to be disturbed.
The room fell absolutely silent. Nervous tension began to creep back into Milerna's heart as she struggled to grasp the conviction she'd held only moments earlier. He looked up at her, his hand still clutching the knob, as if trying to decide what to do. Those rich viridian green eyes looked tortured, and she knew what by. With a sigh he dropped his hand and walked towards his small private room. Milerna was hypersensitive to everything he did. And felt a strange emptiness as he left the room.
Dryden ran a long smooth hand over his face. Things were not going according to plan. He didn't want to push this on her, but damn it, if they were ever going to make this marriage work then something would have to happen. He loved her too much to see her suffer because of him, the thought wouldn't leave him alone. With an action that matched the wrenching in his heart, he turned abruptly towards the door, but as he slumped against the frame his body became very tense. In a surprised expression that wasn't in the least Drydenesque, he stared across the room towards the bed. Milerna Sara Aston Fassa, his estranged wife of three years, the platinum blonde beauty who haunted his every dream; sat under the confines of the heavy quilt, the sheets tucked beneath her arms and her shoulders bear. Her eyes were fixed on him; a strange steel and pride burning in them.
"My King" She spoke, the barest hint of nervousness audible in her voice. "Will you come to bed?"
Dryden couldn't move. He must be dreaming. That's it; he fell asleep. He must have fallen asleep and he would wake up any moment to find himself back aboard his airship, with a book in his lap and his glasses on the end of his nose. But as the moments ticked by he found she was still looking at him, the worry beginning to creep into her eyes. His own gaze shifted across the room, his soul now debating with his heart and his head. One shouted for him to stop, while the other pleaded him on.
"Milerna" He said breathlessly, sitting at a chair beside the window. "Are, you sure you wont regret this?" His knuckles were turning white with the tension he felt, holding him upright. "You might try to jump out a window or something again" He knew he'd said the wrong thing the moment it left his tongue, but Dryden's humour seemed to be suitable for any situation. Milerna's face seemed to relax a little. She could see how much this was eating away at him. His restraint was all but keeping him away from her. She could not deny him any longer. For his sake…and her own. Maybe Dryden could fill this hole in her. Maybe his love had been all she had needed all along, she was sure it was what Asturia needed.
Her voice was less urgent, softer and quieter. "I wont ask you again my husband.
Milerna's eyes opened briefly before flitting closed again. A warm ray of sunlight warmed her left hand as it stretched out onto the bed covers beside her. She jumped with a start when she remembered that this was not her bed. The momentary panic subsided with the realisation of all that had transpired last night. Thoughts raced about her head wildly. Filing them in correct order, Dryden moaned lightly in his slumber next to her. Turning her head slightly she eyed his back as he slept across the bed from her. He was snoring ever so slightly and seemed to be in a deeper sleep than the usual dark circles beneath his eyes suggested was normal for him. He was not what she had expected at all.
She had expected a bony, thin waif of a man, with stork like legs and an utterly repulsive body. There seemed to be no other reason for his dress code, unless to cover his less handsome features. However she'd been incredibly wrong. He was slender, bronzed with a hairy chest and arms. He was by no means an Adonis, but far more beautiful than she'd ever imagined. All the fears she had had, had been erased. He was gentle and passionate, warm and serious. Milerna had wept as he fell asleep in her arms. She'd felt the loneliness and longing radiate from him through every kiss and caress. It was no longer about her. Did it matter if she really loved him or held a deep affection? He had satisfied her as a husband and she hopefully as his wife. The idea of being married to the man for the rest of her life or his, didn't seemed such an arduous task. Love was something she wasn't sure about, but care…she had plenty of care for him.
After a few moments of contemplation, Milerna wriggled over, wrapping her arms around his torso, feeling the warmth of his chest and the soft sensation of the hair that adorned it against her arm. He seemed to sigh silently. To look upon the pair no one could have guessed the animosity they had felt towards one another only months before. Her champagne tresses, against his dark russet waves on the white of the pillowcase, seemed to blend so well as they both drifted in a light slumber.