Nixiesocean: I just checked my stats. Thank you, Scoutcraft Piratess for adding me to The Enchanted Chronicles of the Whiney, Bratty Princesses! And thank you, Da Vinci at Work for adding me to Mermaid Tales and Faerie Dust. It's a major compliment to be added to your c2 groups! Thanks!
Rush of Waves: So you win! Sorry! I really didn't think of it as a cliffie… that's all.
Scoutcraft Piratess: Um… I didn't think so… (yawn) but I'm starting to think I have insomnia! After, my rest time isn't all that "restful" (sorry about redundancy).
Chapter 18: Ilona's Return
Rain… rain meant something. Bamien couldn't think of it. Something important about rain. What was it? Something… Cyrun yawned in his arms. She curled tighter into him. He forgot his problems and put his head back onto hers. Her hair smelled like rain. His body wouldn't let him sleep until he found out what it meant. He sighed and crawled out of bed. Cyrun slept on.
He pulled a book off the shelf. A Study on Dragons it was titled. He flipped open the book, a drawing of a dragon breathing fire. It looked like a red one; Asnarinith was a red dragon. He flipped further back until he saw a chapter heading. Silver Dragons: The Great Mystery. He flipped the next page. He read.
"… silver dragons, the rarest and most peaceful of the race of dragons, are still a mystery, even after the humans the hundreds of thousands of years humans have lived with them. They are aloof separate and rarely come into contact with those outside their sect." All this, Bamien already knew. His mind was slowly becoming more human, something he couldn't bear. His eyes scanned the page. "Female silvers are often recognized by their distinctly larger size. Males, often smaller and built with denser muscles, are the caretakers of the dragonets. A female…" Bamien scanned further down. At the end, he found what he was looking for.
"Silver dragons, unlike most other dragons, don't smell of brimstone. Draco Silveris smell of fresh rain."
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The morning light wasn't even through the window when I was woken. I had only gotten to sleep last night with a few cups of tea laced with liquor. The night before one's wedding is normally full festivities. It was, to the extreme. Since the nobles wouldn't be in the chapel with us, they had decided on a lavish party before and after. Without even a month or two of planning, the cook had made a lavish five-layer cake. It had small roses, delicate (again to the extreme).
On the top was a female dressed in plate and mail armor, me, obviously, with a man in king's robes, Lance. I noticed with a smile, I was next to him, not slightly behind. The cook had obviously heard the rumors and responded with an extravagant cake. The head cook and any cooking staff that helped immediately got a thirty gold-piece bonus (the queen's doing, not mine).
I put on my dress early that morning (my wedding was to take place at noon, when the sun was at its height. There was much debate as to whether or not it should take place at moonrise, the Goddess' time, but after consulting a priestess, it was decided noon). I spun in front of the tri-fold mirror.
For once, I didn't object to a corset. The dress, a silvery-white (another, less conspicuous, hint at my knighthood) fabric, clung to me like a second skin. It was dotted with small silk flowers and embroidery-vines. I smiled. I was beautiful without any jester's make-up or my hair done. The neckline was modest, but still showed some upper-chest. The sleeves were wide, like angel's wings, and trailed off when I spun in a circle. The dress had a train of about three to four feet. The outer-most piece of lace was finely detailed, flowered, like everything else. Another amazing fact was that, I didn't care I was covered in lace and flowers.
I was getting married after all!
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Cyrun was still asleep and I was awake, and fretting. Silver dragons, to humans, smell like rain? Why, then, did they smell each other as rain? They were humans, yes, but they had been silvers. Shouldn't they smell like humans?
As he fretted, Cyrun blearily awoke. "Bamien, stop worrying." She mumbled.
His head turned. "How…?" He asked.
"You were worrying?" She asked, sitting up.
"Yes, I was." He said. "Tell me my emotion." He thought of Asnarinith.
She bent over, clutching her head. "Hate!" She cried. "Goddess! Hate!"
He thought of her, her eyes, her face and her personality. She lay back on the pillows. "Stop it, Bamien, this is messing me up." She mumbled. She sat back up. She blushed. "I didn't know you loved me that much…"
Confused, Bamien tried his mind-trick again. He found her mind, along with the frenzied ones of the servants, and slowly began relaxing. "Please, stop." She whispered. Her eyes dropped heavily. They sprung open and he lost his grip on her mind. "Bamien… was that you?"
He realized he hadn't thought it reality. "Yes…"
"Do you know what this means, love?" She asked, coming to the conclusion.
"What?" As he spoke, she slipped out of bed to come sit next to him, wrapping her arms around him.
She spoke softly, as if she spoke to loud, the secret would be out. "We're not completely lost."
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I was getting my things put on. It was two hours' or so until noon, and Goddess, I can't wait. My maids are twittering about the beauty of the soon-to-be princess. All I heard was gibberish. After all, they spoke in high voices unattainable by men, and spoke twenty times as fast! All I ever caught included "beauty" and "princess" or "Lady Katharine". In my mind's eye, I saw flashing pictures of her, her face in under a helmet, and her in a dress. Somehow, she fitted the armor better. It was more her.
But, who really cared. I am marrying my love (and it isn't a terrible marriage…). I wanted to get a kiss in beforehand, but I wasn't allowed to see her until she came into the chapel. Stupid customs.
Before long, I was in the chapel and waiting for her. The few number of people (including Cyrun, Bamien and Prince Brennin) waiting silenced. I turned around to face my soon-to-be bride.
She was beautiful. Even that was an understatement. There are no words to describe the image she projected. I don't think she realized her true beauty until today. The dress was a mix of silver and white. It swayed with her hips (which I was not staring at) and trailed behind about three or four feet. The base of her neck had a simple locket with a heart on it. Nothing more.
She reached the altar, my beautiful princess, reached for my hand. She was calm, but also a little nervous I noted. I kissed her cheek and the wedding commenced.
I remember little about that ceremony. It was a blur, coming back into focus when we walked back out, rings of simple silver on our fingers. I do believe her lips never tasted so sweet.
Our banquet was a blur also. Until, of course, our solemnity was disrupted by a trumpet's blare. I remember it clearly. My new wife and I were sitting at the table, surrounded by joyful parents and drunk nobles. The messenger entered and quietly made his way to our table. He was externally fighting whether to disrupt my celebration, I guessed, because his eyes went from my father to me and back again. It was annoying.
"Deliver the message aloud, please." I said.
He trembled. "Sir Devyn and Princess Ilona have returned."
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I gasped. Happily, I should add. I was worried for the princess. She was my sister-in-law now after all.
"Bring her in." I heard my husband's (how I love the word!) father say. "We shall meet her and her rescuer in the private audience chamber. Come along, Lance." He paused. "And you, Lady-, daughter." I didn't respond immediately. My father nudged my and angled his head toward the king. My father-in-law. I jumped up and followed Lance's back.
We entered a small room set up with six chairs. Princess Ilona, my new sister, sat in a chair, glaring across the room at a man. He was easily twice her age. Ilona was, what, sixteen, seventeen? "Ilona!" Lance said, running to hug her.
She shoved him off. "How dare you!" She yelled. She looked at her father. "And you! Giving me away like some prize!" I walked up. "Princess Ilona." I said quietly. "I understand your anger perfectly well." I said. "Would you like to take a separate room and talk with me and your mother?"
"Lady Katharine?" She asked. "I had heard about you. I recognize your voice, you're Sir Eric are you not?"
"I am." I said. "And your new sister. Please, come, let us talk away from the dithering men." I winked,
When my sister's (how odd the word! I've never had a sister before…) mother tried to follow us; Ilona threw back her head to speak. "Just Katharine and I, Mother." The queen stopped dead her tracks. She looked like she was going to cry.
"I'm sorry," I said sincerely. We entered a smaller, side room. Ilona sat down. "Now, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" She exploded. "They expect me to marry a guy twice my age!"
"Oh." I said. "You're not fond of him, I expect."
"Far from it! He's an annoying jerk!" She replied. "If I had known such a crucial fact, I would've stayed with Asnarinith!" I hugged her.
I grinned maliciously. "Want to know a plan to get out of this wretched marriage?"
"Tell me! Anything!" She cried.
I winked. "Flirt with another man."
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I sat dumbfounded. "Flirt with another man? Katharine, I don't think you understand-"
She patted my shoulder. "I understand perfectly. Listen, I was engaged to some unknown person since I can remember, because my mother wanted it. I tried to get out of it, by flirting. I'll level with you, I was dreadful at it!" I hugged her. "You're better at than I'll ever be, for two reasons. Your whole life, you've openly been a woman, me I've masqueraded as a man for a long time. Two, you're not yet married and can't be pinned down with adultery."
"You're a genius!" I squealed. "But how… and who?"
"Your parents already know plan B. I know who it is too." She winked "You'll find out as soon as-"
Someone opened the door, the old man Ilona was to "marry". "Princess, your parents request you back in the main room." He looked at me suspiciously.
"She'll be right there." Katharine replied. "Now, leave us." He glared and shut the door. "Name?"
"Sir Devyn, a devil of a man." I said. "Please, don't let them marry me to him!" I was starting to cry.
"Sister of my husband, I wouldn't dream of it."
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We reentered the private meeting chamber. I heard Ilona grumble. I wished I didn't know why they were getting married, that I had been in on it. Maybe this wasn't the best idea…
"Ilona, dear, we know you don't wish to marry, but, please, honey, we promised. We thought you'd be okay with it, after all look at Lady Serena and Sir Gavin!" The king said. Ilona moved toward, slyly, to the door. I silently applauded her discretion.
"Now, in a few years, you'll thank us for such a good marriage. Sir Devyn is a good man!" the queen added.
"I refuse, beyond any recognition to marry that monster." She pointed at the old knight. She yanked open the door and stormed out. She ran blindly, not really following any course. No one followed her, so I causally walked out, following her, but not really.
The queen was crying and the king trying to make amends with Sir Devyn. Lance was comforting his mother, my mother now. I turned down the same hallway. As I neared the next corner, I heard voices, Ilona's and another's.
"What's wrong, princess?" A man's voice gently asked.
Ilona was in tears. "They- they- they want me to marry this wretched old man!"
"Was he your rescuer, Princess Ilona?"
"Y-yes!" She said, tearing up again. I heard a burst of tears.
"How old is he?" The man said. I had a hard time placing the voice.
"I- I don't know. Thirty something." She said quietly.
"Thirty-something?" He asked. He mumbled something to the weeping princess.
"I'm seventeen." She said. "I can't be wed yet!"
"Such is the life of royalty, princess. I'm sorry." He said.
"What's your name?" Ilona asked.
"Prince Brennin of Auszin and Guen, princess. I'm visiting." He whispered.
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He smelled wonderful! Unlike the smelly Sir Devyn. I couldn't help but be calmed. He comforted me. I liked this man. My head was buried in his chest. My frenzied breathing slowed to a normal pace as his chest vibrated. He spoke in soft, caring tones. Only Lance had shown such kindness.
I knew, as a princess, that my duty was to marry for Furde's power, but I couldn't bring myself to be wed to Sir Devyn. The man who held me rubbed my back, calming me more. I was almost in a perfect state of harmony. Except for the nagging feeling in the back of my mind, that I couldn't do anything. I would be wed to Sir Devyn and nothing I could do would change that fact.
"What's your name?" I mumbled into his chest.
"Prince Brennin of Auszin and Guen, princess. I'm visiting." He said.
I sprung back. I had been hugging another royal? I coughed. "I'm sorry, prince. Propriety forbids such intimate contact."
"And yet only my title says that. Why isn't a man allowed to comfort a weeping woman?" He asked wisely.
"I- I don't know, prince. But if my parents found us, I'd be flayed alive!"
He came closer. I felt his breath. I didn't move away. "Princess, I'm royalty." He kissed my forehead. "If you ever want another option for marriage, I'm unmarried." He left.
Had he just proposed? He didn't even know me? And yet, I liked this man. He was kind, caring and loveable. He comforted me easily, and had no problem with intimate contact.
I liked this man, Prince Brennin.