They carried on in relative silence. There was nothing to say. Neither them were going to concede their views.
The bare branches rustled in the wind. A subcutaneous chill coursed through Irene, the frigid temperatures agitated her draconic side. Food tasted like sand, wakefulness haunted her nights, and the only sensation she could feel was the cold, forcing her to dress garishly in layer after layer. If only she could hibernate through the unforgiving winter months, but she was human. Well, she intended to continue as a human even as the possibility drifted further past the horizon.
Seven days since fate had strung Irene and Anna together once again, she didn't know how much longer she could maintain this facade, and Anna had not brought up the question that must be looming in her mind. She must know, Irene had metamorphosed into something wretched, depraved, monstrous in Anna's absence.
"It's still me! I'm Irene, your wife, remember?!"
Brutus looked Irene up and down with a resentful sneer, "As if I would ever fornicate with such a horrid creature; As if I would engage in such debauchery."
"But you have," there was no point in arguing his point of view was set, "I'm carrying your child,"that was evidence even he could not disregard; it was sufficient enough to allow here people to rise up, certainly they would not allow for this to continue. Belserion was a kind and benevolent ruler, better than most, and he was a dragon. Belserion was a dragon. He was a beloved ruler. Irene was not Ancologia, she would not fall prey to baser instincts, her people knew this and would not follow a foreigner. Brutus was not even truly her husband yet, he had no true claim, no true power.
Brutus broke into a fit of cackles at her claim, "Look the fucking snake thinks we will believe the lies that slip off her tongue," the corridor erupted in a fearsome roar of laughter. How? "Get her out of my sight," he commanded the soldiers, her soldiers, roughly holding her in place. Dread sunk through her at a sickening pace, they complied, frantic to gain any sort of purchase Irene scoured the room for a sympathetic face.
Irene glanced into the pool of water before washing up, nothing felt real, the face looking back at her did not feel like her own. When her hands touched her face, gliding over smooth skin instead the rough scales she had long since become accustomed to, she was brought a small measure of comfort.
Fish were roasting over a crackling fire in the distance. The sun had long since set, an owl called in the distance, closer she could hear Anna setting up camp. When was the last time Irene had actually used such amenities? It wasn't as if she could feel anymore.
He wasn't much to look at, but the future of her people was a stake.
Irene held out her hand,"It's nice to met you". The impending assault from the western dragons had pushed up her deadline, but an arranged marriage was always in her future. A political alliance with a distinguished general would prove useful.
He cupped her hand in his and brought it to his lips, "It's a pleasure to meet you, your majesty," he seemed completely devoid of manners; what made him think he had the right to touch her so intimately. The brute continued to caress her hand, arm, anything he thought he could get his hands on without crossing a line, "I've never encountered anything as lovely as you," if he thought flattery would get him anywhere Brutus was sorely mistaken.
Irene wished that there was time to find a more suitable option. Perhaps a faraway prince, the refined son of a diplomat, an intelligent merchant. Of course, none of them would be Anna, but that was neither here nor there; Irene had a duty, an obligation, to her people and the crown to carry on the Belserion line.
Brutus would have to do. Irene could learn to love him or at least tolerate having him by her side. He was loyal, he would have his use, and he would provide an heir that should be enough. Irene would need loyalty when they finally made their move against the western dragons. Brutus seemed nothing if not loyal and that was all that the role demanded.
Irene fed the fire. She may not need it anymore but Anna certainly did. Irene focused on Anna's slow steady breathing, over the crackling of the fire, behind her; she was still here, four hundred years later and she was really here, alive. She wondered if Anna knew, Irene would have to set up her her sleeping roll soon, so it appeared that she actually rested. There was still time, Irene had nothing if not time, so she prodded at the embers some more.
"I don't remember you being this interested in fire," Anna was awake? She should have picked up on that; when was the last time she had let down her guard like that?
"It's cold," was Irene always this inarticulate? Perhaps isolation had dulled her more than previously thought.
"Then come over here," Anna tugged lightly at her wrist. Before she knew it Irene was right at her side. There would be no sleep for her tonight. As Anna fell asleep beside her Irene gazed up at the stars until they faded out of existence.