Galian rose early that morning.
The nights leading up to the dragon's arrival she had slept soundly but woken up tired and she thought that was unfair when it came down to it. There was no God she could complain to. The Gods had once been a prominent part of Dim-Eden but that had been in the early years. The Elves had always been religious, Erimon himself valued discovery and strength over faith, Galian herself understood how believing in something divine could be a comfort to people. When bad things happened there would be penance, when good things happened it was because you had donated the proper amount to the temple of whatever God it happened to be. Now the Gods were nothing more than punchlines or fodder for spite, the one on Galian's mind was Gaire, the trickster God, though that morning she had no reason to spite him because she actually felt restored.
She roamed the main hall studying the statues built into chambers along the walls by the pillars. She'd seen them before, but with fresh eyes she saw things she'd never seen before. Most of the carvings were of Erimon, standing up to the dragons, facing many on his own. Many lords had fantastical busts of themselves, Erimon wasn't immune to tall tales, but the people had seen him face the beasts, some more than once. When she came to the bust of the Elven King she sighed, it was a mystery why Erimon had kept that particular piece in plain view. He was depicted as feeble, too thin certainly to be a fighter, and he was unarmed, and there were no beasts for him to smite. There was a carving made of her, she hated it but Erimon insisted keeping it because he had helped in the making of it. She wondered what Larian would look like in stone, where his bust would go.
The Prince was with his lover at the lake. It was a much cooler day, much more like autumn. Larian loved the air in fall, the smells that filled his senses, and that morning it made him forget about the day before.
"I can't believe how big it is," Amlin said, that brought Larian out of his pleasant daydream and he chuckled, wondering what she meant. Then he remembered the dragon. "You really killed one in Grimsever?" She added.
"By myself yes, separated from my unit. It found me actually."
"Truly?" She was genuinely interested, he liked that about her, she didn't spend time with him because of his status, she liked him for who he was and it was reciprocated.
"A married couple actually. I was wandering for many days, had no food, made the mistake of eating eggs from an unfamiliar nest. I know what you're thinking, how could I not think twice about something so big? Well, when you've been without food for two days you don't take the time to distinguish."
"How did you defeat them? Surely not with just your sword."
"Not every battle requires brute force, sometimes you have to use your head."
"Oh?" She asked, listening attentively.
"Grimsever is so unbearably cold that anything that touches the water immediately freezes, anything, at all becomes ice."
He acted out the rest of the story to the best of his ability, moving as if he were truly reliving it.
"I ran, slid down the icy hillside. They followed me down. But! Before I fell any further, I reached over and grabbed onto a ledge, that was when my father and my unit found me, they damaged their wings and they fell into the ocean below. So perhaps I did not slay the beasts in the sense that you might think, but I certainly outsmarted them."
"Incredible."
"I'd never been happier to be in camp that night, I sat there, staring across the sea, wondering if I would find somebody like you when I returned."
He picked up a blooming wildflower and gave it to her with a kiss on the hand. She twirled it, the smile fixed on her face.
"And that's all true?"
"If I were to lie, I would've told you that I buried my sword in its heart."
"Good to know I have a dragon slayer looking out for me."
Larian bowed slightly, he'd been drinking again, after waking up on the street, but he wasn't hammered, just pleasantly buzzed and tingly. "I live to serve."
They kept going on their stroll aroudn the lake, there was something on Amlin's mind, Larian sensed it though in his mind he was floating on a cloud. When he pulled her close she looked away but he gently picked her chin up and gave her a kiss.
"What's wrong?" He asked.
"Nothing."
"If it was nothing you'd be dancing with me right now."
She allowed a bit of a laugh to come out. "I'm just nervous you'll say no to my question."
"Never assume the answer of a fool."
His answer made his brow furrow upon further thought but the sound of her laughter made him feel alright with it.
"I've arranged passage on a ship," she said. Larian had always loved the way she spoke, her voice had a deep sweetness to it, her words flowed like the notes of a song. He had to remember what she had said, had been too focused on how wonderful her voice made him feel.
"A ship?" He said aloud, trying to bring his mind back.
Amlin nodded, "To Ol'yen."
"You're going to the Crystal Island? Why?"
"I was hoping, to marry you there. And live there with you. Have children, maybe we'd get a dog." Larian could sense her embarrassment, and her apprehension. Her smile was to make herself feel more comfortable, to possibly make him look upon her more favorably, it wasn't necessary, he was deeply in love with her.
"And what would we do on Ol'yen?" He heard himself say, but he really wanted to say yes right away.
"I just told you, what I had in mind," he snapped out of it, wished he had said something else, but her hands found his face and she pulled him in close and embraced him.
"I want to save you from this place, you belong in peace, you belong in the places your mind takes you."
There was something anchoring him to the land, he had to stay, he had to get her to stay.
"My Mother is going to name me acting king."
"Let her find someone else. I love you, Larian. Not because of your title, but because I know you, I know your soul. This place is not for you."
He allowed her lips to touch his, but he was too lost in thought to touch hers.
"I love you too," he said, and it was the truth. He'd been with other women, the first when he was much younger, but Amlin was different, the way they made each other feel was special, in simple conversation, in bed, when he was away from her he longed for her to simply be there, and since the moment she'd met him, she'd found herself unworthy to even look upon him as a poor stable hand, but he'd spoken to her, the simple act of making eye contact with her made her feel like a real person, not the filth most people thought of when they thought of lesser occupations, lesser lives. To most she was an illiterate mutt who probably slept in shit, but Larian had taken the time to know her, at first for her beauty and body, and she desired him, but soon it was he who found himself unworthy of her, of her intellect among many things because she was educated and had read more books than he'd ever opened, her strength in the face of social damnation, he admired her for so many reasons.
"I..." He was having a difficult time expressing his feelings. His gaze went to Siladrin, if only none of the business with the dragon had ever happened. He had a hard time imagining what terror he'd put his mother through if he left without telling her, because if he told her, she would put him under lock and key to prevent such an arrangement. He didn't want to disappoint her, and though his father had long been distant, he wished to see him return alive. Would Amlin understand if he told her? Or would she look upon him with disdain if he told her he couldn't just so he wouldn't upset his mother, he was worried she would think him a child, an immature weakling, he kissed her once again.
"I'll think about it."
That was an okay answer in that moment, but she would expect him to go one way or another very soon. She gave him until tomorrow afternoon.
Morrigan was out among the corn, the scarecrows, and the potatoes. She was using the daylight to practice with her sword, and the privacy of the farm to make sure nobody could see her if she messed up. Her sword was short, old, and rusty. It had seen many years of use, it had seen the insides of goblins and orcs. Morrigan had excellent form with the blade, she had practiced often since she was a small girl. Leyden was watching her from the doorway, his arms crossed, a smile on his face. She did a spin move, a pirouette that Leyden hadn't taught her until she was thirteen. That was when she noticed him watching her, and she became self conscious, trying to think back to when she had messed up.
"Don't be shy. If I'd had your form I never would've retired."
Morrigan smiled cheekily. "Would you like a lesson?"
Leyden laughed and stepped forward picking up a stick leaning against the house. "I could always use a few pointers."
They circled each other for a moment, "go easy on me, I'm an old man."
"I wasn't gonna mention that, but that was the plan all along."
Leyden raised an eyebrow. "I'm sensing your hoping for a challenge?"
They sparred gently, Morrigan hitting the stake lightly so she wouldn't break it.
"Is the story the Prince tells true? About there being dragons in Grimsever? Him killing one of them?"
"Grimsever was where Covac's dragons retreated after Erimon defeated them, so he's right about them being there once, whether he killed one or not, I can't say, I was on the other side of the island when it supposedly happened. Tasked mostly with killing ice giants and trolls."
"How many did you kill while you were there?"
Leyden remembered the process, it had been very laborious to kill the first one, but once he found the strategy that worked, they dropped more easily.
"Oh at least a dozen," he said spinning away from her.
"How do you kill one? A troll?"
He simulated the moves on her with the stake, "you go right for the knees, without hesitation. Carve your way up until they fall and become the same height as you."
He pointed the stake at her, "then it becomes no different than killing a common goblin."
Morrigan's eyes sagged, she was tired, her headache was truly an ache.
"Do you think I'm good enough to defend myself?"
"Think the better question is how will others defend themselves against someone as good as you?" Leyden laughed but then realized she was being serious and hugged her. "I've taught you everything I know. And you've picked up some tricks of your own that I don't know."
She was crying, not sobbing but her eyes were shining.
"You make me proud, every single day you know? You're stronger than you realize. Your mother and sister, I like to think they're watching out for you too."
He teared up a little then, thinking of Sara, of Elara. He kissed the top of her head and longed for more people to hold.
"I'll be fine," she said, her voice choking now, she was trying to fight it, but seeing him tear up had made it harder to manage.
"I know you will. And when this is over we can leave this place, go somewhere quiet again."
Morrigan stepped away from the embrace, thinking for a moment, then she shook her head. "This is my home now."
"You've always said how much you hate it here though, too big and all."
"I made a friend earlier."
Leyden beamed. "It's a wonder you don't have more. Go feed Sandril, I'll be in shortly and you can tell me about this friend of yours."
Morrigan handed him the sword and told him not to hurt himself, she was talking more than she had in years, maybe she wasn't totally comfortable in her own skin yet but it was progress, and that made him joyful, and it made him wish there was another way, that he'd never been a soldier and wouldn't have been in the position he was in. He chucked the sword into the dirt, the point digging into the soil. His joy diminished and he began thinking of a world where he was all alone, where he was the only one who would survive this. He heard Morrigan talk about Cara, and soon stars canvassed the sky, the plains outside the city were quiet, and there were rain clouds over Siladrin. Surely it was snowing there.
--
Larian stood in the throne room that night, staring at the two empty seats, then he stepped forward and sat on the left one. His thoughts had shifted from Amlin which was rare. His mind was quiet, which was also rare. His thoughts were of still blackness. He grabbed the armrests and couldn't believe how uncomfortable the seat was, no wonder his parents rarely occupied them.
"Darling," he heard his mother say. Larian looked up and thought for a moment that even when his mind was still he still failed to notice the world around him. Galian had a sheepish grin on her face, she pointed at the seat he was in.
"That one's for the Queen."
Larian nodded like he'd known that all along, even though there wasn't really a way to tell a difference between the two, the seat he moved to next was perhaps even less comfortable. "And yet both are hard as stone."
"Does it feel right though?" She asked, hoping for a profound answer but Larian didn't really get her meaning. "You certainly look Kingly," she said, backing up and continuing without him. "It's so important for you to get used to this seat, Larian."
"Honestly, Mother, I don't think being able to sit in an uncomfortable chair is the most important part about being a King."
"No of course not, being a ruler is more than sitting in a fancy chair. Even in the short time I'm away you will have trials, tribulations. How you handle them will determine whether people respect you or not."
"Like Father."
"Your Father earned the respect of the Empirical Council. You don't need to worry about commanding that kind of respect right away."
"That was for defeating an army of monsters. That chance could be mine very soon. Not that I want it."
"Not all respect Kings even after such mighty deeds. The only things guaranteed to a ruler are a house, a chair, and a hat. Everything else they have by the time of their death is earned through action."
Larian kept nodding, he was hearing her, his mind allowed it, like it was letting him know this was important, that his fate had been decided for him.
"Dim-Eden was peaceful for a long time, but when the monsters attacked it became chaotic. Before your father, the Elven King faced a similar foe, but he was weak, so his people lost faith in him."
She walked to a wall where the carvings were, the carvings and heroic busts she had been paying more attention to recently. She had noticed that one bust depicted elves cowering at the sight of Covac, the biggest dragon Larian had ever seen, even in storybooks, and his Father, the King, standing tall, challenging the demon lord with a sword that was impossibly big to carry, let alone wield.
"No ruler with a kind heart wants power at first. But power hardens them. Makes them realize who they truly are."
She held her son in front of her, she saw him as she wanted to see him, that was not how he saw himself.
"Remember that no matter how you see yourself, your people will see you differently, it's important to remain steadfast."
Larian was starting to feel overwhelmed, his mother wasn't giving him orders, just advice, he'd never really had any duties as Prince, attend banquets every so often but he liked those because he'd usually be with a nobleman's daughter in a closet by the time dessert was served. This didn't sound fun, not even anything he felt like working at, it sounded terrifying and he wanted no part of it.
That night green and icy blue lights danced in the sky and the astral performance was projected on the lake. The moon, full that night was barely seen as it moved behind Siladrin in the mist. In the morning dew drops fell from leaves on the trees of the Capital, and the sun was hazy. A squirrel proudly ate an acorn on a log, where a lizard had met its demise only a short while ago and a rabid dog picked it up and ran off with it, down the Farad.