Dragon Knights Fan Fiction ❯ A Suitable Bride ❯ Isolation ( Chapter 7 )
The party's over and the celebrations have wound down. How does Raseleane adjust to her new life?
Anime/Manga: Dragon Knights Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Angst / Fantasy | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 04.08.2004 | Updated On: 04.08.2004 | Pages: 1 | Words: 2.5K | Visits: 286 | Status: Completed
Thanks also to Dee-chan, my beta reader, who's never read any Dragon Knights, but still likes the story. Thanks for betaing this chapter and sending it back the day after I emailed it.
I've changed my mind again and returned to the original plan. This fic is now an 8 chapter story again, so this is not the last chapter. Sorry about the delay. I had a small block, after fixing my first block. I guess it got hard as I neared the end. Hopefully the next chapter shouldn't take as long. Then, I can work on The Lonely and Unfulfilling Life of a Spy again.
Warning: Major angst ahead. This is not like any of my other stories.
Italics are her thoughts.
And so the fairytale ended with 'Happy ever after'. Throughout Draqueen, everyone simply waits for the addendum, 'and the birth of their first son, sealed their happiness'. The lives of dragons are long and their births are a rare and wondrous occasion, but a strange kind of energy fills the kingdom. Their lord was wed; surely a baby would follow soon? Gossip fills the corridors and every glance directed at Raseleane is pregnant with expectation. Everyone is now goose-stepping around her, as if she is made of a fragile glass that can break in the slightest breeze. Dragons must be healthy to have babies and no one wants to bear the responsibility for contaminating the Queen's fertility. Due to the unspoken consensus, no one is allowed to even cough in her presence. It's easiest to avoid her completely and so they do.
The guests all fizzled away, in the days following the ceremony. Lands can only be left lordless for so long. Even the Duke of Lanford and his gracious wife have gone. Along with Kai-Stern. He was last seen accompanying a very pretty girl back to her hometown, while engaged on a mission of the utmost importance. He is missed, but it was worst when Wilhemina left. Having spent her entire life in that woman's shadow, Raseleane expected to feel free. Instead she feels lonely and empty and even forgets her importance, in the endless days.
For the first few weeks, Lykouleon came to her rooms every night, but the visits dwindled, as Lykouleon make his excuses with early mornings and the demands of his duties. Although he was clumsy at first, his touch was gentle and Raseleane grew to live for those nights, the only times where she had her lord's undivided attention.
The night starts with a soft knock on the door. Lykouleon, as always, waits patiently to be admitted, humble as a schoolboy visiting elderly relations. Raseleane primps her hair and examines herself in the mirror, before directing her handmaid to escort the Dragonlord inside. The poor girl had worked in the scullery and still cannot bring herself to look at her lady, simply curtseying when spoken to and waiting to be released to the kitchens and the gossip of her friends. She blushes every time Lykouleon visits and cannot be trusted to carry delicate items, so Raseleane serves her Lord, when he arrives. Not that I mind.
Lykouleon smiles at the girl, who nearly faints and then offers Raseleane a single tulip, before settling himself in an armchair, with a sigh.
"Is something the matter, my Lord?" You look so tired. "The duty of a lady is to ease the burden of her lord." She smiles as she places the flower in a vase on her mantelpiece. She then sits on the floor, between her lord's feet and strokes his knee as he answers.
"The lords of the east demand so much of my time. They want better roads, improved policing and of course, a lower tax burden." He sighs, rubbing his eyes with one of his hands. The other reaches down to caress Raseleane's cheek.
"The lords are probably just testing you, to see what they can get away with. I've heard that..." Raseleane starts, her heart pounding. I've studied situations like these with my tutors. I know exactly how to treat these uppity lords.
Lykouleon dismisses her with a waved hand. "Don't worry about it, Raseleane. I've thrashed this all out with the others. We've got some plan or other to drag them into line." He yawns suddenly and lazily covers his mouth with his hand. Raseleane sits beside him on the arm of his chair and studies his features. His eyes are closing and his clothing is so rumpled, that he no longer looks like the awe-inspiring Dragon Lord, just a tired, attractive, over-worked man. She reaches down and lightly touches his face. His cheek nuzzles her palm sleepily, but when she reaches down to kiss his lips, she realises that he's already gone. She holds him for a moment, then disengages to fetch a maid. The two of them undress Lykouleon and tumble him into bed. He doesn't even stir when Raseleane joins him under the covers. It takes her much longer to drop off.
As always, the bed is cold beside her when she wakes. Does Alfeegi sneak in every morning and spirit him away? The Dragonlord is no different to any other man. He needs sleep! She sighs and rises, staring at the empty bed. How can I conceive a baby, when my lover, even now, her heart beats a little faster, the Dragonlord, my lover, is unable to make love to me? She pauses, as a thought strikes her. Maybe if I talk to Alfeegi... She collapses onto the bed, embarrassed even in her private rooms. Yes, take the Dragonlord away from his important duties, because his wife wants a little affection. I'm sure that there'll be time for ... He's bound to ... Anyway, I can't ask Alfeegi that! She lies on the bed until the blush lifts and she can pretend that such a selfish thought never occurred to her.
If mother was here, she'd be rousing me about now. "A Queen cannot be a lay-a-bed. Get up and greet the day!" She rolls over on her side and pulls the sheets to cover her. I could spend the day here and no one would notice. No one would miss me, unless someone notices the empty chair at the dinner table. Still, so few talk to me, it'd be at least dessert before my absence is mentioned. She perks up a bit. I wouldn't mind missing the boring conversation if I could still have dessert. "Hello Raseleane, what a pretty dress. I notice that it rained yesterday. Grass is green. Anyway, Dragonlord, do you really think that war will break out if we don't step up patrols to the west? A delicate hand brushes hair out of her eyes as she turns onto her back. She sighs, then sits up. Time to begin the two hour dressing process.
Being the immaculate, queenly type takes far too long. Surely most women wake up, shake their hair and that's enough? Maybe run a brush though to detangle it? Why do I need an hour-long bath? She shakes her head. This hair's too long. It takes an hour to wash it and an hour to dry it, an hour to straighten it and an hour to curl it. Mother is convinced that a queen has to have long hair, in order to have gravitas. She runs a hand through her luscious curls. Now that she's gone, maybe it's time for a change. Maybe I should cut it and start a new trend for Dragonqueens. She laughs and pulls herself from her bed. Maybe tomorrow. For now, I'll just have to get ready for my big entrance. I'll write a synopsis for those who miss it. Another day like yesterday, by the DragonQueen of Dusis.
She stretches, undresses and enters the bathing room. The public baths are made from wood, but here in the castle they're made from cold stone, which freezes her feet but lasts longer. She skitters to the towel pile, grabbing the largest one she can find. Steam rises from the water in the bath, which is just smaller than the public baths. She dips a toe in, scalding her frozen toes, but forces herself in anyway. She submerges herself and floats on the water, tranquil, alone in the giant room. No one knocks on the door. No one disturbs her and she lingers longer than she did yesterday. As she drifts on the water, she closes her eyes and feels the small tides lapping against her skin. I wonder if one day, I'll fall asleep and slip beneath the water. I wonder how long I'll survive before I drown, or if I'll wake up, as the water enters my lungs. I wonder if anyone'll look for me in here. She rolls over, the water enveloping her like a gentle lover. Mother would just shout at me until I rose again and got on with queening. She bobs under the water, until it tickles her nose and she rises again. Whatever that is.
She swims to the side of the bath and grabs the soap, making a lather, working the suds into her hair, then rinsing it clean again. Her body gets an equally vigorous cleansing. When done, Raseleane lies back on the water again, enjoying the heat, but feeling a slight chill. She holds her breath and drops under the water, sinking down until her bottom touches the stone bath. A quick push launches her back to the surface. She climbs out and shivering on the stone floor, dries herself thoroughly. Wrapping herself in a clean towel, she runs back across the floor. "A queen does not drip on the bath floor, Raseleane. Always dry yourself, so the staff don't have to clean the floor. Be respectful."
There's a new, regulation, pretty dress waiting for her on the bed. Raseleane stares at it, stunned for a moment. I didn't even know they'd come in. Do I not have any choice on the clothes I wear? A light knock presages the entrance of her handmaid and Raseleane quickly pastes on a smile and allows herself to be dressed.
Once dressed and after all her attempts at conversation are turned aside, she dismisses the girl and leaves the room. Where to? Where to? The castle is pretty much known to her. She's explored practically every area, in various fits of boredom. The hope of finding a cool, secret, forgotten room, filled with ancient magic has long since faded. Dusty rooms are the only treasure and Raseleane, as always, has to have a care for her appearance. Instead of risking the dusty dangers of a long-dead king's bedroom, she heads for the servants quarters, which are usually full of life. There are a few unremarkable areas there, from which she can safely spy. She passes the portrait gallery on the way. Picture after picture of long-dead, long-haired queens smile benignly at her. She snorts at them, before hurrying on.
On hearing the timid voice of her handmaid she stops. I nearly didn't recognise her. She sounds confident and content. Not the shy little girl that attends me. Looking around, she spots an open door and slips into the room behind. I want to find out more about her. Maybe then, I can draw her out and have a friend.
"What's the queen really like? I can't tell you." Her voice is far more confident than before.
"Cernozura, tell me. It's not like, some state secret, is it?" This voice is teasing and more than a little cocky.
"Sharl, it's not like that. She's the queen. She could fire me if I displeased her. I don't want to be thrown out for breaking her favourite cup, or even her least favourite. I've heard stories from the girls who worked for other ladies and I'm going to be careful."
"Cernozura, you can't trust them. Every time they tell those stories, their ladies get more unreasonable and their own behaviour more saintly." Raseleane peers through the keyhole and spies Sharl, her hands resting on her hips as she laughs at her friend. "Do you really think that they acted any differently to the way they act now? If they're really saints, why don't they attend to the Dragonqueen? I bet they won't be allowed near the baby."
The baby? Oh, she means my baby. Raseleane holds her empty stomach as the conversation continues.
"That's the strange thing, Sharl." Cernozura shakes her head and grabs Sharl's shoulder. "I've been watching and she's not pregnant yet."
"What?" she exclaims, her voice echoing down the hall. "But, but they're married. How can she not be pregnant?" She lowers her voice and leans in. "Does he sleep with her?"
Cernozura coughs and whispers back. "Of course. Not as often as I'd have thought, but he does."
"Well, he's the Dragonlord," Sharl says, matter-of-factly. "He's busy."
"I know, but I keep wondering. Why doesn't she use the dragoneyes?"
"Huh?"
"Well, they're magic aren't they?" Cernozura questions. "They have great power, right? The Dragonqueen needs to have them, or she's not the Dragonqueen, yeah?" Raseleane presses herself against the door, sacrificing sight for clearer sound. "Why is that? Maybe, in order to get pregnant with the Dragonlord's baby, she needs to use their power."
"Oooohhhh!" breathes Sharl. "Maybe you're right. Otherwise Alfeegi would be pushing the Dragonlord into our beds, to make a spare heir."
"What?" she squeaks.
"Oh come on," Sharl teases. "I wouldn't kick out the Dragonlord. I'd bet he'd make a beautiful baby."
"Shhhhh!" Cernozura hisses. Raseleane pulls back and watches the two girls again.
"You would though, wouldn't you?" Sharl asks, unsure.
"Of course." Cernozura giggles and then presses her hand to her friend's mouth. "Don't tell anyone."
Sharl giggles and then runs down the corridor. Cernozura gives chase.
Dragoneyes? Why didn't I think of that?