Here There be Dragons: Testing the Waters

The next few days passed in a grey blur. Nereida moved through each grief-filled function, appearing stoic and calm before the nobility that gathered over the weeks to pay respect to her father. She stood beside Aella the second night as the funeral pyre was built in the courtyard, watched as the flames broke down the remains of her father. The Ash Minder spun the ashes into pendants for each child to keep along with the bust that would go into the Hall of the Fallen. Nereida’s felt heavy.

It was her fault her father was dead.

She had tried, more than once, to explain her feelings, to her wife and to her mother. But both women refused to hear it. They both stoutly refused that Nereida was at fault. She even tried to tell her mother about the possession, about the Dragons of Moon and Ocean, but her mother didn’t believe her, thought it was no more than a terrible dream brought on by something the sirens had given her during their wedding ceremony. That hurt, and so Nereida stopped trying.

She had made peace with Caleb, who had quietly, in the moments they found themselves alone during one of the endless public grieving moments, told her that his youngest daughter’s fire was weak, and the King had threatened to disinherit her if Caleb did not do what he wanted. Caleb loved his children more than he loved Nereida, and so had done the unthinkable. It still hurt, and she knew they would never be friends as they had once been. She felt a wave of anger at her father, and nearly began to sob again. She wondered if her tears would ever run out.

At least Basiano seemed to be in control more often than not, her eldest brother always had kind words, gentle hugs and reassuring smiles. She had not seen him shed any tears, but she assumed that the tears were kept to himself. She had not managed to get him alone at all, and she desperately missed how easily she had been able to talk to her big brother on the ship. The ship seemed like a lifetime away. She wanted to go back to the ease of it, where she could see her family when she wanted and the gods didn’t seem like enemies.

A week had passed since her father’s murder, and Nereida was startled by a knock on her door in the early morning hours. She was up with Damara, but even her boys were still abed, having been up until nearly midnight the night before at a vigil for her father’s soul. She leaned against the door but did not open it.

“Who goes?” she called.

“Camina,” came the young voice. Concerned, Nereida pushed the door open. The young woman on the other side of the door was still in her night clothes. Her long red hair cascaded down her back. She was tall and broad, mimicking her father’s build. Basiano’s oldest daughter scurried into her wing as if she were being hunted. Nereida felt her stomach clench. She shut the door, and brought the young woman to her couch.

“Auntie,” the girl said in greeting, her voice wavering. She sounded like she was about to cry.

“What is it?” Nereida sat beside her, placing her infant on a carpet on the floor to play.

“Something is wrong with Papa.” She clenched her hands, wringing her skirt. “He’s been different since he came home. Did something happen?” The young woman was staring at a spot on the floor as if it held the answers to her predicament. “I should be Crown Princess, once he takes the throne. But… I heard…” she swallowed, and Nereida put her hand on the young woman’s knee. “I heard him saying to Masilee that the baby she carried would be his heir. There's five of us, including his baby siren, and we are just supposed to let this new little one, who isn’t even born, take the throne? They might not even be dragonblooded! That’s against everything we’ve ever been told!” She sniffled. “He was talking about betrothing me to Count Calida… He’s nearly thirty, Auntie!” The young woman began to cry. Nereida, not prepared for this onslaught of emotions and information, simply took the young woman into her arms and held her.

“I will talk to him,” she said softly.

“No! Please, then he’ll know I was listening. I just… I need to understand why Papa is like this! Did something happen while he was out at sea?”

“A lot happened,” Nereida hedged. She wiped the girl’s tears away. “I can fix this.”

“Can you? Because my uncles are at a loss. Uncle Caleb keeps crying! They aren’t like that, weren’t like that until he left, and you came back and everything went wrong!”

Nereida let the young woman’s hysterics wash over her. She added them to the pile of things that hurt, things she had broken.

“We interfered in some deep magic,” she told the girl softly. “It has left a mark on all of us.” Camina stared at her as if she had gone insane. Nereida sighed, and, slowly, lifted her skirt. The fashion of long skirts meant that none of her family had seen her draconic leg. They had only seen her limp, her cane, and had assumed that was the result of the torture she had endured at the hand of the demons. Torture she had been forced to recount to the assembled court by her father and the dragon in her brother’s skin. Carina stared at her, mouth agape. She slowly reached out to touch it, trepidation on her face.

“This is real?” she asked. “What siren magic is this?”

“Dragon magic,” Nereida replied. “No mere siren did this to me.”

There was a long moment of silence that stretched between them. Camina looked down at Damara, then bent down to scoop her up. “This little one… is she a siren like you?” Clearly meant to move past the idea of the Dragon Magic. Her niece did not believe her. She understood, she wouldn’t have believed if she had not seen.

“I’m not sure yet. She’s too young to be sure. Her other mother is Moon-Blooded.” Another lie. The child was a dragon, not a siren, not Moonblooded. Camina cuddled the baby closer, and peered at Nereida suspiciously.

“Does she make people mad, your wife? I heard that the Moon-folk brought madness.”

“No!” Nereida protested. “Aella barely has any control over her magic, and she has only ever shown prophetic power. Besides, she would never do that to a person!” Camina nodded, mollified. She bobbed the baby’s nose gently, earning a coo from Damara.

“If Papa does make me Crown Princess…. I’m going to need to marry, aren’t I?”

“Soon. By this time next year. It…. it is expected that you produce heirs.”

“I won’t let him choose for me.” Camina stood, and placed Damara back into Nereida’s arms. The younger princess looked over at the older one, trepidation heavy on her young face. “You ran.”

“I did.”

“Were you happy?”

Nereida paused, and closed her eyes.

“I was, at first. But…. my road was rough. I didn’t find the right person at first. He…. I…. He is dead. And now I have Aella, who IS the right person.” She did not want to tell her niece she had killed her first husband. How could she? Camina picked up one of the pillows. It was covered in a soft velvet, though one of her boys had spilled something on the pillow, and there was a stain. “If he tries to make me marry someone… someone I don’t love, can you, will you?" She couldn’t finish the question. Camina squeezed the pillow tightly in her arms, as if trying to force her fear into the pillow.

“Can you stomach a life at sea? A life of hardship?”

“Better than a life of misery.”

“Then, if the ship returns, I’ll help you. But, in the meantime, keep your head down, and I will do what I can.” Nereida pulled the young woman into her arms again. She had been Camina’s age when she had fled. Was this the life she escaped, being married off and made to disappear? She knew of the Calida family, they lived far, almost at the far end of the kingdom. If Camina went, she would rarely be able to come home.

Nereida invited her young niece to tea, and the young girl agreed, looking a little less frazzled now that she had the beginnings of a plan, the echoes of an ally, and a slim glimmer of hope. Together they moved into the small kitchen in their wing. The servants were up and about, preparing breakfast. Nereida began making tea on the stove, despite the servant’s horrified protests. She did this to them at least once a week, she was not sure why they still fought her. Camina watched, a smirk on her face.

“You don’t let them help? It’s their job!” The young woman gave a respectful nod at the servants, who bowed or curtseyed back. “See?”

“I lived on my own for a long time,” Nereida replied quietly. “It took me a long time to learn to survive. This is… I won’t go back to being helpless.”

“Helpless?”

“If you were suddenly without servants, Camina, could you cook a meal? Wash your own clothing? Go to the market without overpaying?” The young woman stared at her, and then shook her head. “Helpless.”

They drank tea in companionable silence for a long time, before the young woman, ever so quietly, asked:

“Will you teach me?” Nereida smiled, nodded, and reached for her niece’s free hand. The young woman did not pull away.

“It would be my honour.”

After breakfast, Nereida and Aella walked her niece to her brother’s wing, and knocked on the door. They were invited in by the guard, who said that Countess Camina had been missed during breakfast.

“She broke fast with me,” Nereida replied, covering for the girl. “I wanted to get to know her, and she was gracious enough to join me.” Camina nodded.

“His Highness requests tea with you both in the drawing room,” the guard said. Aella shifted nervously. Even her wife knew that it was less a request and more an order to appear.

“Of course,” Nereida replied, slipping her hand into her wife’s. Aella’s hands were cold and clammy. She clenched her hand, as if to draw strength from Nereida. “I will take a splash of milk in my tea, Aella will have three sugar cubes.”

“Yes, your Grace,” the guard replied. He motioned to a servant, who scurried off, and led them to the drawing room.

The room was decorated in pleasant blues, soft and welcoming. There was a bookshelf full of old, leatherbound tomes on the east wall, a warm hearth burning brightly on the west wall. Nereida took a seat on a plush couch, and Aella leaned into her. Every muscle in the Admiral seemed tense. Nereida kissed her wife’s cheek.

“It’s alright,” she whispered. “We have this. It’s Basi in there, even if he’s not at the helm.” Aella nodded stiffly, but clearly Nereida’s words did not reach her wife’s heart.

Basiano swept into the room, his billowing purple cloak making him appear even larger. A gold crown sat on his head, causing wrinkles in his forehead. His yellow, catlike eyes settled on Nereida, and she tightened her grip on Aella. Not Basiano today. Still, he observed the niceties as tea was served, asking after them, asking after the children, until the servants drifted out.

“You’ve been speaking to the eldest,” he said, taking a long, slow sip, never lifting his eyes from Nereida. “Why?”

“She had questions.”

“About me?”

“You haven’t been subtle,” Nereida chastised. A look of shock appeared on the Dragon’s borrowed face, and it dissolved into a deep chuckle. Aella stiffened at the sound.

“I will have the future leaders of this land be proper Scions,” he said, clearing away his mirth by standing. “Do not interfere.”

“You will antagonize the nobles if you break the rules,” Nereida hissed. “Do you want a civil war? Will you make my brother’s hands unclean with the blood of his people?” Aella pulled her back to the couch, whispering her name in warning. She did not remember standing. Her blood boiled as she stared at the inhuman eyes.

“I will lead my people as I see fit,” he snarled. The temperature in the room began to rise.

“Do. You. Want. War?” She shook loose of Aella, who hissed her name, and poked the Dragon’s stolen chest with her index finger with each angry word.

“Know your place, Scion.”

“I do. Protecting my people. Not of birth but of heart.” She glared up at him.

The dragon suddenly laughed, deep, true amusement on his face. He had the utter audacity to pet her on the head like a child or a dog.

“Your point is valid, Droplet. Sit. I will not banish the eldest child.” She felt the anger simmering, but pushed it down. The dragons were her allies. They needed the dragons. “I will simply make her child a Scion.”

Horror washed over Nereida.

“That’s his daughter,” she cried.

“Oh, don’t worry your little head about the specifics, Droplet. She’ll never need to know how she came about being pregnant. I’ll even let the host vessel forget.” He said it gently, as if he was being kind.

“You see how that’s worse, don’t you, Great One?” Nereida felt her mouth go dry. She would not allow this!

“Never fear, small one. I will wait until you have left. I will let her choose a partner. There will be no shame brought on the heir.” He smiled at her again, a patronizing smile that made her toes curl.

“Ner, leave it,” Aella whispered, her tone full of fear and worry. Nereida turned to her wife, her blood pounding in her head and the anger in her threatening to drown her. Aella wanted her to leave it? After EVERYTHING she had been through? She pulled away from her wife and her cowardly fears. Aella winced, and looked at the ground. Nereida stormed out of the room, slamming the heavy door. Nearby, the guards jumped, but neither moved toward her. If Aella would not help her, she would find a way to stop the Dragon on her own.