Here There be Dragons: Testing the Waters

The children were all in bed, the boys snoring away, Damara curled up and cozy. Nereida paced their living room, trying not to worry. She had expected Aella to be gone five, maybe ten minutes, but nearly an hour had passed. What was her wife doing? Had she gotten into trouble, into a fight? Aella didn’t like Caleb at the best of times, and these were hardly the best of times. Nereida clenched her toes, feeling the carpet through her stockings. She still wore her fancy clothing, the petticoats and layers were her armour.

Finally, finally, the door opened and Aella came in. Her wife looked exhausted, and Nereida realized she was shaking.

“I’m sorry, love, I didn’t mean to take so long. I stopped in the kitchen and got some bread. The vision took it out of me.” Aella wasn’t looking at her when she spoke, but instead was removing her jacket, peeling it off like a rind from a fruit. It made a squelching sound as she dropped it to the floor, and Nereida realized her wife’s clothing was still wet. Everything else fled from Nereida’s mind, and she urged Aella into the bedroom to take her clothing off.

Aella was shivering. Nereida stripped her clothing from her and wrapped her in clean, dry blankets. She guided Aella to the hearth, and made her sit near it until her shivering slowed.

“You know you shouldn’t stay in wet clothing,” Nereida admonished.

“You’d prefer I drop my trousers in front of your brother-in-law?” Aella asked, a bite to her tone. Nereida chuckled at the image. Caleb would turn as red as his hair!

“I think he’d die of embarrassment." She kissed Aella’s head, and began working her fingers through the thick, dark braid. Aella’s hair was wet and wouldn’t dry in the braid. She started by pulling out the threads keeping her wife’s hair in the basket-shape. Aella shivered at the touch, leaning into Nereida. “You were gone so long I was starting to wonder if you’d thrown fists.”

“No,” Aella grumbled. She crossed her arms like a petulant child. “I left him alone.”

“What was he up to?” Nereida asked softly, her fingers working to undo the braid. The hearth fire was pleasantly warm on her face. Aella stiffened at the question, a slight adjustment of how she sat, her shoulders squaring as if she was expecting an attack. Nereida pursed her lips, knowing her wife couldn’t see her displeasure.

“Nothing we need to concern ourselves with,” Aella grumbled. Nereida stopped her fingers, and just waited, silent and seething. She knew the non-answer was an evasion, if not a lie. She watched the fire slowly consume the white-barked wood, the smoke rising white and thin into the chimney. The crackling fire popped, and Aella flinched at the sound.

“Try again,” Nereida said, her voice dripping with her disappointment. Aella turned to look at her then, her face pale, drawn and full of grief. She pulled the blankets up self-consciously.

“Will you promise to stay here if I tell you?” Aella asked softly. Nereida crossed her own arms.

“You promised no secrets and no lies, love.” The siren did not keep the bite from her tone. Aella looked down at that, her hands clenching the blanket tightly.

Nereida was prepared to sit on the floor and glare at her wife all night, but Aella folded quickly enough.

“Caleb arranged for the egg to be in the fire. He knew it would be safe, because the Ocean told him so.” Her voice was quiet. “The vision I had was of two roads, one to ruin, one to prosperity. I made the choice, tonight, to walk the path to prosperity.”

“And the cost?”

“The traitor dies.” Aella looked away at that, her face ashen. Nereida gently took Aella’s chin in her hand. At the gentle touch, Aella told her all of it; the scion that would be born as they consumed their mother’s magic and very life. That Basiano would have his child and his dragon, but not his revenge. That Aella felt supremely guilty for the terror and pain the traitor would feel. Nereida felt sick, and tried to get to her feet, but Aella caught her arm, her expression desperate.

“It has to be like this,” she said, her voice shaking. “Moon showed me. You are the one who told me to trust my magic!” Nereida sank back onto the floor, her knees protesting as she went. She wanted, desperately, to be mad at Caleb, at Aella for their choice. She knew that sacrificing Masilee, even after everything she did, was not right. But… as she looked into Aella’s hazel eyes, looking for malice, she saw only grief and desperation.

“They aren’t omnipotent,” Nereida whispered. “Even Moon doesn’t see everything.”

“This was clear,” Aella replied, pulling away in her frustration. “The Dragon of the Stars needs a twin.”

“You’ve never given birth,” Nereida said quietly. “You don’t know what you are condemning her to do.” Aella snorted.

“I am still a parent! I know what I’m choosing! I know how horrible it is! Do you think that your wife, the person you love, could choose something so absolutely horrible if I didn’t think it was the only safe option! I don’t need her suffering on my conscience!”

“Only her death?”

Aella grabbed a pillow and screamed into it, the blanket falling from her shoulders. Nereida turned away to look at the stone walls, looking for imperfections in the craftsmanship, trying to distract her mind and trying to avoid seeing her wife’s conflicted frustration. After a moment, she stood, and made for the bed, sitting on the edge of it and curling her lizard toes into the rug. The rough carpet felt good in between her claws, scrubbing at the small scales.

“I’ll stay here,” Nereida said softly. “In the main room, awake, in case someone has a crisis of conscience and asks for me.” Aella sighed, looking torn between relief and guilt.

“I can have tea sent to us?” she suggested. Nereida considered telling her wife she wanted to wait alone. This was a different kind of vigil, waiting for someone to be declared dead. It was ghoulish.

But she did not want to do it alone.

Nereida waited patiently for her wife to get dressed. She did not help, simply waiting out of the way as Aella donned simple trousers and a tunic. Nothing fancy, her clothing was to the mourning standard without buttons or clasps, in simple, neutral colours. Realizing she was still in her petticoats, Nereida changed as well, hanging the clothing for another time, one where, hopefully, they could find joy. She placed the petticoats and dress in the wardrobe, tossing on a simple, plain grey cotton frock. Together, they headed to the main sitting room. Aella requested tea and a snack of meat, cheese and bread be sent to them as well. The servants were obliging, and included some dried fruit as well. Together the wives ate, neither talking, neither looking at the other, until their hands brushed as they reached for the same piece of cheese. Aella snatched her hand away first, putting both her hands in her lap. Her thin fingers began playing with her wedding bracelet, a habit from happier times. Nereida checked a sigh, knowing that would only make things worse.

“I’m sorry,” the siren whispered. She reached for a piece of cheese, placing it on top of her dried fruit. “I love you Aella. And I know you aren’t choosing this out of anger or hatred. I don’t want to fight.”

“Neither do I, Ner. I’m sorry too. You were right… no secrets between us.”

“Except for birthdays,” Nereida said with a cheeky grin. Aella chuckled, and just like that, the room felt warmer. “You can keep good secrets on my birthday.”

“Those are surprises, love, not secrets.” Aella scooted closer to her. Nereida leaned in, resting her head on Aella’s thin shoulder.

They passed the time together, Nereida reading to her wife from the book of fables that she had loved as a child until her eyes grew too heavy to read. She dozen in her wife’s arms, only waking when a servant came in. The hearthfire was merely coals now, but the sun was not yet up.

“Begging your pardon, Princess,” the old woman said, ringing her hands in her apron. “I did not wish to wake you, but his Majesty requested that you attend him.” The sleep that remained was washed away by the woman’s words. Nereida stood, wobbling on her feet. The woman’s eyes darted to the lizard leg that was revealed when she moved, but the woman simply looked down and did not say anything. Would she be the target of the gossip that the servants shared? Or had enough happened the last week that nothing was shocking to them any longer?

They moved through the servant tunnels by the light of the woman’s candle. Her dark hair was bound in a severe bun. She looked confused when Aella followed too, but did not stop them either. The shadows were longer in the servant corridors, the air cooler and damper. Nereida pulled her shawl up, a chill creeping down her neck. The walk was long, and the only sound was their footfalls on the stone flooring. She remembered exploring these corridors as a child, and how adventurous it seemed. Now it just felt lonely and sad.

After what felt like an hour, they walked into Basiano’s sitting room. It was not all that different from theirs, though there were more signs that they belonged there: three different family portraits were hung near the mantle, and, heartbreakingly, the portrait of Camina on her eighteenth birthday. Her smile in the portrait was bright and welcoming, the crown on her head was the same one she had worn on the pyre. Caleb was on the couch, half asleep. His mourning clothing was stained a deep maroon, his hand was caked in blood. He stirred when they entered. There was no colour in his face, and he looked worn out. Nereida almost asked him what had happened, but he shook his head gently, his eyes shining with tears that he was refusing to shed. Basiano, Priscilla and Orelia entered at that moment from the bedchambers carrying little bundles. Aella stepped closer to Nereida, grabbing her hand.

One of the bundles began to cry, the tiny voice clearly belonging to a human. A second cry joined the first, this one higher, closer to the mewing of a kitten. A dragon and an infant were in the women’s arms. Nereida took a step forward, letting go of Aella’s hand. She peered into the bundles. The little dragon had ruby red scales, tiny little horns and no teeth. The human baby was covered in fine scales near their eyes that shimmered red in the firelight. Her eyes were closed tight, and she had a shock of red hair.

“It’s over,” Basiano said, sounding far away, exhausted. Priscilla leaned into him, her heartbreak obvious on her face. He kissed her head, a gentle, tender kiss.

“It is not over yet, Scion.” Nereida felt her heart skip a beat. She turned around to see Aella had wings of silver protruding from her back. Her eyes shone with a faint light.

“Moon!” Nereida gasped. “Give her back, please!”

“When my task is done, child. Do not fret.” She stepped forward. Both women pulled their bundled infants to their chests protectively. “I am not here to harm the brother of my son. I am here to right a wrong.” She stepped closer still, forcing Nereida to step aside to avoid the massive wings. “We separated the twins before their eyes opened. They spent their lives hating the other half of their own hearts.” She raised her hand, which was now clawed and covered in faint silver scales that shimmered in the firelight. “Put them together on the floor, children of the Stars. Let the cycle be broken.”

Hesitantly, the queens placed the infants on a blanket on the floor so they faced each other. Unwrapped, it was clear that the human baby was less human than Nereida had first assumed. She was scaled and had clawed fingers and toes, along with a long, thick tail that thrashed about. The dragon infant made another cry, and the little baby responded. When the baby dragon opened his fire-red eyes, it was the infant he first saw. The little infant responded to his cry by opening her eyes as well. They were red too, though a lighter shade. A warm light flooded the room, blinding the humans in the room. Nereida stumbled back and dropped to her knees. She knew the touch of Moon’s magic now.

When the light cleared, there were two perfectly human infants on the floor. They each had a head of red, curly hair, and their eyes were red, but the scales, tails and claws were gone.

“Transmuted for your convenience, humans. But they will revert to their true selves on their twelfth birthday. Do be kind enough to warn them. Raise them well, King of Grief, and you will have no need to see me again. Do recall that mercy and kindness are to be extolled, not punished.” Her voice carried a strange note, and Nereida caught the way Basiano stiffened. The Moon Dragon flapped her large wings once, the force of the air blowing Nereida’s hair from her face. “Droplet, I shall speak to you another time beneath the full moon, when our daughter is in our arms.”

“Yes Moon,” she replied, not daring to look up. She heard Aella hit the floor as her passenger relinquished the wheel, and only then did Nereida rush to her side. Caleb did as well, helping the Admiral sit up with a surprising tenderness.

“Two children from one egg,” Aella said as she came awake. She was still clearly dazzled by the magic the Moon had wrought using her body.

“I understand,” Basiano answered softly. There was a pause as the only sound came from the now hungry infants. It was Priscilla who broke the silence.

“How do we feed them? Will they need a nursemaid?” Nereida chuckled softly, feeling at last like she could be of some use.