Here There be Dragons: Testing the Waters

Their first family dinner was the quietest but also the most energetic that Nereida could remember. They did not meet with the extended family, Nereida begging for a night to spend with her daughter. Basiano had granted it immediately, his face awash with more emotions than Nereida could readily identify. He did stop in to greet Epelda, a sad, faraway look on his face as he did. Epelda signed “Big Salamander!” and nearly jumped into his arms, and the hurt was displaced with a teary smile.

“Glad you came back,” he signed, his words slow. “I have King things to do, but wanted to say hello.”

Then he was gone, and it was just them. Jules arrived, dressed in a fancy little get-up that Nereida did not believe was his. He tugged at his sleeves and his high collar, flushing red as he presented them with a gift, two flutes made of coral.

“From my parents,” he stuttered, looking down at his feet. Nereida narrowed her eyes. Something else was at play here. But the young man did not explain himself. He headed to Epelda’s side, and took her hand. She grinned at him, her expression so full of love that Nereida found herself smiling as well.

Most of dinner was spent catching up with the young couple. Epelda detailed her difficulties commanding a crew that were not fluent in her only language. She described finding Matthias, her relief that he still held the Knave, of dodging other ships and finally, finally getting to see the queen.

“Some battles and some storms,” Epelda finished with, “new scars for the Tooth, but nothing too wild. Though… There are more demons up here. Even the Sylph merchants were concerned at their sudden shift northward. It… I think they know, a little at least, to look for us.” She paused, and simply signed “dragon.”

They let the conversation die, and the boys started explaining all they had learned in their studies. They were most excited about learning about the stars in the sky. It was a wonderful dinner, and Nereida felt calm after it. Even if Jules looked ridiculous in clothing that did not suit him. He kept shifting uncomfortably, or playing with his matching bracelet. Aella’s eyes kept going to the bracelets, but she never asked. They were different from the ones he had proposed with, but they looked to be made of a higher quality; the coral beads and shells had been put on a silver wire instead of sinew.

“I imagine you’ve had a long few days,” Aella said suddenly. “We have a large bath, one for men and one for women, downstairs. I can have the servants fill it for you, and you can lounge in warm, soapy water.” Nereida looked at her wife, not sure where that was going. Aella was not usually one to play games. What was she up to? A blush began to climb up Epelda’s face. Nereida looked to her daughter, then back to Jules who was tugging at the high collar again.

“Alejo, take your brother to get ready for bed. It’s late.” The boy opened his mouth to complain, but then looked at her expression and he fled.

Once the young boys were gone, Nereida leaned toward the couple, putting her elbows on the table in a way that would have horrified her mother. It was a common thing to do, and she hoped it would make them forget, for a moment, who she was. But Epelda saw what she was trying to do.

“Promise you will not be angry,” she signed, her whole body positioned defensively.

“I promise not to keel-haul anyone,” Aella replied softly, her hazel eyes on Jules. The young man swallowed heavily.

There was a tense moment, and finally Epelda looked away first.

“There was a cost,” she signed. “A cost to get another ship through the siren waters.”

“He’s not your fiance anymore, is he?” Aella asked, her voice quiet, but full of barely restrained rage. Jules, as if preparing for his own execution, slowly removed his high collar and vest. Underneath, the low-cut tunic revealed a scar on his collarbone; human teeth marks had been tattooed over with some kind of dark ink. Married in the siren way, then. She wondered how her daughter had managed being poisoned. She desperately hoped Epelda weathered it easier than her mother had.

“Husband,” Epelda signed, slowly, deliberately, her eyes never leaving Aella. Aella’s hand clenched, but she took another step toward Epelda.

“Daughter,” she signed. Epelda’s posture melted from defensive to relieved, her shoulders dropping as she reached out for Aella. “I am not angry at you,” Aella’s signs were slow as her hands shook. “The old bastards,” Aella muttered. “Them I might stab.” Jules' laugh was high and nervous, and he tugged on his sleeves as if he wanted to rip them off. Nereida gave him a small smile.

“I’ll arrange a tailor,” she said to him; a lifeline, a peace offering. He smiled back at her.

“Could it be something that doesn’t itch so much? How do you stand it?” She laughed and leaned back in her chair.

“It’s all I knew for the longest time. Starched lace, tight corsets, never a hair out of place, it was what was expected. But I’m old enough, now, to know what I will accept and what I will not. I will, however, make sure you are properly attired in fashion that suits your rank.” He went white and looked away.

“I’m not really…”

“Son,” she interrupted, placing her hand on his shoulder. He stared at her with big, round eyes, his face so very pale still. “I know who and what you are, Jules.” She kept her voice low, calm. “We did not contradict your lie. It was a necessary thing; to lie.”

“It wasn’t our lie,” Epelda signed. She crossed her arms and huffed. Her wings fluttered as if they wanted her to flee.

“Matthias,” Aella moaned, putting her head in her hands. The girl nodded and Aella groaned again, a sound so full of agitation that Jules snickered. Aella’s face was still covered, and Jules signed the word “brother” at Nereida with a questioning expression. Nereida snorted but shook her head.

The next few days were busy; trips to the tailor, seating charts finalized, lessons for the children, Epelda and Jules, in wedding etiquette. Nereida found a moment to tell her brother about Epelda’s sudden status as married. They were alone, a rare moment these days. His study was full of bureaucracy that had been put off until the coronation, piles and piles of it that seemed to be without organization. He hugged her, his face awash in anger, grief and pain, but asked if she wanted to see her daughter married here too, before they left. She started to protest that she wasn’t leaving, but he shook his head.

“Don’t lie, Nerry. You need to go.” She buried her face in his tunic. He smelled of lavender and smoke, a gentle, calm smell. His arms were suddenly around her, holding her like she was a child again. “You found your home, Nerry. I can’t grieve that. But… come back for a visit?”

“I will,” she promised, trying not to cry. She had thought that all she wanted to do was go home. But home wasn’t the palace. Home was Aella, home was the Tooth. “I’ll think of you, every day.”

“Me too, Nerry.”

Finally, it was the evening before their wedding. Guards showed up with Bassiano. The King wore a smirk that made Nereida feel lighter, before the worry of what her brother had planned sank in.

“Grand Admiral Aella,” he said, his voice booming. The children stared at their uncle with wide eyes, holding still as he spoke. Even Damara stopped moving. “In accordance with our cultural practice, you must bid goodnight to your beloved, and not set eyes upon her until she waits for you at the altar. Instead, you will spend the night in vigil with the closest family you have.” Aella stood, all smiles. Nereida had warned her about the separation, that it was only one night, but at the word “family”, her eyes narrowed suspiciously. Sudden, terrible horror dawned on her face, and she mouthed a single word. “Matthias.”

“My guards will escort you,” he continued, as if Aella wasn’t looking for a way to bolt. “You are permitted to sleep, should you wish. Refreshments will be provided all night at your request, but you and your guests will not leave the vigil until dawn.” Aella slumped, as if she were a puppet with her strings cut, and she slowly ambled after the guards, shooting a look back at Nereida. Nereida, however, just grinned at her wife and waved back, taking a moment to sign “have fun!” at her. Aella scowled playfully, but then chuckled, disappearing down the hall after the guards. Their footfalls echoed for a while before quiet returned.

She spent the rest of the night with her children, telling them stories, listening to Jules tell stories, and just being together. Egaz curled up on her lap while Alejo sat beside her on the floor holding his baby sister. Epelda held her husband’s hand whenever she wasn’t signing, leaning on him, a sweet, soft expression on her face. They used the floor because there was not enough seating for everyone to have space, and so little Damara could play between them. Alejo refused to put his sister down, holding her tight, cooing at her and making faces at her. There was laughter, songs and for a moment, Nereida was happy that they had come. They were together, everyone was safe. The dragons were blessedly quiet in their lives.

Once the three youngest were in bed, and Jules had retreated to the bath to rest before the ceremony, Nereida sat on the couch across from Epelda.

“Water-Mama?” Epelda signed, her face in the shadows of the firelight. Without being able to see her face, it was hard to read Epelda’s tone.

“Yes, daughter?”

“Are you angry?”

Nereida looked at her adopted daughter, looked at the way her shoulders hunched, the way her wings drooped.

“No, Epelda. Not at you, not at Jules. You did what you had to. But… I am sad that I did not see it.” She smiled sadly. “My mother did not see me get married the first time either. I… I spent the last night before my first wedding in a room beneath the town hall, I dressed alone, I had no make up or flowers except the ones I had picked from the woods the night before. I had no friends standing beside me. I was completely alone, and I thought he was the cure for it.” Epelda stared at her, and then reached to take her hand. They sat like that a long time, as Nereida ignored the tears that stung her eyes. She took a few steadying breaths, before she looked up into the face of her daughter. “Tell me you weren’t alone when you and Jules exchanged vows.”

“Dymion and Evander,” she signed with a sad little smile. “They stood as parents.”

“Good men. I owe them both a hug.”

“But… I meant that I ran.”

“Oh, Epelda, no. You kept the Tooth out of the Stars Dragon’s claws. He… he was flawed, deeply.”

“Was?” Epelda stilled, the word flashed quickly, her eyes wide with panic. “Wind told me that if the Dragon dies, their people lose their power.”

“He is not dead, not truly, but it was a close thing.” Nereida told her daughter the whole of it, watching as Epelda’s hands twisted whenever she was frightened, vague half-gestures that were like muttered thoughts.

It was well past midnight when she was done. Epelda walked her to her room, her hands still, her expression thoughtful. She placed a hand on Nereida’s shoulder, and gave her a smile.

“I’m sorry I missed it. I could’ve told Mom that she was being an idiot.” Epelda’s smile was watery in the faint candle light. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Water-Mama.” There was a beat, and then she shyly signed, “love you.” She scurried off before Nereida could reply. The halls were dark and quiet, everyone at rest now. And tomorrow, she and Aella would repeat their vows before royals, nobility and peasantry.