63: King Edward

When I first met King Arthur, I felt so very little. Had he instructed me to kiss the dirt at his feet, I wouldn't have hesitated. Not merely for the reason that serving him would save my family. There is just something about a man who carries the weight of a country on his shoulders that gives him an air of honor and strength, of power. Deserving of the utmost respect. Which is something I didn't feel in Ogalsia's king.

King Edward was a large man, clothed in sun-kissed cloth and crowned with regal horns. Wearing an easy smile with bright eyes, I sought the burden and troubles that should have been plaguing him. He released a joyous roar and met Cyr at the foot of his throne greeting him with an embrace that swallowed Cyr who suddenly seemed so small.

Perhaps not all who lead hold all their troubles at heart. Perhaps not all care to.

"Cyr my friend, I have been eagerly awaiting your arrival!" The King said, his great voice echoing across the throne room. "How has Ogalsia treated you so far? I do hope Sorge was hospitable!"

"Always." Cyr smiled. "How have you been?"

"Very well indeed." The king's eyes ran over us, and his smile only widened. "I see you've brought friends."

Cyr beckoned for us, nodding. "Yes they are but some of many who share our ideals." Nareem approached the king first to take a knee when Cyr cleared his throat and Nareem looked up confused. Cyr touched a finger to his brow and Nareem's eyes widened. He stood and tentatively touched foreheads with the king. One after the other we went. And when it was my turn, the king regarded me with a wonder that unnerved me.

"Could it really be," muttered the king as he held me at arms length, his eyes tracing every inch of my face till he seemed satisfied. "A dragon..."

"December's father is a dragon and her mother is human," Cyr interjected.

The king nodded astonished and bent over to touch his forehead to mine. "Dragons are blessed beasts. It is very nice to meet you."

"And you too." My voice shook as I stepped away. A mess of thoughts marred my mind. What had Ogalsia done to the last dragons? Were they even at fault for their extinction? Had King Arthur lied to me?

"I must commend your bravery, young ones." The King retook his throne, his tone now controlled and careful. "I expect no less from those Cyr trusts." He regarded Cyr, with what could only be sympathy. "You are a good man Cyr, when the children of our children look back they will learn of a sprite who spoke not with magic but only with words that echoed the whispers of the heart."

"You flatter me, Your Majesty." Pain flashed across Cyr's face. A sort of pain that is born from loss. "But as you say, I only speak what is already in the hearts of my countrymen and that of your subjects. Arthur must be dethroned."

"Of course, I trust you've prepared the Kreatian army for a cease-fire?"

"Arthur's army is in shambles. Their leaders have been deposed off. Like headless chickens they run loose. Any action by Ogalsia's army would be a severe blow. But we must keep in mind that this is only temporary, they will soon find leaders to replace those lost. But until then I ask you now as a friend and as the enemy of my enemy you cease all warfare with Kreatier."

I regarded Cyr now in a new light. Should his plan have succeeded and I lived to tell his tales I could never not claim him any less courageous than he was in that moment.

"If and when I successfully rid the throne of Arthur, " Cyr went on, "will our nations truly be at peace. But if I fail, and Arthur remains King I can only ask for forgiveness and that you do what you deem best for both your nation and mine."

For a while King Edward did not speak instead he set his sights on the dome ceiling above which resembled a sunflower whose every petal was a shard of glass that glowed in the sun's light. By far the throne room was the most magnificent section of the palace.

His gaze slowly returned to Cyr. "I trust you. Let there be no more war. Let the people of Kreatier and Ogalsia once again be known as brothers and sisters. Let peace blossom in all hearts."

"Thank you." Cyr lowered to his knees and touched his forehead to the floor before the king.

The King placed a hand on Cyr's shoulder. "No my friend, thank you."

Cyr stood and bowed once again.

"If only," the king said, his tone becoming melancholy, "I could return what Arthur stole from you as a part of the reward you'd receive in your success."

Cyr nodded and smiled but there was no joy behind it. "My magic may never return but I only hope peace will."

"Then!" The King descended his throne. "I shall hold a feast in honor of my good friend Cyr as a welcome and a wish to good fortunes!"

The huge oak doors burst open behind us and a woman of dazzle and grace sauntered in. A pair of horns curled out beside her head just like the king's and a sizzle of excitement filled her eyes.

"Did I hear you say feast Papa!" Said the woman with great zeal.

The King took in his daughter with only fondness. "Yes my dear daughter, we are to celebrate the return of my good friend Cyr."

The princess clapped and spun on her heels, when her eyes met mine and her jaw fell. "What a beautiful girl!" She turned to her father. "Can I have her Papa?"

The King seemed conflicted, his gaze swinging between Cyr and his daughter. I got the feeling that if I hadn't have come here with Cyr the king would very well have sold me off already. "Darling, she is Kreatian." He said it so unsurely, watching the emotions play across his daughters face. First disappointment, consideration then admission.

"Fine!" She said. "But at least let me dress her."

The King regarded me with an obvious discomfort when Cyr spoke in his stead, "December, Princess Uwato would love to help you find something to wear for the feast. If that is alright with you?"

For a moment all eyes were on me, even Philip's.

A feast, I thought and recalled the slave boy who had been beaten for stealing scraps for dogs. The young girl who did my hair, so frail and small, so starved. And now a feast. Guilt pinched my heart but where would my defiance take me but King Edward's bad side and Cyr's disappointment.

~~~

To most people my scales mean one thing, an uncertainty. And uncertainties are a source of fright only if you care enough to consider it. In Kreatier, uncertainty is a crime. So when the princess placed me in a dress that made good display of my scales, I felt as guilty as a criminal. From the tips of my ears and the corners of my eyes scales trailed past my cheeks, down my neck and pooled at my chest. It is an ungodly sight to behold. Which was the only reasonable cause for so many eyes watching me as I entered the feasting hall.

But, perhaps out of habit, I found myself searching for only one among the crowd. He now dawned a dark suit that accented his piercing eyes. His hair had been tied back into what looked like an afterthought, that made him devilishly good-looking. When my stare turned into a ogle his eyes found mine and I remembered that I couldn't cross the room to kiss him.

"December!" The princess hurried my way, blocking Philip from my sight. She forced a goblet into my hands. "Let us drink and dance and kiss people we don't know!"

When I searched for him again he was nowhere to be found. So I took the goblet from the princess and downed the bitter liquid. And then I danced, as bad as I was at it, with anyone willing. I didn't kiss anyone I didn't know but the only one I wanted to.

A/n: expect a steamy next chapter. Also Mo's dress below: