The Lady of the Rose

The Lady of the Rose

Tauria

Part One

Sun gleamed down on the clearing, where a young woman sat. Her hair was like golden sunlight streaming down her back, and her eyes were bottomless pools with no clear color. Flecks of gold, violet, and blue seemed to be the majority of color in her eyes, however.

She was neither pale nor tan. When the moon was out, she reflected its ghostly pallor. When the sun was out, she was as tan as one of the wild-people, who only went indoors during the cool of the night.

Her dress was much like her eyes, as it had no true color. It was sometimes a deep blue, like that of the clearest lake, and sometimes it was as red as the sunset. Other times, it was a bright green, like the healthiest grass, and other times it was a gorgeous pink, like a pretty butterfly. Many believed it depended on her mood, and the rest believed it was a reflection of surrounding. They would both be wrong.

She wore no shoes. Her feet were covered by tattoos of spirals with thorns on them from her toes to her ankle. She moved with a grace that was almost feral, yet at the same time, it was almost timid - unsure.

Her lips were red and full, and her eyelashes were long and thick. Her cheekbones were placed high, and her ears were slightly pointed. Her teeth were white, and her canines were sharp.

She had a strange aura about her, as well. This was to be expected, however, since she had been raised by dragons, and possessed dragon blood. She had been taught in their voice, and in Old Magic only they remembered. She had also learned different human tongues.

She was called Rose, on account of how beautiful she was... but also of how dangerous she was. Her thorns were sharp, and if necessary, they drew blood.

No humans were in the glade with her. No knights, no companions. All that was with her was her faithful dog, who sat beside her as she sang. Her voice was lovely. It had a magic to it as well. In fact, magic seemed to hang about her, in ways that no other human could dream of having about them.

Her singing touched the ears of a young man, who sat with his small group of armed men outside a large castle. He was the High General, and the Lord of the Dragon Hall. He had dark brown hair that fell unevenly passed his chin. His eyes were green-blue with flecks of gold within them.

The men were speaking about what was happening in their parts of the world to one another, and the seventeen year old male - whose name was Arren Dragonblood - was quite bored, as he had taken no part in the conversation so far.

"I will be back," he informed the men, turning in the direction that the gorgeous singing was coming from.

The men paid him no mind, continuing their conversations. Arren headed towards the gorgeous singing. He had to know what in the kingdom of Dream could be making such a pretty noise. It was not a Siren, he knew that much. Having Dragon blood made him impervious to Sirens voices.

It was not long before he reached the young woman's glade. He approached her cautiously, not wanting to disturb her. He made sure to make as much noise as he could. She paid him little mind.

"Afternoon, milady," Arren spoke as soon as she had finished her song.

"Afternoon, Lord." She responded in kind, suddenly wishing she had chosen a different spot in the forest that day.

"My name is Arren," he told her simply.

"I am called Rose," she said softly.

Arren nearly started. He had stumbled upon the Lady of the Rose? The woman who's beauty drove men to do crazy things? Now he understood the allure of her voice. Everyone knew that the Lady of the Rose had dragon blood streaming through her veins. But he also knew that any other woman was ruined for him now. He had been with a few before, but none were as intriguing or beautiful as the Rose that sat before him now.