The Dragon's Legacy

Chapter Fifty-Two

Amethyst stood in front of the large window by the large window close to the Golden Throne, as she looked at her country.

For now, her war was over.

But she knew one day, which she knew would come, Jumong would come back. She did not know when, she did not know where and how, but she knew her half-brother better than that...

Amethyst calmly rubbed her black eyes with her fingers and brought her head down and looked at the courtyard to look at the servants who attended to their duties.

She could see Sly trying to play the harp by the gate that opened to the inner courtyard of the God-Empress's Palace, as she frowned and moved his lips slowly as if he was cursing beneath his orange mustache as he struggled with playing the harp.

But next to him was Daemion, who would in a line as he wore his black leather coat, with Dark Sister on his waist, and his crimson shirt beneath it.

Daemion had been restless for days now. He would only walk around and rub the hilt of Dark Sister and look around him as if he was stabbed through the heart. He looked at every corner with his deep violet eyes as if he was spotting an enemy. He refused to drink any tea that would calm him down or did not even bother to speak about what troubling him.

Whenever Amethyst, Zhea or even his best friend, Sly, asked him what was happening to him, he had a simple answer, for it was the truth itself. "I don't know."

But Amethyst knew him better than that.

Not only Daemion had begun to become more restless, but his mount, Modread, had also grown more aggressive over the past few days and had begun to nest in the caves in mountains far from the Golden Palace.

Amethyst could assume that the Scarlet-Black Dragon preferred the solitude of caves, for apparently, according to Daemion back in the war, those mountains were where Modread had nested during his ten months of residence in Yi-Ti, twelve years ago.

Amethyst walked outside of the throne room and made her way toward the courtyard, where Daemion and Sly were seated.

                                   ___________

"How do people even play something like this?!" Sly spoke frustrated as he kept dragging his thick fingers across the harp.

Daemion rubbed his eyes restless as he, for a reason unknown to him, could feel a fury building inside of his and spoke. "Why the sudden interest in music? I thought the only music to your forsaken ears was the clash of swords and scream of dying men."

"Well, commander. You are absolutely right. But you see I am not playing this for my own amusement..." Sly chuckled calmly and spoke softly. "My beloved Dara, the mother of my children, always played her harp after every time that we had made love... And this... is her harp."

Daemion looked at his old and best friend. "You've had that for all these years? How come you never pulled it out or showed it to anyone, even me?"

Sly smiled a gentle smile as he ran his finger across the harp as if it was the hair of a lover and spoke. "The reason I kept it hidden is because I do not know how to play, like how my beloved did." Sly spoke softly as he looked at the Harp. "Dara would play the harp every time she was happy, sad or simply when she missed the sound of cheering birds. Whenever we finished making love... or when it was the birthday of one of our children, she would play a melody with her long fingers..." Sly spoke softly and fondly as a soft smile, but yet a sad one appeared on his face.

Daemion calmly blinked and spoke calmly. "She was a lovely lady. There will be a day and time for you two to once more share what you once had... But if the gods are kinder than the Seven, then perhaps in another life, you could live a life with her in a form, with a distant memory of what you feel for your cherished memory with her." Daemion spoke and slightly smiled calmly.