The Dragon Prince's Consort

Thirty-Nine

"Fang," Valen pleaded with her, "sit down, you're making me dizzy."

"You're dizzy?" Fang swung round to him, eyes wide and her lips pulled back from her teeth, and held up one hand with her fingers pinched to her thumb. "I was this close to watching you die! Do you think I want that? Do you think I want you to get killed?"

"No, of course not–"

"What am I supposed to do if something happens to you? I can't talk the Federation into setting up a colony, I can barely read Drass, how am I supposed to do any of this by myself? I can't do this without you, Valen. If you die, I... I'm fucked!" Fang gasped as her emotions overwhelmed her, tear ducts bone-dry a moment ago flooding again. Over by the hearth Benna quietly finished her tea and left the apartment without excusing herself; Fang just barely registered the absence as her vision blurred and her knees began to tremble. She sat before she fell, burying her face in her hands while she sank down into the high-backed chair Benna had vacated. Her hair hung loose around her face like a curtain, strands tickling her ears and brushing her fingertips as she tried to control her breathing before she broke into a full sob.

For a short time Valen remained silent on the couch, holding his splinted wrist up as the physician had instructed. The fireplace popped and hissed. "Fang... I'm sorry."

Fang sniffed and said nothing. Sure you are.

"Fang, please, I am sorry. I didn't want to fight Tias, but if I didn't–"

Fang snatched her hands from her face, slapping the thick layers of silk over her thighs. "I don't care, Valen! I told you I've dealt with shitty people on my own for years – what I can't do is sit back and watch you do something stupid like get yourself killed!" She looked up, and the hurt in his eyes stung her heart with regret. Fang looked down at her lap, her hands twisting together. "I'm sorry. You're not stupid, I'm just–"

"I know, Fang. I was scared too."

"Then why? If you didn't want to fight him, why did you?"

Valen winced as he adjusted his arm. "Because I'm a Drassian, and soon you will be too. We have a code of honor that goes back a thousand years, if I want any kind of respect from my people I have to show that I'm willing to fight for it, even die for it."

"So you'd die to prove a point?"

Valen nodded, dead-sober. "I would."

"And you'd leave me all alone." Because you don't really love me, Fang reminded herself. This whole charade, each night they slid between the silk bedclothes and pressed their bodies together, every time Valen's cock pushed deeper and filled her with white-hot fire, it was all a lie. You'd die for honor, but not for me. Now Fang thought she understood why Aisana was so unhappy despite being the most powerful woman in the Drassian Empire, and therefore the most powerful woman in the known universe. If that's what it is to be a Drassian, then I don't want it.

"Fang?"

"What?" she hissed, jaw stiff and hands clenched in her silk robes over her knees. Though she was certain Valen felt even worse than he looked, both physically and for his actions, Fang's own pain blinded her to reason. What can you possibly say that would make this hurt any less?!

"Come here, please? I know you're angry with me, but..." Valen gestured for her to come, sweeping his good hand like flicking crumbs from an invisible table and nodding to the space beside him on the couch. "Please, Fang, you can be mad at me over here."

Her rage broke, and Fang stood with a cracking sigh. Damn it. Yes I'm mad, but I can still love him, can't I? Just for a little longer? And though her heart felt as if it was imploding, pressure in her chest and throat swallowing her like a snow-chasm, she moved to the couch and settled next to him. Valen wrapped his good arm around her stiff shoulders and pulled her close, his hand shaking. He told her he was sorry again. "Mm-hmm, I bet you are," Fang sniffed, then laid her head on his shoulder. "Glad you're okay though."

"Hngh. I'm sure I won't feel okay tomorrow."

"Yeah, well, you deserve it."

"Eyah..."  Valen gave a weak, tired laugh. "Yes, I do. Will you still be mad at me?"

"Probably." Fang kicked off her slippers and pulled her feet up on the couch, tucking them under the hem of her robes; Valen shuffled around a bit, turning his body more towards her and opening up additional space between his arm and chest. Fang settled in, wrung out and fuzzily exhausted – too many emotions in such a short span draining her to the point that she wanted rest and quiet above all else. Even her anger at him had dulled to a vague irritation, something she could ignore while she listened to the steady double-beat of his dual hearts. That she could listen to the sound at all seemed nothing short of a miracle, a wondrous boon from the Flame; coming so close to losing everything had made her realize she'd never really been safe from it to begin with, that she had more to lose now than when she'd had nothing but the scrap-lined shoes on her feet.

Valen nodded, his chin rubbing on her forehead; the tiny scales were barely rougher than her own palm. "I can live with that. Should I sleep on the couch tonight?"

"No." Fang didn't think she could stand it. "I want you where I can see you."

The Dragon Prince chuckled. "You're worse than Benna."

"Good. If I have to come looking for you, you'll wish Tias had killed you."

"I believe it." Valen's hand moved up from her shoulder to stroke her hair. "But you shouldn't have to worry about Tias anymore – I beat him, I claimed my right, it's done. It won't happen again, I swear it on my hearts." He punctuated his promise with a touch of his mouth to her hairline and Fang squeezed her eyes shut. I'll just have to be happy with this. He doesn't have to love me, as long as he keeps his promises. Perhaps loyalty would make an appropriate – if meager – substitute for love.

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Regarding a recent offline question: while The Dragon Prince's Consort is my own work and I do not give permission to copy, derive, distribute, sell or display, fan art is fine and in fact welcome (see STARFISH chapter titled Fan Art). What am I going to do, tell someone NOT to make art? That's crazy.