The Dragon King's Bride

Chapter 4 : Unhappily So

Zofia's head was heavy after the meet. She wanted to lay down and just gather her thoughts. Everything was happening so soon, and she felt utterly lost. Her life was not meant to head into the direction it was currently headed in, she was sure of it. She shifted uncomfortably as the room cleared out and she was left alone with Draegon staring down at her. He moved over and offered his hand to her. She hesitated. He had never done this before. She had resigned herself to getting used to being grabbed, manhandled, pinned in place. She took it slowly and carefully. Zofia stared up into his eyes and made sure that he was wanting her hand before she delicately slipped it into his. He pulled her up to her feet without warning. Zofia gasped, sure that the pain would soon follow. He simply stood with her hand trapped in his. He was being careful with her for a change. 

"You look nice." He said stiffly. She bowed in thanks. "I assume you do not mind that I put you in your bed last night." Draegon told her. She hadn't known. She hadn't realized. Her face turned red, out of anger and embarrassment. How could he do that? There were women in the castle who could easily have done the job.  

"Thank you." She said reluctantly. He was staring down at her like she was going to be stolen from him. Zofia did not understand it at all. He reached around her head and tangled his fingers into her hair. She pushed against him as he pulled her closer. She stood with her temple pressed to his jaw. She had put her hands on his chest, still pushing against him. He was inhaling her scent again, deeply so. 

"I bathed." She told him, needing him to know that before he accused her of smelling again. He nodded at her.

"I can still smell you." He told her. Zofia looked at him with an alarmed expression. What on earth did he smell, from her? She wanted to push against him. Panic rushed into her chest, but she suppressed it by convincing herself that she had in fact washed everywhere. 

"I don't know what you smell." She tried innocently, giving him a frown. 

"Hmm." He hummed thoughtfully, as if he was glad for the opportunity to tell her exactly what he was inhaling off her skin. "Your purity." He said, as if that was it. Zofia reddened. He could smell that she was a virgin? How dare he smell her virtue? "That, and vanilla, maybe a hint of mint?" He questioned her. She nodded, unsure of what else to do.

"Now that it's been settled." She said, pushing against him. He didn't let her move. She tried again, giving him a hard look. He was clearly not done. Zofia swallowed, wondering what he might do. There were many things running through her mind, like him possibly raping her. It was not as if he cared much for her, after all. How could she even chalk that up to 'possibly.' He clearly only wanted her to bring forth an heir.

"Berries... honey... purity..." he softened a little. Zofia didn't know what to do. She relaxed a little more as well and stared at his chest instead of at his unreadable face. 

"You, your highness, smell like oak and... ash." She told him, as if they were playing a game where they told one another what they smelled like. She had no idea what virginity smelled like, though she was sure with the rumors of him sneaking women into the castle, he didn't have that smell that she had.

"Ash." He mimicked flatly. He drew his lips into a tight line as he let her go. "Ash." He repeated to himself softly before he turned and started off. Zofia's mouth opened, trying to interject, to stop him, but she couldn't form the words needed. Why would she want to stop him anyway? He was an asshole, a brute. 

"Ash!" Zofia complained to herself, aloud. She was all alone and felt like a tantrum would go unnoticed. "Yes, ash! Ask me what I mean, or if I like it before you get all... angry." she kicked at the doorstop. A guard looked at her, as if he was disapproving of her behavior. The guard put his hand on the doorknob just as Zofia was about to do it herself. She groaned in frustration, remembering that she wasn't even allowed to open a door now, as if that would lower her slave-born status even more. Regardless of how she became the queen, she was still born in a little shack that she called home.