"I swear to the Flame, if you ever do that again I'll tie a knot in your tail!" Fang's voice, hoarse from crying, still had a sharp edge as she stood before the couch with her fists on her hips, loudly admonishing the bruised and scabbing Drass sitting there. It did make her feel a little better to shout at him after that awful duel with Tias. "And after that, I'll twist your ears and knock those horns right off your head! You could have died, Valen! And then where would I be?" Valen kept his head down, and when he protested he did so meekly with one eye swollen almost completely shut and his nose plastered with thick, stiff tape; he looked as awful as she felt.
"But, Fang, if I didn't–"
"I know what would happen if you didn't, but that doesn't mean I can't still be pissed at you!"
Though his bodyguard sat in the nearby high-backed chair by the fire, Benna kept out of it and instead occupied herself with waiting for her tea to cool on the mantle; the palace physician Mayra quietly wrapped Valen's wrist into a splint between nervous glances at Fang.
"Fang, please," Valen held his good hand out, "he won't bother us anymore now! I had to do it, he challenged me!"
"I'm going to challenge you if you do something like that again!" In her corner Ben covered her face with her hand and shook with silent laughter. "Don't you dare think I won't, Valen Drassian, because I will!"
"Erm, I don't recommend it," Mayra finally – but very cautiously and politely – broke in. "Not with this wrist, Your Grace."
Fang's chin jutted out as she shot Valen a look of pure ire. "His wrist is going to be the least of his problems if he doesn't behave himself." She felt all blazing fury, her face colored abnormally red and her dark eyes sparking, but her heart still ached from the fear of losing him so close to their goal. Fang masked her fear with desperate wrath as if yelling at him would distract her from the horrible possibility; each time she thought of where she might be now if Valen hadn't beaten his brother her eyes threatened to sting with tears again. I'd have all my clothes and jewelry, but I wouldn't have him. She would give up all the gorgeous robes, stunning gowns, warm meals, hot baths and soft beds with their piles and piles of quilted silk on Anun – nothing was worth losing him.
"Hngh," Mayra began to pack away her things, "leave the splint on for the next two days, I'll be back when the swelling goes down to put a proper cast on it." She stood and bowed to Fang. "With respect, My Lady, His Highness will need to keep his wrist elevated for a few hours to keep the bruising to a minimum – please don't attempt any vigorous activity that might stress the arm."
"That means no more duels, then?" Ben suggested from her corner; her tea had finally cooled enough to drink and she sipped at it fastidiously with raised brows.
Mayra shook her head solemnly. "None whatsoever. I will leave some medication for the pain, but it will make you sleepy so try to wait until later this afternoon to take it. If you feel more pain than you think you can bear, call me."
"Thank you, Doctor." Fang bowed her head, her eyes still trained on Valen and sore from her earlier tears. She wanted a bath and to crawl into bed, so exhausted she was from the morning's horrific fight between brothers, but she feared that if she let him out of her sight Valen would somehow disappear. Any moment she expected to blink and find herself back in the training gym, screaming as the Drass she secretly loved slipped out of life; that he'd somehow survived Tias's beating still had her heart reeling. Mayra left the suite, and for a few moments the only sounds were the crackling hearth and Benna's delicate cup tinkling on the mantle as she set it aside to keep warm.
Fang began to pace the thick rug before the fire, occasionally rubbing at her raw eyes and trying to convince herself that this was the real outcome, that she wouldn't come out of a faint at any moment to find Valen dead on the canvas mats with his head smashed in. She could still see the blood spraying from his nose as Tias smashed his cheek with the flat side of the mock halberd, the sticky, dark fluid dribbling down his chin and dotting the floor; her stomach turned and she set her hand to her throat – they hadn't stopped for breakfast before returning to the mountain, but Fang didn't think she'd be able to stomach anything.
"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.