-Dareon Hallow-
After that day the castle seemed to dim. It was quiet all around, and seemed much darker, and only after two days did Dareon find out that it was because King Bathyl had died. Or was killed, to be exact.
Good riddance. Though death wasn't a welcoming thought, and there must've been people who suffered because of his death, there were many that Dareon knew who suffered when King Bathyl was alive.
Penny hadn't visited either, and he wondered if something happened other than the coronation ceremony of Prince Willim—King Willim now—that took up her time. Maybe it was the princess' fault, and Penny, who had no regard of the the princess' authority before, was actually driven away. People always talked about how different it would be to have a different king, how rules would change and how the air was different. For the past hours of continuous nothingness that Dareon had been experiencing, all he could think was that no, nothing was different.
Everything was bitterly the same.
At this moment, he missed nothing more than the forest and the fresh breeze he had grown up with.
When Lillian came by to collect the princess for the coronation, the girl refused to go. At this, Dareon scowled at her from his corner. His feet were sore and so was his arse from sitting in the same spot for endless hours because the princess never left the room. The fact she was there made Dareon less willing to walk around and loosen the kinks.
Now, she wasn't standing at her balcony, which she had shut. She had slept most of the day or had sat on her bed and stared at nothing, which wasn't much different from before, but this time she was in the center of the room.
It had been dreadfully quiet from her as well. When Lady Bane returned from her summoning to the late King Bathyl, her hands were covered in blood and she didn't speak. She was quiet as she sat on her bed and put her head in her hands, and Dareon winced, wondering if she'd rather have a bath first. He didn't offer.
It had been two days since the coronation.
Today, she had bathed, and now she was once again sitting on her bed, hair wet and messy, tangled worse than it ever was. Lillian was busy and wasn't there to attend her, though she was Lady Bane's personal handmaiden. Dareon found that strange, that the handmaiden was hardly ever present, though she was specifcally supposed to be serving the girl. He wished he could escape from the crazy princess just as often.
There was a knock on the door, and Dareon stiffened. He glanced over to the girl on the bed, expecting her to react to the guest that he wasn't going to answer himself. He hesitated, but still sat, unmoving.
The person knocked again. "Aleks?" A voice called quietly from the other side.
At the corner of Dareon's eye, he saw the princess stiffen, eyes widening in surprise. She pushed her hair from her face, and answered, "come in! I'm decent."
The door opened, but Dareon wasn't in the position to see who entered. He didn't lean forward to see who it was either. Instead, he bit into an apple that Lillian had given him before she left again, telling him to eat because he wasn't allowed to leave to collect any meals from the cooks. The princess had ceased all her own meal deliveries, and that meant Dareon's as well.
Great.
There was a silence. Then, "you didn't come to my coronation." King Willim stepped forward, crownless, and in casual breeches and a vest over a faded shirt, his sleeves rolled halfway up to his elbows. His light blond hair was pulled into a low ponytail and his sharp brown eyes seemed hooded with sadness, "I'm sorry to intrude, I heard you were ill. It also took me longer than forever to get rid of the Ambassadors and servants before I could even come here myself. They're like bees, y'know, with much less sting and more buzzing." The boy smiled sadly, "but it seems you're just up to your old tricks again, feigning illness to avoid the big events, Aleksandra."
Aleksandra, as was her name, for Dareon didn't really pay attention and just stared at the King instead of the girl that made his blood boil. She bowed slightly; it was a stiff gesture.
Dareon bit into the last part of his apple.
"Your grace, I apologize. I haven't been feeling my best, but I see you're in worse condition. Such a young king, your mother would be proud." The girl's voice was flat.
"Our mother," the King corrected, and Dareon couldn't help but feel as if he was intruding on some kind of special reunion. "And I know you don't think that way. I apologize for never telling you the truth, and you must hate me now... But my mother and father are gone, and though it may not be true, they were your parents for a while. And don't treat me with such courtesies and respect, you shouldn't have to. You are—though not through blood—my sister, and I would never change that. I'm also sorry for never visiting when you were in the Witch's Cage. To say that I was constantly overwhelmed with company would only be an excuse."
Dareon discreetly sat the apple core beside him. Throwing it out now would be rather awkward.
Aleksandra looked up at her 'brother', as Dareon would put it. "I'm sorry for not attending the ceremony, or visiting you once I was released," she said slowly. Then she lifted her arms up awkwardly, and to Dareon's awe, the King closed the door behind him and walked over to the girl, throwing a desperate embrace around her. She awkwardly wrapped her arms around him, a crooked, uncomfortable smile on her face.
Then something seemed to crack in her facade, and she pulled the king into a tighter hug. Dareon stared, slack-jawed at the spectacle. The girl was capable of that?
"He's dead," a muffled whisper came from the King who's head was tucked into the crook of the princess' neck. "And the last thing I told him was to sod off, that I didn't want to become King, and that he was leaving all this responsibilty to me, and—and that I hated him. I'm only seventeen for God's sakes, and now he's gone and he probably thinks I never loved him." The voice broke and sniffles suddenly emerged.
Aleksandra rubbed the boy's back, between his shoulder-blades, whispering softly, "you cry more often than I ever did. I take back what I said, Mother would never be proud of that."
This coaxed a laugh from the King who peered over Aleksandra's shoulder, gaze landing on the silent figure who had been sitting in the corner since the beginning. Dareon froze in the focus of the glare that was thrown at him. The striking brown eyes that the boy carried seemed to freeze him in place, and in a commanding voice the noble said, "leave us. I'd like to talk to my sister alone."
Dareon stood slowly and bowed before he forgot his courtesies, and said, "your highness." Aleksandra didn't even glance at him or tell the King that her servant wasn't allowed to leave because of her orders. She continued to talk to the King as Dareon stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He smiled, this is my chance. As the door clicked, he turned in the direction he thought was the exit, or at least the path that lead closer to freedom. After a few steps there was a sudden exrcruciating heat around his ankles. He cried out as he tripped over, falling to his knees, scraping the skin on his right hand.
He winced, looking down. The shackles around his feet tightened around his ankles, burning him, and another chain seemed to grow out of the metal and fix itself to the stone wall. It cracked and welded itself there, and the metal around his ankles seemed to finally cool. Tentatively, the boy reached out and pulled at the new chain, but there was resistance. It was completely fixed to the wall, and it wouldn't come off.
Dareon groaned, and pulled the chain harder, but hissed when a small piece of uneven metal cut into his left palm. He grit his teeth as he saw the shallow wound. He slumped against the wall and felt a rage bubbling in his gut. The witch. She did it again. She really wouldn't let him leave.
Why was this happening?
Out of anger, he hit the floor with his fist, pulling his knees to his chest as he screamed inwardly. He'd still be staying, and the corridor was utterly silent and cold. She was making him go through Hell, and she was utterly mental. If this was the punishment for not being able to protect Loran, he wasn't sure if he could take it anymore.
_______________________________
His eyes shot open, realizing he had fallen asleep. The corridor windows were dark, and in the distance Dareon could see the stars, twinkling in a vast darkness that everyone seemed to admire. It was still quiet. He blinked wildly until he focused on the figure in front of him, a dark silhouette with wild hair and glowing green eyes.
He pressed backwards into the wall, suddenly awake. Looking down, he saw that she was holding his left hand in both of hers, one small, scarred hand hovering over his. He tried to pull his hand away from hers, but she tightened her grip. The blood from his wound had dried on his skin.
"Wait," she hissed, whispering, "give me a second."
He persisted, but she looked up threateningly at him. This made him pause, causing him to stare at her as a strange curiousity took over. Her hand started shaking above his, and then it began to glow. This time, he really did try to get his hand away from her, but he kept his mouth shut, as if to keep the silence in the hallway.
Aleksandra's hand was very strong as it kept Dareon's wrist very still, and her face contorted into pain as she pressed her hand to his. It was warm. He stopped as his hand started to tingle and glow with hers, while it slightly stung, and for a moment he thought she was opening his wound even further. When he thought she was distracted, he ripped his hand from her grip, trying to see what she did to his cut. It didn't throb or sting at all, and for one, he couldn't see a thing in the darkness.
He heard a snap and a small flame hovered over Aleksandra's fingers, and even though it unnerved him, he looked at his hand in the glow of her magic. Nothing. No wound, no torn skin, not even a scar. There was only dried blood around where the wound had been. Surprised, he looked up and stared at the princess as she suddenly pulled at his feet, looking at his ankles from where the heated shackles lightly burned him. She placed both of her hands over them awkwardly and did the same thing to them as what she did to his hand.
When Aleksandra was done, Dareon peered curiously at his healed ankles, and at her. She stood, wiping at her knees, and stretching. She bent down and pulled at the chain attached to the wall, the one that kept him restricted to her room, and squeezed. The chain melted under her skin and broke apart.
"The scrape on your right hand will heal on its own," she said between gritted teeth as she pulled at his arm and dragged him back into her room. "I won't have you bleeding on my floor either."
Dareon was silent for a moment, "What did you do?" He asked, though it was obvious what she did, he just wanted to ask. He felt as if he had to.
She looked at him, face scrunched up, "are you dull? You saw enough. I couldn't let you leave so I added a new chain, nothing new. I wouldn't have an escaped servant on my hands. There's enough scandal about me."
"I wasn't talking about that," Dareon hissed. "What did you do to my hand?"
She ignored him and walked to her bed, her room lit up by the moonlight and several torches and candles, flickering light against the stone walls. In the back of the room shadows were cast, looming, tall, dark shapes that danced along the wall. It sent a chill down Dareon's back. He looked at the princess again. She squeezed her left hand tightly, and Dareon saw blood drip from her palm.
He grabbed her wrist and spun her, stretching her hand so he could see what was bleeding, and if his suspicions were correct. She wasn't wounded earlier, for all he knew, and the blood was fresh.
There was a cut. A similar cut to what was on his hand just moments earlier, and it wasn't just similar, it was exactly the same. If he checked her ankles, he was sure he'd find the burns that once belonged to him wrapped around her skin. He looked up at her, bewildered, and she ripped her hand out of his and growled at him.
"Why don't you do the same thing you did to my hand, to yours?" He asked quizzically.
The girl shook her head, "Because I can't. And wouldn't it be pointless? I heal much faster than you."
"Well, why can't you?" He persisted. Even though he didn't like her much, someone hurting in place of him was a mere guilty thought.
She spun and glared at him. "Witches and wizards aren't granted abilities to heal themselves, only other Wielders can heal me," she turned away again. "It's part of the curse. And it's such a small cut, I don't know what the point would be if in a few minutes the wound will close and it'll be done with. As I said."
But the scars will stay, Dareon thought, but didn't say it aloud.
Dareon's brows furrowed, "Then why'd you heal me?"
"The dragons told me to. I haven't seen them lately though, just heard them." She said, strolling stiffly to her bed, her face pink-ish from embarassment. Dareon felt even more frustrated than earlier. One oath of kindness, and it was all up to the dragons. "And why don't you address me correctly? It's m'lady or my lady, depending on how common you want to sound. 'Your highness' would be grande, and maybe even 'your grace'."
"Dragons," Dareon scoffed, ignoring her last comments, "dragons again."
She looked at him over her shoulder and glared, her eyes flashing, "What?"
"You sound deranged," he said easily, shaking his head, a smile of disbelief on his face. She growled and faced him completely, but he merely continued. "What? You need extinct dragons to tell you to do something kind? What are you? A child?"
Aleksandra's hand shot out, tensing in the air, and Dareon almost walked into it. Her veins started to shine, not blue this time, but white. He saw it pumping, and then he felt his knees being pulled to the ground by unseen threads. He cried out as he lost his balance, but his mouth went shut, but not of his own accord. His eyes widened. Aleksandra raised a finger to her lips, then pointed to her bed, where the King slept, curled up like a babe. His light hair was tousled and his clothes were twisted around him, even his expression was one of bliss.
"My brother's sleeping," she whispered, and when she read his expression she looked disgusted. "No, we didn't do that. You're disgusting. He slept over lots when we were younger, and as it seems the habit hasn't disappeared. He was such a scaredy cat." She grinned as she raised her other hand, her left one probably keeping him to the ground. Her right hand shone brightly and Dareon screamed silently as she moved it closer to his forehead. She smiled, "how dare you mock me, forester boy? I hope you enjoy your dreams. Boread would be glad to meet you, and mayhaps you'll regret that you didn't believe me."
Her thumb pressed to his forehead and his vision flashed white, then blackened. Dareon could feel himself falling forward, but his body didn't connect to the floor. He felt liquid splash over his face, and he was suddenly submerged in cool water, embraced by sunlight at his back. His eyes shot open at the sudden change of environment, beginning to flail, legs kicking wildly, and that's when he realized his shackles were gone.
Dareon peered upward, seeing sunlight shimmering over the surface of the lake he was in, and kicked himself up. When he broke through the surface, he was welcomed by the most beautiful sight.
He was in a lake in the middle of a valley, with tall, lush, green grass waving in the wind, glimmering where the dew reflected the warm sunlight that was right above his head. Trees, tall, filled with pink blossoms and fruits that were ripe and full, none having yet fallen to the rich earth. There were mountains in the distance, and the soft wind rustled his damp hair, chilling him as a smile broke out on his face. The forests in Wyvengard were nothing like this.
Mystified, he swam slowly over to the shore, a strip of white sand lining the island. Grains of sand warm and moist gathered beneath his bare feet and stuck between his toes. Rolling up his pants, he turned, looking upon this form of paradise that he'd never believed to see in places other than stories and in dreams. A gust of wind pushed at his back, like it was purposefully in his direction. He staggered forward.
An animal screech was heard from above, and he blinked out the sunlight as he looked up, seeing a dark figure that only looked shadowy against the sunlight. His eyes widened as the sillhouette descended, a large creature, maybe a third of the size of the castle in Wyvengard, landed on the ground, its wings catching the air beneath it.
It was covered in green scales that were tight against its body, though they bristled slightly as the beast shook itself. The large span of leathery skin, the beautiful wings, folded, clawed tips at the ends, tucking themselves against the body of the beast that Dareon had only ever seen stitched into tapestries and blankets, or in drawings in ancient books that he could no longer read.
It had two large horns on its head, slightly curved and pointing backward. The scales on the head were ridged and its neck long, with four fangs sticking out over the skin of its lips. Black eyes blinked at him curiously, and it yawned, a layer of skin stretching as its jaw gaped revealing a sharp tongue. Its nostrils flared as it watched Dareon stand on the beach.
If anything, he should've been running. There was an actual dragon in front of him, and he didn't feel any fear for it. He felt a surge of excitement at the sight of it, though it was hundreds of times bigger than himself. Yet, he felt like he knew it, and that was absurd since dragons were extinct and for sure this must've been a dream. Mayhaps that was why it was so familiar, it must've been all in his head. Aleksandra's constant talk of dragons must've affected him.
"I assure you otherwise, Dareon Hallow."
Dareon stared at the dragon, seeing that the mouth of the creature didn't open, and neither did he hear anything, but he couldn't help but feel the message was from the dragon. And he had told only few of his full name, yet this creature knew.
"What?" he bit his lip. "Did you... Did you say something?"
The beast shook its head, "No. I was just merely pointing out that Aleksandra's constant talk of me is not any cause of hallucination, but you are seeing me now. It was a rather difficult spell that I taught her, as she was most reluctant, but she has sent you into a state of spiritual liberty. That is why you see me."
"Why should I believe that? I could just be in denial, having wanted to see a dragon my whole life. Then a young girl who is conveniently a witch tells me that I had a dragon may have unearthed my childhood longing to believe that dragons exist."
At this, Dareon heard laughter that rumbled like an earthquake, then the dragon's eyes seemed to twinkle, "You are an amusing vessel. Sorry to destroy some dreams, but I am not yours, you are mine. I apologize for having ruined the relationship between you and Aleksandra, but I did try, but you were rather stubborn to convince of my existence. She wasn't the best messenger, I must admit. We did pick our vessels without knowing how you would all turn out."
"There's more of you?" Dareon asked, neck straining from the position it was in.
The beast nodded, "Of course. Four of us, to be precise. That is, four in this continent of Man. There is I, Boread, then there is Aleksandra's, Lorthrain. There is also Xarian and Horath, of Atlanta's and Lucan's."
Dareon's brows furrowed, "Atlanta?"
The dragon seemed to smile, "Excuse me, I meant 'Lillian'."
He found this all strangely much easier to accept, though it was coming from a monster from legends, "You're Boread?"
The beast lowered its neck, head nearly touching the tips of the blades of grass, "As always, I am the Winged Lord of the Earth and Forests, and you are Dareon Hallow, My King."
The boy's eyes widened, stepping backward, "King?"
The breeze picked up around Dareon, nearly lifting him off the ground. The sun was suddenly covered by clouds that shadowed the valley, and the dragon nodded, unfurling its wings, picking itself up off the earth with a beat at the wind, "You will understand in due time, but our time is up. We will meet again, here, another day, but let me tell you this isn't a real place. It's a spiritual plane accessed by those free of the bonds of consciousness. You may need Aleksandra to send you here again, but soon you will get used to coming here on your own. She is not responsible for sending you here countless times, or she may wither like a flower without the water of Earth."
Dareon could feel himself falling backward as the figure of the scaled beast flew into the sky, joining with the clouds that cluttered over the blanket of soft blue. Before the dragon was completely gone, Dareon screamed something into the air again:
"So she's not completely mental?"
He was answered in the rumbling laughter that resonated in the sky and the earth, and he was submerged in water again.
Dareon awoke on a bed with furs, not quite as long or as soft as the princess', but a cot that was pushed against the wall of the room that he had constantly occupied. He had no idea where it came from, but it was still the same chambers that he was told to never leave. All the other furniture was where he remembered, and even the King was in the large bed with a canopy of a deep red, this time sprawled rather than curled.
He sat up and turned his head, looking for the girl named Aleksandra, only to look down to see her resting her head at the side of his cot, her brows furrowed and her breathing haggard. She was pasted with sweat, her hair sticking to the side of her face, and her tunic seemed wrapped tightly around her as it was nearly soaked through.
She looked tired.
Dareon thought against it, but she must've been the one who got him the bed. Masters were the ones responsible for their servants, and no one else was allowed to give servants gifts, and maybe it was even the dragons who told her to do it. Even though she had put him through hell, and even though he wasn't quite willing to forgive her for every deed of utter madness, she must've been through her own hell.
However, that was no excuse to drag someone else into the depths of their lack of mentality.
He got off the cot, peered through the window, and realized it was just about dawn. He bent down and put one arm under Aleksandra's knees, and another under her back. Slowly, he lifted her up, realizing how heavy she actually was, before walking over to her bed and setting her down on it. She still looked like she was in a nightmare.
Absentmindedly, he brushed back the hair that hung over her face, and for a moment, she breathed calmly. In Dareon's opinion, that was much better than the mad expression she wore every hour of every day. A frown etched itself into his face at his own thoughts.
He must've been going mad.