The Wyrmslayer and the Fire-Blooded Queen [1x1]

Wyrmill is startled. He takes a shirt moment to process what Mirikir said. The young girl had an abundance of energy. Wyrmill had a lot less energy in his old age. His wit was quick, but his senses were not. By the time he yelled at her, "Be careful," she was already gone. With a sigh, he gathered the items she bought and continued his search through the town for any more hidden dragons.



Meanwhile, Oriqwen's face grew sour. "I'm fine, Armant. Please, just let me be."

Oriqwen removed his prince's crown, which wasn't nearly as fancy as his mother's, and tossed it aside onto his bed. He stepped towards the window and rested his head on its sill. "Tell me how things are outside the castle. Have yiu been in the town recently?"​
 
Armant scowled. He hated it when Oriqwen locked him out. He wanted to help his master. Sometimes he could; sometimes he couldn't, but he was stubborn. He leaned against the stones to the right of the window and crossed his arms. "Yeah sure, I went out yesterday to see my sister," he said in an off-hand manner. "Does it have to do with the reason the Queen summoned you? Word around the castle is that its' a wizard and his apprentice."


((I'm going to leave Mirikir for the moment since she climbing at sunset and they are talking at noon.))
 
"I wouldn't put much faith in rumors. That wizard is chasing rumors. Look where it has gotten him. He might as well be chasing will-o'-the-wisps." The prince gazed out the window and into the town below. He began to point his finger out into the air. His finger traced the lines of buildings that could be seen from his room. His finger stopped upon reaching a set of gold robes and graying hair. The prince's hawk eyes indentified them as the wizard who was in his mother's throne room moments prior. Next to him stood a girl im blue robes, who quickly darted off into town. The man in gold continued a slow stride and began chatting with the residents of the castle town.

Trembling arrived in the prince's voice as he said, "Rumors can hurt people. I'm sure that this wizard is already spreading them. Dragons aren't real. A dragon is anything or anyone the dragon killer wants it to be." The trembling traveled to his hands, which he quickly drew to himself.

"In your case, the rumors aren't wrong. That man isn't here to fight a menace. He's here to fight us. Armant..."

The prince stoof up from the window and closed his eyes. He adjusted his countenance to a more princely manner. His mother wouldn't approve of a slouching, sulking, sullen prince. He spoke again. His posture was solid, his eyes were cold, and his voice was stone. "You didn't hear those words. We didn't have this conversation. We were talking about your sister, Armant."

((Am I assuming too much of the queen? Is she kind or strict? In either case, Oriqwen believes her to be strong and serious, and to never show fear.))​
 
((You're spot on. :) ))


Armant's eyebrow cocked. Did Oriqwen know that Armant knew he was a dragon? Did he didn't, he came awfully close to spilling the secret. Maybe it wouldn't be long. Armant didn't like hiding that he knew. It was a secret that kept his friend at a certain distance that could be filled, even if the gap of Armant's stature as a servant were still there.

Anyway, Oriqwen didn't want to talk about it. And if he was going to be stiff, Armant could return the favor. Hopefully that would relax his friend. He stood straight and bowed slightly. "Yes, Your Highness -- we were. She is well, thank you for your concern. Nemerte has been rather busy with our sick mother, so that is why she was in town instead of working here."

Armant subconsciously reached up and began fiddling the the long hair at the base of his neck. He had the nervous habit of messing with his hair. His uptight mood, intended to make the Prince relax, dissolved in his concern for his sister. "She... she's not been doing well. Apparently there has been some hassling toward her from some guards here. She is pretty and..."
 
"If she's pretty, what's keeping guards from taking advantage of her? Is it nothing? If it is nothing, then what do you want to be done?"

Oriqwen quickly spun around to face Armant, creating a wave of dark locks to come crashing down onto his face. Drawing them aside, he gave a dark glare towards the servant. His face made a valiant effort towards emulating his mother's face. However, his face's features created an adorable pout rather than a royal glare. Regardless, he continued his point, matter-of-factually, "What do you want me to do? Surely, you're not requesting I use my authority to tell a couple of guards to stop catcalling a maiden. That is an issue to take up with your superior. Or my mother, if you're much more daring. Whatever you want from me, you shouldn't stutter. Speak the speech trippingly if you wish to request something of royalty, but be confident in your words."​
 
Armant's back slowly straightened, and he glared down at the Prince. Sometimes be wondered how he and the dragon boy were even friends. "I wanted nothing, Oriqwen. I thought you would know me better than to think I would try to take advantage of my master. I know there is nothing to be done. I was merely answering your question." Armant bit back the continuation 'if you didn't want the answer, then why did you ask the question?' He bowed again. "May I go?" He needed to leave before he lost his temper and yelled at Oriqwen. That would not go well -- he knew from experience, unfortunately.
 
"You may not have asked for anything directly," the prince replied, "but you might as well have been. Communication is more than just words. Your tone, your eyes, and the way you stand all say something your words can't. The difference between you and me is that I have been trained to notice these things. I'm not faulting you for it, I'm simply helping you inprove. Now, if you want something, boldly say it. If you do it right and ask for something just, I won't be mad.

"Do you eant me to move your sister's position to where she won't be harrassed by guards?"​
 
Armant bit the inside of his cheek. Did the prince mean it? He doubted it.

He raised his chin and opened his mouth, then ducked his head and closed his eyes. He had to try. "Your Highness, there is no place she would not be harassed, but if you can consider a position that would keep her safe and place her in it, I would be in your debt." Then he made a face and looked to the side. In the prince's debt? He was his servant. He would have to do anything that Oriqwen wanted, anyway.

-------

Taimattus, Queen of Malnor, rolled her long nails over her throne's arms, the clicking audible to everyone in the room, including the peasant and his wife that knelt on the stone before her. Her other arm supported her chin as she leaned to one side.

As the peasant went on and on about the raiders that had destroyed his farm, Taimattus's teeth ground slightly, though that wasn't audible. When would this fool be done? She needed to speak to come people--well, some creatures about the nuisance that had entered her Throne Room an hour ago. The girl would be no problem, but that Wizard... He was powerful. Still, it wouldn't be too hard to end him. Not with who she could command.

But, oh, if this peasant would finish! She severely regretted her pronouncement that she would be seeing her subjects to listen to their "problems" that day. This would be the last one, she would insure that.

She interrupted the silly man finally and said harshly: "Well? What do you expect me to do?"

The peasant stared at her. "Your Majesty, maybe you could send some of your great soldiers to stop the raiders."

Taimattus raised one thin eyebrow. "For one farm? Come back to me when these raiders are an actual problem. Now leave."

The peasant gaped. "Majesty, please! I have children! And the raiders will return and take everything that is left! Can't you do anything about it?"

The queen stood sharply and the peasants flinched. "Yes. I can do something." Her voice was ice cold. "I can have you killed so you won't have to worry about the raiders. Would you prefer that?"

The wife fell back from her knees and her back landed on the floor, her legs folding beneath her. The husband cried out and shuffled on his knees to his wife. Then he looked back up at the queen. He had tears in his eyes. "P-Please."

"Guards!" shouted the Dragon, her eyes locked on the man's, not allowing him to look away. "Make their children parentless."

The man screamed and crawled to the queen, clutching at her gown's edge. "PLEASE!"

Taimattus grimaced and kicked the man, him flying a few feet and landing at the feet of the guards who had come to drag he and his wife away. Two guards gripped the man's arms and began dragging him backward. Two others went to the wife, who had fainted when she heard the queen's verdict.

"Make it quick. Make it quiet. And do it in the Torture Chamber. No one will question the blood there."

Once the four guards were gone, Taimattus shook out her gown and took a deep breath. Peasants were so disgusting. She went to a window and gazed out at the sun letting, the light strike her directly in the eyes. How pleasurable that was.

After several moments she turned and strode out of the room, brushing away the guards that tried to go with her.

She went deep into the castle, deeper and deeper, until the chill made her shudder. But there was no stopping. Finally she reached a door at the bottom of a set of steep stairs. Taking a key that only she was allowed to touch from somewhere, she slid the obsidian into the nearly invisible key hole, turned it, and pushed the door open. It was darker than a moonless night where the stars were scared to shine inside. She entered and walked into the darkness, it almost thick and hard to wade through. It pressed in from all sides. Tangible darkness.

Most everyone would have been startled, even scared to step into the black, but the queen knew what it was. Light at rest was strange to walk through. She pushed on, and when she was walked maybe a dozen feet the darkness suddenly changed. Specks so tiny they were nearly impossible to spot began to swirl about her. Slowly the specks grew and more appeared. Taimattus stopped moving and let the light awaken. At first the light wasn't too bright, but suddenly the specks spread like wildfire in tongues centering around her. By the time all the light was awake it was so bright that a human would not have been able to see.

But the queen was no human.

She looked around the room, at the piles of sticks and pedestal holding one tome proudly. A crevice in one corner held a shallow dip full of water. Bowls full of earth were set in shelves built into the stone wall. A low platform squatted gloomily in the middle of the room. Two small indentions were the only marks on the smooth surface.

Taimattus walked to the piles of sticks and chose three. After she fit two of them in the indentions and had the third balanced on top she retrieved a bowl of dirt and dipper of water from the pool. The pool silently refilled. Smearing some dirt on the sticks and sprinkling water over the whole thing, she spoke a spell from the tome. It was a very old spell. The words rose in a dizzying rush from her stomach and tingled on her tongue and lips as they rolled out. When the final word was said she stepped back and spoke a name.

The space between the sticks turned white, then revealed a scene in a forest. A... creature was crouched over a panther lying on its side. The side of the panther had been torn open and the creature was gorging itself on the cat's innards.

Taimattus felt her gut twist when she saw the blood, but she held back her nausea and said the creature's name. The creature looked up from its feast and locked eyes with the Dragon. Different from the rest of his appearance, his eyes, shockingly human, were discomforting. His gore covered mouth spread in a smile and his pointed teeth, which dripped blood, snapped a few times.

"Hello, Queen." His voice was raspy and surprisingly high for his bulk. He stood straight, about five feet, seven inches and adjusted his pants, the only clothing he wore aside from a thick belt slung over his chest which held the massive scabbard of his sword. He brushed back his long black head-hair with bloody hands and smoothed the long orange hair on his arms, chest, and face down, only spreading the blood already there around.

"If I'd known you were coming I would have cleaned up a bit." He began licking the blood from his arm with a forked tongue. After a few moments of this he looked at the Dragon and raised his eyebrows. "Uh, can I help you?"

The queen had been staring in horror at the blood on his body, but shook herself out of it without moving and forced a smile. "Yes. You can. A nuisance has appeared in my kingdom and I need it dealt with."

The creature picked his teeth with one claw and, while gazing at a lump of flesh speared on his aforementioned claw, he said: "Oh, so the great and mighty Dragon can't deal with her own problems. Again. Tell me," he popped the flesh in his mouth and chewed, "what is it this time? The water not hot enough in your bath? The food not to your liking? You can always share my kill." He gestured at the body on the ground and grinned as the queen recoiled. "Anyway, what is it?"

The Dragon swallowed away her nausea and looked away from both the tore apart beast and the creature. She looked up at the trees crowns around her. "Where's Nashua and Silra?"

The creature looked around and shrugged. "Dunno. They were just here a minute ago. Maybe you scared them away."

The queen crossed her arms. "You and I both know that they aren't that easy to scare. Is there a place of living nearby?"

The creature shook his furry head. "Nope. Maybe they decided to do something stupid to each other."

"Go find them."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me--go find them and bring them here. I need to speak to all three of you."

The creature started to bend back down over his kill. "You find them," he grumbled.

The queen cried the creature's name and he flinched. "Do you have to?" he whined. "You know that hurts."

Taimattus smirked. "Go on, then. Find them and bring them here."

The creature growled and stood again. He gabbed a finger at the queen. "If the True Name thing worked for Dragons and not just my race you would be under my control in a second."

Taimattus sneered. "You really think I would have told you my name if it applied to me?"

The creature swore at her and stomped off into the trees. The queen tried not to look at the carcass, but it was hard. When the creature returned he was followed by a young woman and man.

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(Ignore her ears. She's human.)
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Once they were gathered in front of the queen, Taimattus explained her plan. There were some snorts. A few grumbles. Some laughter. And finally the four nodded at each other and the Dragon closed the viewing screen.
 
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As the sun began to bleed into a passionate orange, Wyrmill was surprised to see his apprentice suddenly appear and dash away with little to say. "We have dinner soon, Mira," he tried to say. The mage-in-training had already began her ascent of the castle walls. He furrowed his brow and sighed. He weighed his options mentally.

On one side of the scale, this plan was incredibly dangerous for many reasons. She could fall or be spotted, both of which could cause trouble. On the other side, this was a chance ti let her explore, and perhaps find more information on the queen and her son.

From beneath his robes, inside a pouch, he produced another old tome filled with ancient runes. Quietly he spoke, pointing a finger towards Mirikir, "DISLUMOS." To the normal people of the city, the wall of the castle would show naught but shadow beneath the inky darkness. However, a pair of silver eyes gazed down from a room above. Wyrmill placed the tome back within his hidden pouch and entered the castle to prepare for their nighttime meal.

Meanwhile, Oriqwen, gazing out upon the city longingly, catches a glimpse from the corner of his eye. His nose darts down towards the wall beneath his window. The scent of something crinkled his nose, but his eyes found nothing but darkness. "Armant, can you come here a moment?"​
 
In the semi-darkness, Mirakir was having trouble seeing the stones of the wall in front of her. She was an excellent climber, but without much light to see by, her progress was a great deal slower than she would have liked. The spiteful wind, willing to see anyone fall--for it had not seen something so exciting in so long, seemed determined to blast her off the wall. But Mira clung on, her hair flying and striking her face like the strands wished to be whips one day.

The chill bit into her through her uniform, and she dreadfully regretted leaving her cloak so far below her. The cold quickly made her nose run, and her frequent sniffs made the whole situation more annoying.

But the girl was stubborn, and she never gave up. Giving up wouldn't really have worked anyway, because doing so would mean letting go of the wall and that... was never going to happen. So on she went, peering quickly into each window she drew close enough to see into. She wasn't quite sure what she thought she would find. The prince might be in a room on the other side of the castle, or in a room not part of the edges. But she had to believe in her rash decision and find some way to make this work.



Armant, who was in the hall outside the prince's chambers, didn't hear Oriqwen's summons, and preceded to walk away.




Mirakir saw a window coming up and her heart let out a great sigh. She had determined that even if the next accessible room didn't contain her quarry, she needed to go in and rest. Her head rose above the window sill and she gasped.
 
A sudden gasp stole the prince's attention. He saw a head peek out above a windowsill. He cried out in surprise. "YOU, GIRL, WHAT ARE YOU..."

Quick to gather his composure, he wiped his face clear of surprise. He reached over the edge of the windowsill and offered a gloved hand to the wizard's apprentice. With his voice more hushed, he spoke to her. "Stupid girl, grab my hand. You're going to die if you're not careful."​
 
Mikakir made a face and didn't take his hand. "I made it this far, didn't I?" She sniffed. "I'm not going to fall." She sniffed again, glanced at his proffered palm with revulsion, and hauled herself over the rim of the window. She got her legs over and sat there, looking down at him. She smiled.

And sniffed.

"And I'm not 'girl.' My name is Mirakir. It's very nice to see you, by the way. I was getting a bit cold out there and I'm glad I don't have to look any further." She hopped off the sill and set her hands akimbo, beaming.

She inhaled deeply, trying to suck all the moisture so high that she wouldn't have to sniff again.
 
Stone cold eyes watched the wizard-in-training hoist herself over the windowsill. A warm breath whistled out the prince's nose. A chilling breeze blew through the window. Every muscle in his face strained. A sound came from Oriqwen akin to the groaning of a metal pipe groaning under the stress of much weight.

His pipes bursted into a raucous laughter. His princely posture doubled over. Wiping tears from his eyes, he addressed his intruder calmly, "Mirakir, you are a ridiculous human. My mother must be paranoid. If you're supposed to be an assassin sent to kill us, you're not doing a very good job." The prince moved to sit on his bed and returned the mage's expression with a melancholy smile. "You have no idea how happy I am for my mother to be wrong."​
 
Mirakir started to glare at his laughter, then her mouth fell open and she stared, askance, at the prince. "Assassin? What in the world? Your highness, we're Dragon hunters. We aren't here to kill you, or the queen! That is," she gave an exaggerated wink, "unless you're a Dragon. Then I'd have to kill you post hasty pudding and report back to my master that the Dragons that we have been searching for we're none other than the two hardest people to kill in the entire kingdom! Alth0ugh, I'd have already killed you." She shrugged, grinned, and trotted over to the bed. She sat next to Oriqwen.

"No, I'm just here to make friends! You looked so sad when I saw you in the throne room that I was sure you were lonely and needed a friend. I know climbing along the outside of the castle in an unconventional means of travel to find new friends, but I didn't think any guards would have taken me to you."

She bounced slightly on the bed and her eyes lit up. "Wow! Plush!" She bounced a little more and laughed out loud. "Amazing! I don't think I've ever been on a bed so soft and springy!"

She looked at the Dragon boy. "I'm super glad you aren't always like you were in the Throne Room. I thought I would have to teach you how to laugh! Laughter is healing for the soul, and I thought your soul would be bruised and scratched and nasty stuff." She grimaced, then grinned. "But I don't have to worry about that!"
 
"Well, then you are never going to kill me. Dragons don't exist, so I can't be one," Oriqwen lied boldly, and then teased, "but even if I was, I wouldn't tell you. Both of our caretakers must be paranoid. I'm sorry to tell you, but your teacher may be a stark raving lunatic with a magic book."

Oriqwen sat on the bed beside her and returned her gaze. "You really are strange. Are you of common birth? Never felt a proper mattress? That lunatic should take better care of you. My mother says a woman should always be treated like royalty."

Several warnings and lessons from Wyrmill about falling into complacency and comfort might come to Mirikir's mind.
​
Alex Azure said:
"You asked me to make you a wizard, not a princess. If you wanted to be treated like a princess, then go marry a prince..."
Click to expand...
 
Mirakir wrinkled her nose and didn't smile when the prince said that Dragons didn't exist. She knew for a fact that they did. And not just because Wyrmill had told her. What other reason could she have for having a Dragonhunter for a master? She had seen a Dragon. She had seen it disappearing into the horizon, leaving behind a demolished city. Her best friend in the whole world had lived in that city, as well as the girl's brother, who Mirakir had set her heart, mind and soul on becoming the wife of one day.

The females of her best friend's family had survived because they had been sent away early to escape the danger along with most of the women, and all of the elderly, young and children. But the father and brother had stayed behind to try and help kill the Dragon. Their bodies had been found in the rubble once the Dragon had gone.

Mirakir did more than try and comfort her friend--she mourned as well. A year later Mira found the opportunity to use her magic in effort to destroy all Dragons. She became the apprentice to Wyrmill and never regretted her decision, no matter how her master was short with her or the near unending travel wore on her.

But Mirakir wouldn't contradict the prince. Not this early in their friendship. Her frown deepened even more at the prince's insult to her master, but she said nothing.

Mira flopped back on the bed and wiggled a little, enjoying the smooth sheets. She grinned at Oriqwen. "Yep. I'm a commoner. And even at home, before I became Master's apprentice, I didn't have a bed this fine. We always stay in inns when we stop places, and those beds are nothing compared to this.

"Being treated like royalty would be nice, but that can't happen in my current lifestyle. We never settle for long in any one place. We stay as long as we must to find and kill whatever Dragon we are after, then leave again in search of our next mission once the monster is dead."

Then she sat up with a teasing smile on her lips. "What, did you think I was born a noble?"
 
"Well, to be honest, you were do beautiful, I thought you had to be royalty. I was worried your naster has stolen a princess from her castle and taught her forbidden magic. Of course, stealing princesses is what a dragom does in fairy tales. A dragon would ne unwise to steal away a dragon hunter."

Oriquen laughed and smiled again. His voice was full of warmth, literally and physically. He didn't notice Mira's disdain at his comment earlier.

"Anyway, you said you were trying to make friends. Have you had experience making friends before?"​
 
((OHMYWORD ORIQWEN YOU FLIRT))

Mirakir's eyes went wide and she grew speechless at the prince's words. Heat suffused her cheeks and she quickly looked away, down at the floor. The floor was certainly more interesting than the prince that had called her beautiful. Yes, yes. Far more interesting.

...

Nope. The floor was the floor, and Oriqwen, Prince of Pyranny, and possibly one of the most attractive young men she had ever seen-- Suddenly her Master's words came to her:

"Lust is a fatal sin for wizards, Mira."
Click to expand...

Mira forced herself to swallow and let out a watery laugh. "F-Friends! Yeah! Friends! Just us, just friends! You and me! Mirakir the Dragonslayer and O-Oriq-qwen--" she was having trouble saying his name. WHY WAS SHE HAVING TROUBLE SAYING HIS NAME?

Suddenly, she was sitting too close to him, and she hopped up and sprang a few steps away. Furiously running her hands through her hair--a nervous habit that she didn't do very often because she was hardly ever nervous--her mind flailed like a fish thrown up onto a ship's deck. "Uhhhhhahahauhhhh..." She wasn't looking at him. She couldn't look at him.

Seriously, though, what was the big deal? She had been called beautiful before! And by one of the male species that wasn't her father, too! So he was a prince, big deal! She was here for a job. That job was to find and kill the Dragon polluting this area. She had no time for romance. Besides! Anything between him and her would be wrong on many levels! He is to marry a princess!

WAIT WHERE DID MARRIAGE COME FROM. STRANGE, STRANGE WORD. IT NEEDED TO GO.

Mirakir let fly a shuddering gasp, then tried to manage it by breathing out slowly. She gradually turned around, a smile that bared all of her very white teeth and looked very painful pressed forcibly onto her flushed face.

"I've made friends before. Why do you ask?"



((BOY THAT WAS FUN TO WRITE. XDXD))
 
"I ask because I don't have a lot of experience making friends. The two I have are basically ordered to be my friends. I'm glad to have them, but I find it difficult to open up to them."

Oriqwen's tone grew somber. "And if you're looking for anything more, I wish you luck. Kings have come to the castle offering their daughters and demanding dowries. My mother has rejected them all. So, if you're looking to be more than just a friend, Dragonslayer..."

Mirakir might have heard Oriquen whisper some ancient words underneath his breath. They sounded similar to the ancient tongue Wyrmill always spoke. Was the prince trying to charm her, as if he hadn't already doe so? He turned to her, returning his bright smile beneath dark princely robes. He said, "You'll need to be able to keep a secret."​
 
Panic, cold, flaming, itching, screaming panic gushed through Mirakir as Oriqwen spoke. Of course she wasn't looking to be more than friends! She didn't even know him! He had started it!

Then a strange feeling washed over her.

It was subtle... or was it earthshaking?

Mira really couldn't tell. All she could tell was...

"What's the secret?" She could barely hear the words coming out of her mouth. Not only because they were so quiet, but also because Oriqwen's words were so important.
 
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