Alcina can’t sleep.Try as she might, her mind races along with her pulse, her eyes blinking bright and wide up at the ceiling, long after Brendan has fallen to slumber beside her. For a while, she tries, clenching her eyes shut and trying to time her breathing along to Brendan’s.But something- something in her blood pounds.It feels like an itch, all along her skin, as though she were too large, suddenly, for her skin.As though something isn’t right.No.As though something is right.For the first time in her entire life, Alcina feels something settles.Something settled - and at the same time, like something has awakened, demanding payment in her blood, deep inside of her. From the center of her chest, something yearns to come undone. It feels like there’s a spark of electricity sizzling just underneath the surface.It makes her feel wound up.It nearly makes Alcina feel like she’s going to vibrate out of her skin.Finally, at two in the morning, she gives up.And she gives in. Sh
Brendan stares.And stares, and stares, and stares some more.He opens his mouth, but no words are forthcoming. Lord Brendan of House Warner is rendered completely, utterly speechless for the first time in his life. What is he supposed to say, in the face of his new intended, draped in a silken sleeping robe, clutching a pair of wriggling dragons to her chest? Dragons, which have been extinct - if they were ever real to begin with - for hundreds of years.Dragons, which have been mythologized and made into countless stories of lore throughout generations.Dragons are venerated and worshiped as gods in some parts of the world. Dragons are said to have, at one point, ruled all over the earth - the skies, the ground, the seas, and everything in between - when they roamed the continents as the primordial lords of the elements.Dragons.Now curled like tiny, affectionate kittens in Alcina’s lap, their tails wrapped possessively around her forearms, nipping for her attention at her fing
It takes an hour for that jittery, anxious sensation to subside; for Alcina to stop feeling like she's going to crawl out of her very skin.Brendan sits with her the entire time, the two of them hunched over like two commas on the floor, side by side, Brendan's hand a grounding touch on Alcina's neck.This foreign, out-of-body sensation that's taken over makes Alcina's blood pound to an alien rhythm, making her yearn for something she doesn't understand.Each time Alcina feels the panic swell again, she focuses instead on the cadence of Brendan's breathing, the firm weight of his thumb against her own pulse. Nearly an hour later, Alcina finally, finally feels herself coming down from the strange high.And as she relaxes, as she feels the tension bleed from her spine and her knuckles loosen from the white-gripped grasp they have around her own robe, the dragons, too, relax, uncoiling loosely from her arms. Until, eventually, they move from where they're curled tightly in her lap to t
It takes a long time for Alcina to manage to stop shivering, trembling like a leaf in Brendan’s arms.It helps that Brendan hasn’t stopped the soothing, sweeping strokes up and down her back, with one hand intertwined tightly in Alcina’s.It’s like this that the idea of Brendan and safety become slowly - inextricably - intertwined for Alcina.When she dares a glance up, peeking out from where she’s nestled against Brendan’s neck, Alcina sees the two small dragons staring back at her with unblinking, bright eyes.Alcina’s hand trembles again in Brendan’s hold. “Brendan,” she whispers. Brendan hums, low and calming. Enough that Alcina manages to swallow and part her lips to continue. “Are those- are they what I think they are?”Dragons.Brendan pauses, and Alcina senses that he, too, is glancing over at the two creatures curled up quietly in front of them.“Well,” he says slowly. “That would depend on what you think they are.”Alcina inhales.Holds her breath. Counts to three before re
As it turns out, Brendan was right.The two of them watch as the little dragons feed - a bit viciously and mildly reminiscent frighteningly- on the raw slabs of red meat Brendan had discreetly acquired from the kitchens.There isn’t really a way to explain why both Alcina and he would suddenly require raw, uncooked steaks to be sent to their rooms, so Brendan had had no choice but to slip in through the shadows like a common thief.Brendan watches, halfway torn between disturbed and intrigued, as the little dragons consume nearly their own weight in raw steaks.When Brendan glances upwards, Alcina still has that eerie, transfixed light in her eyes, the one that comes and goes as she seems to snap in and out of awareness of it, herself.As if she’s pulled in, by some otherworldly force of attraction, to the two creatures.Brendan glances now at the still-open chest, where he finds the shattered remnants of what he’d thought to be two gems - but had, apparently, been dragon eggs.Or wha
In all the lore on dragons Brendan's ever read, there has never been a trace of anything to suggest that dragons in any way communicated, let alone bonded, with humans.Brendan has read more than the average person, given that books had been his solitary escape from most of the world all his life – but this is all too surreal.There has never been a recorded instance of a human coming into contact with a dragon and having cited any sort of comprehensible interaction. Speculations, perhaps, on their behavior, but nothing to suggest that dragons would ever deign to interact with humans on any substantive level, beyond hunter and hunted. Both ways.Brendan briefly contemplates the idea that dragons - like other small, baby animals - have some sort of animalistic imprint nature ingrained in their biology.He contemplates that Alcina, being the first thing they'd seen, had been their idea of their mother.But even that seems dubious and unsatisfactory to explain the way the dragon's circ
That night, Alcina returns to Brendan's (their, her traitorous mind has already begun to call it) bed, the two dragons stubbornly affixed to each of her shoulders.Brendan thinks he ought to voice his doubtfulness when he catches the anxious, yearning light in Alcina's eyes. Then, all Brendan does is hand Alcina her silken sleeping eye mask from the nightstand.The tremulous smile Alcina grants him makes Brendan suppose that if he is burnt into a crisp in the middle of the night, well.There are worse ways to go.Thankfully, he is not burnt to a crisp in his sleep.When he wakes, he finds Alcina curled into his chest as usual. The two mini-hearths are curled against Alcina's back, their ridged spines brushing Brendan's arm and transferring a near-burning heat.When Alcina wakes next, eyes sleepy and still, instinctively seeking out first the dragons and then Brendan, Brendan grants her a soft kiss and a smile.* * * * * * * * * *Of course, as with all things in life: just as Alcina b
When Alcina wakes up, the fire is gone, leaving behind an ice-cold chill that makes her shiver as if it’s frozen her body inside out.First, she registers the light weight of the two dragons pressed against her head atop her pillow.And then, the hand still wrapped loosely in both of hers.She opens her eyes, right into Brendan’s gaze, staring right back at her.Brendan’s hand sweeps her hair out of her eyes, caressing her skin as he goes, and Alcina shivers.Alcina shifts close, curling inwards around Brendan’s hand, held in hers. She closes her eyes, afraid to open them again.She can still see the gruesome remains of the two men splayed across the bedroom floor. Hadn’t had the courage to open her eyes again to see the third corpse. Instead, she clenched her eyes shut and trembled her way into unconsciousness.“You can open your eyes now,” Brendan murmurs.“You don’t have to be afraid.” You don’t have to see. “Just close your eyes, darling.”Alcina’s lip trembles.She’s afraid.And
That afternoon, Alcina takes off for the Heartlands with Perseus to inform her family of House Warners’s decision, while Brandon remains behind to see Percy and Darla off.When Brandon makes his intentions known to the soon-departing lords of the Ranges, there’s hardly a pause before Percy shrugs.“Very well, then.”Brandon raises a brow. “Is that all?”Darla grins, razor-sharp and vicious. “I’ve wanted to gut those pathetic vermin for a while now,” she says as she stretches her neck, languid and incredibly dangerous.Conversational. “Ever since they reared their stupid heads and tried to act like lions instead of the prey that they are.”Ever since they managed to escape unscathed from the massacre of the wedding at the Heartlands, Darla’s been unsettled. Like a shark that smelt blood in the water, only to have lost its prey.Darla has the kind of bloodlust that won’t settle until she’s standing above the carcasses of her chosen prey.Percy merely smiles, as warm as an indulgent love
They say that Captain Lincoln of the Western Plains’ military is a man unmatched, for he carries with him the favor of the goddess of victory, herself.Stella thinks they might be mistaken.For watching him now - watching the way he leaps into battle with nothing but a sword and his gleaming armor, having stepped down from his steed because he does not wish to risk harm to his horse makes Stella think-He is the god.Stella wishes to never fight another day in her life and has loathed fighting and everything it means and entails, but even she cannot deny that Captain Lincoln in battle is nothing short of mesmerizing.What a frightening man, to make something that Stella loathes like no other, into something- strangely beautiful.Even as the other men under Lincoln’s command have charged in to engage the others in combat, Lincoln remains at the front lines of the conflict, a dancing hurricane flitting across the ground to leave devastation in its wake.He takes on two, three, five, eve
A figure has come to stand beside her, tall and broad and armor gleaming under the moonlight, white teeth sparkling in a roguish grin-“Commander?”It cannot be.But it is.Commander Lincoln stands before her with all the casual grace of a man out for a stroll, confidence is as alien as it is captivating on the shoulders of a person who stands on a battlefield and yet still somehow manages to look as though he is at home.Stella gapes at him.Lincoln smiles.“What- wh- what are, what are you-““The cavalry has arrived,” Lincoln announces grandly, cheerfully. Always so bloody incomprehensibly cheerful, how-“What?”Lincoln’s smile turns just an edge softer, for just a moment. He tilts his head backwards, and Stella swivels her head, only to choke at the sight of- of soldiers, several hundred of them, bearing the glorious banner of the Western Plains-Stella’s wide eyes must betray her stupor, for Lincoln drops gracefully to a single knee beside her.Stella’s stupor turns into a stilted
“And where were you, when this intruder managed to slip past our defenses?” Brandon drawls.“Sinking the edge of my blade into his stomach, my lord,” Lincoln replies.They share a grim smile.“I only regret that I could not do so sooner, before he had killed the serving girl,” Lincoln sighs. At that, Brandon’s expression darkens.Alcina had been near catatonic with grief.Ridiculous, in some ways, that a princess should have grown so attached to her servant that she’d mourn Mary’s death like so. But that ridiculous heart is Brandon’s.They’ve hurt what belongs to the Shadowed Beast, and penance will be forcibly wrenched by payment in blood.“They’d likely been searching for Alcina,” Lincoln says. “Or at least, any viable intelligence on her command of the dragons.”“Yes.” Brandon has been made all too well aware of Duke Albrecht’s interest in the dragons. An interest that had spanned years before Alcina’s ever came into the world, if that dilapidated fortress were any indicator.For h
Brandon emerges from their shared bedroom with keen intent in every step, cloak swirling behind him. Alcina remains in their room, curled along the window seat, Orion’s quiet rumbles bringing her whatever semblance of peace is possible.He pins a standing guard with a raised brow. “And where, pray tell,” he says. “Is Commander Lincoln?”The answer makes Brandon’s brow curve higher and higher on his forehead.* * * * * * * * * *Long before he becomes Commander Lincoln, the man they whisper to be graced by the goddess of victory, the man who leads the greatest military force in all the land to nothing but absolute triumph and glory, Lincoln was just a Lin, a penniless street urchin who’d grow up in an orphanage that had too many mouths to feed and too few beds.It’s been a long time since Lincoln was that skinny, trembling boy in rags with dirt smeared across his cheeks and an aching in his belly; a long time since he’s tasted anything but the sweet, euphoric taste of victory and iron
With a bloodthirsty vengeance perched on her shoulder in glittering hues of ruby red, Lady Alcina arrives back at the Western Plains to find the castle sunk deep in discord.Although nothing looks to be amiss, it is undeniable in the very tension that permeates the air, that something is wrong.As the two of them enter through the main doors, Alcina can see the flicker of trepidation in the gazes of every guard and attendant who welcomes them back home.Something has happened.“Brandon,” Alcina murmurs, and feels the weight of her husband’s hand pressed against her back in response.“I know,” Brandon says. He too has sensed the unease.Even Lincoln - who ordinarily would be the first to greet Brandon upon his return from any excursion - is glaringly absent.The party has long ended and the lavishly dressed throngs of attendees have long since waltzed out of the castle doors to their own homes. It isn’t odd, then, for the castle to be so quiet, given the circumstances.What is odd, how
The iron shackles laying at their feet, massive and heavy and bolted to the floor with chains so great that even in their rusted state, have not deteriorated in strength, were clearly once used to contain a beast of unimaginable size and power.A beast terrible - and fearsome - enough, to have warranted such an egregious means of constraint.Alcina’s hands - those gentle, kind things, soft to the touch for how few hardships they’d ever seen, so tender that they’d blistered and bled when she first began to take up swordplay, unused as they were to adversity - curl into fists, still resting against the ivory.Brandon watches as they curl so tightly that he fears Alcina’s nails may draw blood on her own palms, shaking - not with fear, but anger.That is when something new catches Brandon’s eye.Something that catches one of the scant few rays of light, flitting in from the broken doorway.Something that looks like a massive jewel, curved vaguely in the shape of an egg.Something nestled
Mary catches them just as Perseus dips his head low for Alcina to climb aboard.From beside him, Orion paws at the ground with an irritated snort, displeased at being left behind. But with Perseus’s darker scales, Alcina had thought it would grant them a far better chance at going unnoticed at all, in the inky blackness of the night.“My Lady!”Alcina turns, just in time to see Mary run up to her, her breaths visible in foggy clouds in the night chill. In her arms is a dark bundle, revealed to be one of Alcina’s warm cloaks, lined with fur. Mary heaves for air as Alcina turns to fully face her, having evidently run the entire way from the palace.“My Lady,” Mary says breathlessly, expression lined with worry as she holds up the cloak. “You cannot simply take off into the night without even a cloak,” she says, edging close to a reprimand.Even as that pull pounds with a vengeance in Alcina’s chest still, ever stronger now that she’s recognized the call for what it is, Alcina can’t help
Alcina catches Nordin's eye from across the room, and though her brothers are unable to extricate themselves from the political small talk they are caught in, they send her a warm smile nonetheless.She beams back, and something in Nordin's smile softens, ever so slightly, at the sight of the sheer happiness the Lord of House Warner has managed to put on their sister's lips.When Brandon had suddenly declared a ball at the week's end, he and Alfred had shared a momentarily skeptical look. But then, Alfred's eyes had dawned with recognition, and he'd stifled a quiet laugh into his hand. Had, as Nordin demanded what was so funny, explained-It would seem that the great beast is entirely bewitched by our willful little sister.And Nordin had felt his own lips twitch into a helpless smile in turn, at the frankly ridiculous lengths it would seem the Lord was willing to go to if it would bring a smile on their little sister's lips in such dire times.Brandon leans down to ask if Alcina woul