[Millicent]
I hate him.
Right now, there isn’t a single part of my body that doesn’t hate him.
What was he thinking, bringing those horrible men into this keep? Every single one of them represents a handful of memories that I’d rather forget, parts of my life that I had to endure. Seeing them like that, having him demand that I tell him how each should die, sent me right back to those moments to live once again. I know that he sees me as insignificant, I am only a human, and the lowest of them, and he is a dragon prince. He has no reason to see me with any kind of regard.
But what he did tonight,
008: Peace Offering [Millicent] I hear a “thump, thump, thump,” against my wall--a pattering of fists forming an oddly regular rhythm of flesh and stone. Squinting, I lift my head to see the first light of dawn begin to crest over the horizon. Rolling over, ignoring the pounding on my wall, I watch as the room slowly warms with morning light, refracted into sparkling rainbows through cut crystal windows that stretch from the marble floors to the high stone ceilings. Beautiful and cold, it is a lovely gilded cage. Grabbing a ridiculously oversized pillow, I pull it over my head in a vain attempt to silence the pounding which continues without pause, in perfect sync. I don’t need to check to know who it is on the other side. Voice muffled by the oversized cushion I groan, "I guess you can come in," and I sense more than hear when the door reappears and opens, allowing them all to come filing in. "Miss," a politely monotone and emotionless female voice to my left speaks. "We were se
[Millicent] Leon and I spent the morning re-teaching me how to sit (with one’s back straight, head pointed towards the heavens), how to eat (slowly and with care, never hurried), and then how to read (a painful process for the heart, mind, and eyes). It was more than a bit humiliating, but he did all of this with such patience and goodwill that I felt at ease, even at my lack of understanding. \ For example, it is “unladylike” to use your hands to dip your fruit into your bowl of cream. There are little forks for eating your berries so that your fingers are never sullied with juice. Nevermind that the juice often tastes better licked from one's hand. It is also “undignified” to pour your own cream in the first place because that is what the attendants are hired to do. Even if that meant you waited in hunger until they made their way over to you. Rushing and impatience are also “undignified,” so those moments of waiting your turn are important when cultivating patience, a desired vi
[Primus] She entered my home only three nights before and already her allure overwhelms my senses. I can smell her in the walkways, taste her fingertips as they brush against my walls, and feel the butterfly kisses her feet make as she moves through her room. There is no part of me that doesn’t crave to be near her. It makes no sense to me why I suddenly feel this need to be close to anyone, never mind a small, fragile thing like her. Could she even bear my touch if I were in my true form? Would she willingly come to me scaled as I am, or will she only ever want the touch of human flesh? If she could bear it, would I crush her, breaking her without knowing? Even for a human, she is still so weak, still needing so much more care than I have yet been able to give her. Cold, wet, smelling deeply of earth and my familiar dragon scent, it is dark in my cave. Adjusting my wings, I roll over onto my back to stare up at the bats and stalactites. I get adjusted, curling into a ball, my scale
[Millicent] What just happened? Primus is afraid. Afraid of me. All because we had a single moment where we allowed ourselves to be vulnerable. To touch and be touched. Remembering what Leon had said about companionship, maybe it cost him more than I can ever understand to let me get so close to him. But he wanted it. He asked me for it. Kneeling on the floor I replay the evening in my mind.____ As soon as I entered the hall, I noticed things were different. Everything
[Primus] I cannot trust my judgment with the smell and feel of her in my senses, so I am going to see the one person I know who could snap me back to reality, my sister, Ona. She’s a star fire dragon, which means she can be extremely temperamental, unpredictable, and capricious. She is also shrewd, wise, honest, and loyal. She’d never break a bond of trust. She’s the meanest, bravest, craziest drakaina I know. I can trust her to keep my secrets and to be strong enough to fight anyone else who comes seeking them as a way to hurt me. She is both my dearest friend and the greatest competition I have for the dragon throne. You’d think that alone would make her someone I shouldn’t give my confidence to, but we came to an und
[Millicent] On that first evening, I just laid down on the floor of the main hall and wept until the fire was burned down to ashes, my body aching and confused by everything I was feeling. I hate Primus. Every part of me hates him. He trapped me here, bullied me, and treated me like another shiny bauble in his horde to put on display and put away whenever it pleased him. But then he also does these strangely kind things that baffle me because of how much consideration it shows he has in my regard. Things like sending me Leon or making that deal with me and only asking for a dance in exchange, how he listened when I asked him not to kill those men. He didn't need to do any of those things, but he did. Why would he do these types of things for someone who means so lit
[Primus] Ona suggested I come clean with Carnelia, and tell her the truth about everything I might be hiding from her. To be “kind” to her. But how can I show her this kindness if she can’t be in the same room with me without being angry? If she ever chooses to be in the same room with me at all. She met her end of our agreement by allowing me to touch her, to dance with her, and now I am bound to do the same. Even if that means she never wants to see me again. I cannot say that I’d blame her if that was the choice she made. The way I left he
015: Landing [Millicent] Those eyes. There is so much anger in those eyes. Large green and glowing they hurt to look at. A roar carried by the wind speaks to me. Is it a warning or a threat? Grasping the window ledge, my heart pounding in my chest, I look back, focused on that malevolent gaze. The crystal of the window panes, covered in condensed dew, is almost too slick to grip. I move my hand a bit m