The Azure Rider Ch. 05

"Ah, yes, yes. Esmeralda, now that you have settled in, we have decided not to tarry any longer and conduct the betrothal ceremony tomorrow. It will be a small affair, the priest will read you your vows and you shall exchange rings in the morning, followed by a dance and a feast in the evening. My son is eager to be betrothed to you."

"I am grateful to hear that. My happiness knows no bound, your Highness," she nodded towards the King and smiled tentatively at her future husband. Prince Fredenand returned what he inevitably thought was a charming smile, but it only succeeded in raising the hairs on her arm. She had heard whispers from her handmaids about what he had done to his last wife, how she would often spend days in bed after his visits to her chamber, with bruises and whip marks smattered across her skin and a vacant look in her eyes. She had tolerated his arduous attentions for two years before leaping to her death from the top of the north-eastern tower of the castle.

And thus it was with a despondent outlook that Agatha was chaperoned to the South Eastern tower to meet the Dragon that seemed to be the source of all her misfortunes.

'Do you really think that?' A voice spoke inside her head, nearly causing her to stumble over the steep stone staircase that led to the top of the tower.

"Did you say something?" She turned towards one of the guards flanking her. He shook his head bemusedly. Agatha's back started to tickle, close to where her birthmark was.

'You back is tickling because your mark is completing itself,' the voice inside her head spoke again. 'It will take a month to complete.'

"What mark?" Agatha asked aloud, attracting another bewildered glance from her guards. They arrived at the top of the stairs and one of the guards held open the door. Agatha noticed an ink of the hand on this guard's wrist, too. She stowed the information at the back of her head for further perusal at a later time. Agatha sailed through the door, half worried about her sanity, then halted in her tracks, turning towards the most beautiful creature she had ever seen. She clamped her hand over her mouth, adoration and awe surging through her.

The Dragon was smaller than Ice but still larger than any Imperial Dragon she had ever seen. His scales were a burnished pale lilac, radiating a strange intensity that was difficult to keep staring at. Like the Imperial Dragons, he had a pair of horns at the top of his head but like the Azure Dragon, his wings, although half unfurled, were at least twice the length of his body. It was said that Azure Dragons were born for long flights while Imperial Dragons were born for battle. The Thistle Dragon seemed to be made for both. His eyes were a deep, limpid black, and Agatha could imagine that there was a hint of amusement in the way he looked at her.

'I think you are very beautiful too, little one,' the voice said again, and for a fleeting moment Agatha saw a strange view of the place in her head, except from a different perspective. She saw herself standing with her hands clamped over her mouth, her hair a halo around her head in the ocean wind and her eyes... Why did her eyes have purple flecks in between the green? Panic started to claw its way up her throat.

'Calm down, little one, it is simply a sign of being bonded to a Dragon.' Agatha recalled the flecks of deeper blue in Orion's pale eyes.

'Can you... read my thoughts?' Agatha thought tentatively, lowering her hands from her mouth. It was only then she saw the iron manacle attached to one leg of the Dragon.

"Can you please unchain him?" She turned towards the two guards who had accompanied her, who were now standing behind her, maintaining a respectable distance. The guards shook their heads. One of them said, "we cannot, Princess."

'No one knows how to unchain me, Princess.' The voice in her head grew morose, and Agatha could feel the Dragon's mind at the edge of her consciousness, just like she had in her dreams.

"Surely someone..." she began aloud, then realized the futility of talking to one who could see her mind. 'Surely King Olbrecht knows how to unchain you,' she thought.

'King Olbrecht chained me shortly after I was born. This was nearly thirty years ago, when your father was still the crown Prince, but Olbrecht was serving under your grandfather as the Chief Minister of the Council. It was originally intended to stop me from leaving for Lohenstraad to find my father, but now, alas, no one knows how to free me. King Olbrecht has summoned locksmiths, mages and even a witch on the death row, but none of them managed to break my chains.'

Agatha felt tears prickle at the back of her eyes at the Thistle Dragon's plight. How painful and hopeless it must be, she thought, to stay confined to the top of a tower, day after day, with the stars and the clouds and the wind his only company, watching the sun trace the same path over the dusty city of Regstone, not being able to fly, unable to travel to the beautiful lands that beckoned ever so seductively from the horizon.

'Can I touch you?' Agatha thought as she stepped forward cautiously. The answer was a chortle in her head. 'Of course.' Agatha reached out and laid her hand on the smooth horizontal scales on his chest. Instantly, she could perceive his thoughts with a higher clarity than before. She finally understood why the Thistle Dragon was amused at her. The Dragon was a female, not male as she had been led to believe.

'What is your name?' Agatha asked silently.

'Whatever it is that you name me, Agatha.' The Dragon lowered its head until it was resting on her shoulder. Agatha's back started to tickle with renewed vigour.

Agatha raised her eyes to inspect the burnished scales at the back of the Thistle Dragon. The name rose to her lips easily enough. "You are Elpis."

'What does it mean?'

'She was the Goddess of Hope to the Ancient Settlers.'

***

Agatha's good fortune ran out that evening, when Prince Fredenand decided that he had waited long enough to be with his future bride. Agatha felt a dreadful premonition curl at the pit of her stomach when her army of handmaids walked into her bedchamber and started to prepare her bath. She glanced inquisitively at Georgina, who surveyed her with unmasked pity and informed her that Prince Fredenand had decided to pay her a visit.

Agatha reached out with her mind for Elpis, seeking comfort in her calm disposition as her handmaids started to heat wax on an oil burner to clear the hair from her person and her mound. She displayed an admirable self command as they ripped off her body hair, bathed her, massaged her with fragrant oils and braided her hair elaborately, and placed a string of white nocturnal flowers on the crown of her head. Finally, they dressed her in a pearly white, translucent chiffon robe which left one of her shoulders bare.

Prince Fredenand walked in shortly after they left, surveying his bride to be intently. Agatha stood paralysed with fear by the bed, her throat choked from anxiety as he advanced upon her and undid the clasp of her robe. It pooled at the ground around her feet, leaving her recently plucked body bare for his perusal. He reached for her breasts and squeezed them, firmly enough to leave handprints on her skin. Prince Fredenand moved around her, now inspecting her back.

"Your mark has grown," he commented, lightly tracing his fingers down the deep purple curves. His fingers continued their downward probe, finally pausing at her hips. Without warning, he smacked her there. Agatha stifled a gasp. Cracks started to appear in her perfectly vacant countenance at the unmistakable sound of unbuckling of a belt. Small movements informed her that Fredenand was taking off his trousers. He trailed his fingers to her stomach and finally slipped them between her legs. His fingers probed inquisitively across her dry folds, then without warning, he pushed her onto the bed and mounted her from behind, ramming into her dry channel with a grunt. Her face shielded from him, Agatha finally allowed herself to wince from the pain. Unbidden, her thoughts strayed to Orion, to his urgent, demanding caresses, his husky voice when he demanded that she come and his tender kisses afterwards. Her body started to respond, her channel started to grow wet, not for the man at her back, but for the man in her thoughts, the one she, like a fool, had grown to love. This realization was accompanied by an imperceptible sob, and Agatha, afraid of alerting Fredenand to her wretched state of mind, blinked back her tears instead of allowing them to fall. Fredenand finished quickly and withdrew to inspect her channel.

"You're not a maiden," he said accusingly.

Agatha sat on her haunches and answered with a credible imitation of shame, "no, your Highness."

She watched with utter helplessness as the Prince's face twisted in rage, as he took her deflowered state as a personal insult to himself. "He cheated us, he gave us a whore instead of the Thistle Princess," he whispered furiously, then rushed out of the chamber, barely pausing to put on his trousers. Agatha could hear him hollering obscenities at her character as he strode down the corridor. Heaving a sigh, she gathered her robes in her hand and set about wrapping it around herself, wondering hopefully if Prince Fredenand would stay away from her in light of this new information. Her happiness was short-lived. Presently, the Prince returned and Agatha recoiled when she saw the whip in his hand.

"I can explain," she said, holding her hands up in distress, "it was not my fault, the Head Mage of the Academy took me when --"

"On the bed." Prince Fredenand answered in a clipped tone.

Agatha's self command failed her at this juncture; gathering her robes around her person she ran out of the chamber. She did not get very far. Prince Fredenand caught her on the corridor outside, colliding into her from behind and holding her down on the stone floor with a hand around her neck. He hauled her up by her braid and dragged her to the chamber, where he pushed her onto the bed again. Before Agatha could scramble away, the whip struck her squarely across her back. Agatha screamed in pain.

"I told my father, you know," Fredenand tested the strength of the whip by tugging it between his hands. "That I don't want to marry a De Clare woman. Licentiousness runs in the De Clare family. Look at your father, for instance."

He brought down the whip over her again, this time striking the exposed skin of her shoulders. Dimly Agatha could feel Elpis struggling to break away from her chains so that she might come and rescue her, and the pain of the iron manacles cutting into her Dragon's leg mingled with the pain blossoming across her own back. Prince Fredenand reached for her robes and moved them out of the way.

"And then, look at you," he continued. "It seems that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

"Fredenand," Agatha gasped, searching for the words that would make him listen to reason, vainly clawing around in her mind for anything that would make him stop.

"You will call me Your Highness!" He roared, bringing his hand down for another strike. "And you will learn your place." For this last sentence, he punctuated every word with a lash. Agatha clamped her jaws shut and sought refuge in Elpis's mind, begging her to stop struggling against her chains.

'If I ever see that piece of vermin on the tower, I will burn him into a crisp,' Elpis growled.

'Please do.' Agatha thought desperately.

Prince Fredenand stopped when his arms were tired, and by then, Agatha was blissfully unconscious. She awoke later, to find Georgina running a cool washcloth across her back.

"What is the time?" Agatha asked groggily, blinking her eyes open. The pain on her back was gone, but when Georgina dipped the washcloth into a bowl of water, she noticed that the water was crimson red.

"Nearly dawn," Georgina answered. "Rest now."

"How bad is my back?" Agatha asked, raising herself to her elbows. It did not hurt at all, and that surprised her. Georgina gave her an odd look.

"You are healed already," she answered. "Your Dragon's powers give you exceptional healing abilities." Agatha recalled another conversation with Orion from what seemed like an eon ago.

"Georgina," she groaned. "Can you please help me find someone to unchain my Dragon?"

"It is not possible. King Olbrecht has tried everything. There is a magic in those shackles that even witches cannot undo."

'You can still escape, you know,' Elpis's voice sliced through the fog in her mind. 'Save yourself.'

'We are not having that discussion,' Agatha thought with every shred of will left in her tired body.

As if reading her thoughts, Georgina said, "De Clare women do not run from their circumstances, Princess."

"Of course not," Agatha muttered venomously. She was becoming rather tired of hearing what De Clare women could and could not do. "I suppose you cannot get me barren potion if I ask you to, because clearly, De Clare women bear their husbands children even if they don't want to."

"If you want, I can teach you tricks to ease your predicament," Georgina continued, unperturbed by Agatha's sourness. "Prince Fredenand may be a cruel man, but he is still a man. Control him," she whispered seductively in her ears, "and you control the throne of Vandan."

Agatha raised her eyes to look at the handmaid, unsure if she was being sincere in her proposal. She found no guile in the older woman's grim, taut face. Instead, Georgina's face was aglow with a fervour that did nothing to relieve Agatha's unease. She sat up on her bed and stared speculatively at Georgina.

"Tell me what to do."

Authors note:

Hi all,

I know you all still have questions. Rest assured, they will be answered in the subsequent chapters. Let me know how you feel about this chapter. This chapter was written in a bit of a hurry and I apologize if there are any grammatical errors. I am beginning to see the advantages of using an editor.

The scene where Agatha meets her Elpis is somewhat inspired from Eragon. You can think of this part of the story as a fan fiction for the Inheritance Cycle :p

Elpis was the spirit of hope in Greek Civilization. To be clear, the "Ancient Settlers" mentioned in the story have no connection with the Greek Civilization. I used that name because I have always liked it and frankly, because I am running out of names.

~Ash