The Brush Tiger of Derven Ch. 01-05

She follows the dark, dusty twists and turns, not needing a light to guide her as she has travelled these tunnels may times before, though no one knows; even Laren thinks that she has forgotten about them. She ventures into the normally unused portion of the castle, to the hidden passage behind the walls of the guest room Irron is staying in. She sits quietly on the dusty floor, able to see into his room through a small slit in the wood panel walls. Having arrived before Irron, she has to wait a few moments before he appears.

Soon the door opens and it is Irron, followed by his Advisor Jones who shuts the door behind them. Irron pulls off his golden over coat, throwing it casually over the back of a desk chair.

"So much...wood, everywhere. Not enough stone," he says distastefully, "What do you think of the Princess, Jones?"

Jones sits on a bench, pulling his ankle up over his knee, "She is beautiful, your highness."

"Yes, indeed, she is," he agrees. Irron walks over to the fireplace, inspecting the masonry work, "I don't think she's terribly bright but I doubt she is stupid enough to refuse me. If she is, I know her father will make her understand."

Namora clenches her jaw—her suspicions about Irron lying were correct.

Seemingly satisfied with the stone work he turns to the desk, plucking the vase of flowers off of it and holding it at arm's length, "None the less, I have a week to bed her before I wed her. Please, take these with you. I cannot stand all of this plant life around me, I'm sure it will make me ill."

As Jones rises and takes the vase, Irron stops him before he leaves, "Say, Jones, did you bring any of my special wine?"

Jones gets a wicked smile on his face. For the first time, she can see that he shares the same dark, dull eyes of his King, "Yes, King Irron, I believe we packed a few bottles."

Irron grins, "Good. Tomorrow, for lunch then, with the Princess. That will be all."

As Jones exits, Irron begins to undress. Namora turns away with disgust, wanting to leave but knowing she should wait until he is asleep in case she makes any noise. After snuffing the lights and shutting the damper on the fire place, she can hear Irron climb into the bed. She waits patiently, listening to his breathing slow, until she is certain that he is asleep. She rises inaudibly and starts to leave, but for some reason she turns around and continues down the passage way, quietly pulling open the panel that leads into Irron's bedroom.

The new found anger that boils in her stomach gets the better of her and before she knows it she is standing at Irron's bed with her knife drawn and hovering inches from his throat. Her hand begins to shake as her mind struggles to talk her heart out of killing the man. Tears of rage stream down her face; she silently sheathes her knife and creeps back towards the panel. However, before she leaves the room, she reaches up to her hair and quickly untangles an orchid. She places it perfectly in the center of the desk, if not as a warning to him then as a reminder to herself of her strong willed Derven nature to promote peace before violence.

CHAPTER 4: WOODEN KNIFE

Though none would stop her, Namora takes care not to cross paths with anyone as she slips out of the castle and down the short road to the stables. Sneaking in the back door, she creeps up to Greystar's stall. The mammoth horse begins to shake his head up and down in excitement, stopped only when Namora puts a hand on his nose to steady him. She leans her forehead against his, saying nothing to the beast, but she tugs at his ear.

She got Greystar as a foal after his mother died during his birth. Perhaps she felt sorry for him since they shared a loss because she coddled and talked to him like he was a human. She devoted long hours to training him properly and she loved him and molded him into the monstrous beast that he is now. He stands a good hand higher than the next largest horse in her country and is disobedient to everyone except Namora.

She unlatches his stall door and creeps back out of the stable, the horse following just as quietly. When they are a safe distance away on the edge of the forest, Namora mounts him bareback. Together they trot along the tree line to her favorite spot, a quiet, open meadow on a hill, a few miles away from the castle.

At the peak of the hill, a lone willow tree bends crookedly to one side. Greystar, familiar with their routine, lies down under the tree as soon as Namora dismounts. She nuzzles her back against his chest, resting her head on his side. She looks up through the branches to the distant stars and tries to clear her mind but thoughts keep racing through her head. Frustrated, she looks away from the stars and off into the nearby forest, focusing on staring through the darkness. Knowing she is destined for a life of misery and solitude at Irron's side, she tries to talk herself into finding something amiable about the man, some redeeming quality that would allow her a small bit of affection towards him.

The darkness burning into her eyes, she sits and stares, thinking. Time passes, ticking or flying by, she doesn't know which. She decides that he at least has the courtesy to pretend that he loves her and at the very least she could do the same. Though she doesn't want him to mistake her acting for truth, she thinks that she can find a way to make him understand such.

Namora unsheathes her hunting knife; the well worn, dark wood handle feels smooth and familiar in her fingers. The curved blade-about as long as her forearm-shines dully in the fading moonlight. She can remember when it was new, when Laren gave it to her as a present for her first Huntress Festival. She can also remember the first brush tiger she killed with it.

It was five years ago when Namora was of age to participate in the bi-annual, women only Festival. She was put in a group with her friend Amyee and three other women who were older than her. Even though, by tradition, all women are considered equal during the Festival, the older ones insisted that she climb a tree to stay out of harm's way during their hunt. They had found an old den; there were no tigers in it but the more experienced women said that they wouldn't come back until just before dawn. In the darkness, Namora sat patiently tucked away in the tree. The four below her were spaced out around the den, all hidden from her line of sight.

A young brush tiger came stalking quietly out of the darkness. As the sky began to brighten with the coming of the new day, the tiger sought to take refuge away from it. She came up to the den and was just about to enter it when she sniffed the air, tensed and bolted. The older women sprang from their hiding spots and followed it but Namora was too high in the tree to join them. By the time she dropped silently to her feet, they were gone.

She started to walk to the spot where Amyee was hiding when she saw another brush tiger slink into view. This one was massive, one of the larger males. He limped awkwardly, his hind leg dragging uselessly behind him. Namora guessed that he managed to escape one of the snares they set. She was about to attack the tiger when her step forward landed her foot on a brittle twig; the snap it made seemed to echo through the forest. The tiger tensed and turned on her, a low threatening growl coming from its throat.

Namora froze, biding her time to attack. She looked deep into the yellow eyes of the tiger; they stood out like a fire in the night against its dark brown fur. He moved closer to her. She imagined they shared the same thoughts. When he was only a foot away, he sniffed the air, catching a whiff of Namora's scent. His mouth closed and the low deep growl turned into a rumble when the tiger began to purr. Slowly, it sat on its hindquarters before dropping its front paws down and laying out. The huge tiger rolled onto its side in front of Namora and closed its eyes, purring to her.

Even though her heart was heavy with guilt, Namora knew the tiger was in pain and she needed to end its suffering. Without hesitation, she leaned her weight forward, pinning the tiger's neck down with her knee. She raised her arms, knife in hand and plunged them straight into the tiger's heart, twisting it to release the last breath from his body.

When the other women returned, Amyee appeared out of the bushes. She told them what had happened, that it was the oddest thing she had ever seen, "It was as if the tiger loved her and gave its life to her."

Namora shook her head, "He was suffering and he knew that I would end the pain for him."

"A tiger," one of the older women looked at Namora curiously, "who loves its hunter. I have heard stories about this before but I never thought it was true. The others will seek you out."

And seek her out they did. Her first festival, Namora killed seven tigers by herself. She earned the coveted title of Head Huntress, a title that no one had held since her mother died, because of the impossibility of killing the required five tigers by one's self.

At first she isn't sure if she is dreaming or if her mindless stare is causing her eyes to play tricks on her. Just beyond the trees, she sees a shimmer of blue coming closer to her. She grips her knife tight, watching as the blue splits into two eyes, with a glint of blonde fur against the moonlight. Just inside the edge of the forest, the same mysterious brush tiger from the Festival sits on its haunches, staring at Namora. Greystar continues to sleep, his hooves twitching slightly as he dreams of running. The tiger is downwind from them, so her horse has no idea of the danger. Her muscles tighten with the idea of the oncoming attack but instead the two simply sit, staring at each other.

Something about Namora's scent attracts the tigers to her, making them think that she is one of them. She hates the idea of killing this particular tiger but if it continues to follow her, she will have no choice. As if he is calling out to Namora, begging her to come into the sanctuary of the forest, the tiger begins to pace back and forth just inside the tree line.

Knowing that he would follow her back into town, which would cause a huge commotion and possibly another emergency Festival which would lead to the slaughter of hundreds of tigers, Namora remains put, waiting for the dawn to push the tiger back to safety.

It isn't long before the moon disappears and the sky begins to brighten. As the sun rises over the forest and shines on the top of the willow tree, Namora can sense the tiger's anxiety. Reluctantly, it withdraws into the forest, disappearing out of sight just as the sun lands on Namora's face. Greystar stirs, rolling over before he stands up and shakes out his mane.

Still slightly confused by the tiger's actions, Namora sheathes her knife, pondering her night as she mounts the horse and they head back to the castle.

. . . . .

She manages to sneak back into her room and change into a fresh underdress just before Eunice knocks and enters. With her she brings a new dress; a light green one. She helps Namora get her corset back on but she doesn't cinch it as tight as the night before. The old lady smiles at her, "I had this one let out just a little, Princess. I figured you would like to breathe sometime today."

Namora nods in thanks, slipping into the soft, silky fabric. Even though it shows a lot more skin than her previous one, Namora is thankful that it isn't as tight. With three-quarter sleeves and a scandalous curved neck that barely shows her collar bone, she knows she won't have a problem keeping Irron's attention.

Eunice brushes and fixes Namora's hair before replacing her crown on her head. She thanks the old lady and makes her way towards the smaller breakfast room a few hallways away. She can't help but wonder what the Alumenian Queen's crown looks like and if she will be made to wear it while she is in Alumenia.

She is the first one to arrive in the breakfast room, so she sits in her seat and waits patiently for company before she can gather up her breakfast. The beautiful buffet display on the table looks appetizing, especially the freshly baked sweet rolls. She sighs, slightly irritated that she won't be able to have any until her wedding. In Derven, it is customary for women to give up bread once they are engaged and only on their wedding night can they resume consumption. The tradition represents that a woman's life isn't whole without a man and as such her meal must also be lacking a crucial part. She contemplates taking one when no one is looking but she decides that even though she doesn't care for Irron, tradition is tradition. To stave off her craving, she stares blankly at the opposing wall.

Much to her dismay, Irron and his Advisor are the first to enter the room, shown the way by an attendant who begins to fill the glasses with water. Upon seeing Namora, he walks around the table to her; he rests his hands on her shoulders and leans in to place a gentle kiss on her head, "Good morning, my love. Did you rest well?"

She forces a smile on to her face, "I could have slept longer but I am fine, thank you King Irron."

"Please, just Irron, my dear," he sits in the seat opposite her; she watches his eyes wander from her face to her bare neck. Namora has to will her cheeks not to burn red with anger. "Say, my dear, I woke up to find the most beautiful flower on my desk this morning...it resembled almost perfectly, the one you wore in your hair last night," his voice, though nonchalant, has an accusing tone to it.

Namora smiles softly at him, loading her plate with fresh cut fruit, "Yes, it was my flower." He raises an eyebrow at her before she continues, "You don't recall? You admired its beauty so much that I gave it to you before we parted ways." Her smile fades as she drives home her intentions, "As a token of my affections for you."

"How could I forget?" Irron stares at her somewhat coldly and as a strong willed Derven, Namora refuses to look away. Their gaze is only broken when her father enters the room.

"Good morning Namora, Irron," he says quietly, taking his seat at the head of the table. He avoids looking at either of them while he loads his plate. As Irron now sits to his left, in Laren's usual seat, the Advisor sits next to Namora. She says a quite hello before she delicately eats.

The table is silent throughout the breakfast, with only the brief inquiries of how everyone slept and comments on how wonderful the dance was last night. When she is done, Namora stares idly at Irron's plate, watching his graceful use of utensils. Finally, as everyone is finishes, it is Irron who speaks first.

"Princess, if you would be so kind as to leave us for a moment, there is pressing business I must discuss with your father."

Though none are more confused than Namora, she nods and quietly leaves the room, "I will be in the library then, if I am needed."

Across the hall she sinks into the soft brown sofa in front of the library fireplace. It doesn't take long before her eyes drift shut and she falls asleep. It only seems like seconds before a soft touch on her shoulder wakes her.

"Princess, it appears that your opinion is needed," Laren's gentle voice says. Without question she follows him back into the breakfast room.

The table has been cleared and in the place of the food sits three beautiful chests, each about as long as Namora's arm. All three are open and she can hardly believe her eyes as to what is inside; in the first, mounds of golden tokens and jewelry, in the second the same but in silver, and the third is full of gems of every color imaginable. She is careful to hide the astonishment from her face as she turns to her father, "I was told I was needed?"

King Nathanial, his face flush with anger simply waves his hand at Irron, too upset to talk. Thoroughly confused as to what could have gotten her calm and collected father in such a state as she has never seen before, she turns her gaze to Irron. The frustration on his face is obvious.

"I was merely trying to discuss your dowry with your father," he says plainly, though she does not understand.

"What is a dowry?"

"As I have now discovered, dowries are not given in Derven, though in Alumenia it is tradition. When a man asks for the hand of a woman, he presents a gift worthy of her to her father," Irron's gesture, though meant to be a compliment clearly comes off as an insult.

Namora now understands why her father is furious, "Let me see if I understand this, King Irron-in Alumenia, men give a gift in exchange for a woman's hand in marriage?"

"Yes," he says, throwing up his hands as someone has finally understood his intentions.

"So essentially you are purchasing me from my father? This is what I am worth to you?" She doesn't find herself irritated, nor flattered, but simply curious.

"NO! I mean, yes, but it is not a payment, it is a gift," he reaches out and clasps her hand in his, the falseness creeping back into his voice as he lowers it, "there is not enough items in the world that could convey how much you mean to me."

Forcing her hand to remain in his, she turns her gaze from Irron to the chests on the table. She can see her father struggling to keep his mouth shut, his knuckles white from clenching his hands into fists to stop them from shaking. The vast amount of wealth on the table is worth more than all the precious things in Derven. Though it truly is an astonishing display, Namora finds it to be extremely frivolous. Beautiful gems cannot cut down trees, gold is too malleable to make into tools and the silver is equally as worthless. So Namora, even though she finds the items beautiful, does the responsible thing. Turning back to Irron, she gives him a pleasant smile, "I must say, King Irron, that I am touched by your generous offer. I understand it is all untoward, but might I make a counter offer?"

Somewhat shocked, Irron looks at Nathanial. The old man's voice comes out tense, "It is her dowry, let her decide."

She gently squeezes Irron's hand to draw his attention back to her. Even more shocked by her actions, he says, "What is it that you want, my dear?"

Namora looks back at the extravagant display of wealth, "I fear you might have over valued me. I am but a simple Princess from a humble nation. A mere two thousand pounds of iron would be worth me."

The tension in the room grows and she sheepishly looks back to Irron. Now, it is he that is furious and her father that is calm. Everyone knows that she is trying to position her country to do without the traders and peddlers for a few years, buying the Dervens some time should something happen to their agreement with Alumenia. Irron clenches his jaw, voice coming out as a whisper, "But wouldn't you rather have pretty, beautiful things? You cannot make jewelry out of iron."

Putting the nail in the coffin lid of their argument, Namora squeezes his hand tight in hers, bringing them both up to her lips, "I have the only piece of jewelry that I value, right here, my King," to which she kisses the wedding ring on her finger.

Defeated, Irron sighs, "Very well, as you wish Princess," nodding to his Advisor, he orders him "Jones, please send word immediately. I expect the Princess' dowry to be here no later than tomorrow evening."

With a stiff bow, the man leaves the room. Entwining her arm around his, Irron begins to lead Namora out for their day together. Briefly, she catches the proud look on her father's face, before the pair, followed by Laren, exit the room.

As they walk towards the entrance of the castle, Laren reluctantly leaves their company when he is replaced by a Derven Officer, who will act as chaperone for Namora. Though she doesn't recall his name, she recognizes him as Cari's nephew. In an attempt to ease the tension, Namora breaks the silence, "What would you like to do today, Irron?" Though she feels uncomfortable addressing him in such a casual way, she knows that doing so will ease some of his anger towards her.