dawn of ancient fire

Chapter 2

The inside of the castle was as stunning and overwhelming as the rest of the inner city.

The ceiling was fashioned like a massive greenhouse. The iridescent glass, supported by beams of interlocking steel, left rainbows across the jungle that was the throne room. The marble floors had been traded for pieces of sandstone locked together in a mosaic Making different levels in the floor. Curving pools of shimmering blue water filled the room with the sounds of splashing water. little lily pads dotting the pools' surface, and large fish swam in the depths. Plants and flowers had been imported from across the northern and southern continent. Sweeping arches of ivy and flowering vines made a dome over the dais that held the royal family's respective thrones.The occupants are a stark contrast to the wild, beautiful decor of the room. The prince and high queen were seated on matching thrones of rough-hewn stone. The clothing the royals wore always unnerved Marlowe. When at court, the royal family always wore masks of polished metal that covered their faces from forehead to nose, a tradition that started some ten thousand years ago. The people never saw the faces of their rulers. From the time a king and queen is crowned, they're made to wear this symbol of power and control. Marlowe found it archaic.

The queen wore a mask fashioned after a feathered bird. A three-dimensional beak covering most of her full mouth. The crown she wore was made of hammered copper and red jewels, mimicking a phoenix's feathers and was elegantly woven into the braids of her pale white hair. She wore a dress of gold that trailed along the floor dramatically. The prince was her opposite, the moonlight to her fire. He was adorned in a steel mask fashioned after the silhouette of a dragon's face and horns. The mask came to a point at the top of the prince's head on either side. He left his long silver hair loose and straight at his shoulders. His lean frame was adorned in a tunic of spun silver, a dark grey robe trailed at his feet.

"your late Marlowe... it's nearly morning". The prince drawled.

Marlowe stopped a few steps below the dais, cadoc still in tow, and bowed low. Her red curls swept the floor. The movement tugged cadoc forward with her. He mumbled a muffled grunt, his mouth still stuffed with her handkerchief.

"I apologize, your majesty..." she said, looking up " I ran into some... trouble".

" unusual for you, Marlow, but I see you still aim to please." The prince descended the stairs to stop in front of them. He held a presence that could be overwhelming. She recalled the first time she met prince Ryuu. She had been a child then, only 12 years old. He had been the one to find her half-frozen in an alley. At that age, the prince took a liking to sneaking away from his attendants and tutors to wander the city. she had thought him an angel then and had called him so in her delirious state. In a panic, he picked her up and ran her to the castle, hiding her away in his rooms. Weeks later he presented her at court, dressed in a borrowed tunic and leathers. His mother had been kind and warm. His father, however, was stern and demanded an explanation.

" This mouse has no place in the palace," he yelled.

Marlowe had mumbled something under her breath. Catching his attention, unfortunately.

" speak up, if you are going to speak, make sure it is heard by all who are present."

"I said I'm no mouse, I am Marlowe." she was shaking slightly but thought it a bad idea to show the dragon king weakness.

" What do you intend to do with her Ryuu?" his mother asked.

" I have grown to trust Marlowe and request that she receive the same training I do so that one day she will be ready to be the right hand to the prince."

His answer surprised her, but the king's agreement had surprised her more, and she began training that afternoon.

The king had called for her a few days later. His chambers were enormous; red velvet hung from the ceiling in great sheets and accented the polished gold floors. Giant white dahlias were growing around the room. Their fragrance was cloying and made Marlowe's head pound. The king was seated on a mound of pillows in the corner of the room, a gold tea service steaming on the seating table next to him. she stood hesitant at the door.