The Dragon Queen

Proposal

The Saltarion ballroom was buzzing and alive with dancing royals, lords, ladies, princes, princesses and knights, all clad in costumes of brightest colour and sparkles. One woman stood apart from all of them, dressed in a dress as black as night and made from only the most expensive material in the kingdom. The dress swept over the polished golden floor when she walked, giving those around her the foreboding warning that she was coming. It hung low on her shoulders, revealing the pale white scar that she had received as a child and couldn't even remember how, but had always liked as it made those knights who boasted of their oh so many victories quiet. A simple golden crown sat upon her head, made of nothing more than iron, but despite its humble beginnings, it was one of the most precious artefacts in the Ten Realms. Thousands of years old, wielded into being by an ancient dragon's fire, the little crown commanded the highest respect from all realms, dragons included. Lucia could easily see many jealous eyes following it as she carefully moved around the room, nodding and greeting those she supposed she ought to. She wasn't used to moving around in a dress, much preferring her armour. That wasn't unusual for a Helena or a dragon rider. Her sister, Princess Jenna, was much the same. Lucia sometimes envied her younger sibling, who would spend months exploring the realms at her leisure, no one but her beloved dragon for company. All bowed or curtsied to Lucia as she swept by, some even dared to ask her to dance, but she only had eyes for one man and he was nowhere to be seen. Prince Thomas should have been there. This was a feast for the Ten Realms after all and Lucia had invited him with her own personal invitation. He was the only man she wanted to talk to after all and he could make any dull occasion fun. If he wasn't going to attend, Lucia would surely regret dressing as she had. A new song suddenly began from the hidden orchestra, a foreboding dramatic beating of drums that echoed gloriously throughout the spacious ballroom. "A ragal untona uls nagar bes solite. (A beautiful woman should never be alone)" a deep voice growled and Lucia turned to see her favourite prince step towards her, the dancers parting to make way and glancing apprehensively over their partner's shoulders at him. He hadn't dressed at all for the occasion, dressed in his flexible leather armour that Lucia immediately envied. He spoke in the ancient language of the Saltari, Lucia's native tongue, known only to those blessed with dragons, but she had taught it to him anyway and him being the intelligent man he was, resigned to his studies, he had somehow become fluent within a week. Lucia was rather glad of this as no one else could speak the ancient language. It made the task of having hushed conversations far easier. There was no need to be quiet if no one else could understand a word they said. Yet despite Lucia's happiness to see him, she merely fixed him with a fiery glare. "Var egas sana leen? (Where have you been?)" she questioned.

"I rag hasara deg I rag zegubra, Ils Godara. (I was unaware that I was expected, Your Highness)" Thomas teasingly returned, and he held out towards the scorched remnants of what Lucia assumed had once been a letter. "I assume this was an invitation?" he asked curiously, switching to English in a heartbeat. Lucia rolled her eyes. So her beautiful dragon hadn't delivered the invitation as she had strictly instructed her to. Even so, that was no excuse for Thomas to assume he wasn't invited. The drums suddenly thundered around them and, dropping the shredded paper to the floor, Thomans came closer to her with a dangerous smirk. Lucia suddenly became aware of just how tall he was compared to her. He slowly began to circle her, as the dance required, and Lucia circled him in turn, their shoulders touching each other all the while. "Sana uls noleg deg sana air alara zegubra nil I. (You should know that you are always expected by me)" Lucia growled, reminding him with her language that it was she who was in charge, her emerald eyes locked with his over her shoulder.

"I una isaris, una I sog? (I am here, am I not?)" Thomas teasingly returned.

"Misigra heaven par deg. (Thank heaven for that)" Lucia breathed gratefully. At least when she was with him no more pompous knights and eager noblemen could waste her time. Thomas smiled at her words and slowly, prepared to pull away if needed, curled his arm around her waist as they circled each other, just slightly pulling her closer to him. "I una gadun to henarus deg. Sug meanrit sana oligay ditrute compano. (I am glad to hear that. It means you enjoy my company)" Thomas replied smugly.

"Arona mal satar. (More than most)" Lucia agreed. She sighed and intertwined her fingers with his hand that rested on her side. It was purely on impulse, a reaching out for something Lucia wasn't even sure of. She couldn't help it and part of her hoped he wouldn't notice. She hadn't expected for Thomas' second hand to cup her cheek as they moved, and softly turn her head to face him, especially in public. She knew him well enough to know that he didn't like public affection. What to make it that, a small voice wondered. "Ralanna irratons sana? (Something troubles you?)" Thomas questioned sharply.

"Isa. (No)" Lucia tried to lie, but Thomas' impossibly blue eyes burned into her own so harshly that even she surprisingly relented.

"Vlar. (Yes)" she sighed. The drumming around them built into a roar and the pair finally halted in their movements. Once again was Lucia aware of the height of the warrior afore her as he towered over her, trying to pull the answer from her. His hands moved to her neck, where his fingers pushed her head as far back as she would allow to lock eyes with his, like a snake hypnotising her. "Tris? (What?)" Thomas demanded.

"Voidin par sana to upal ilssipira wordona. (Nothing for you to worry yourself about)" Lucia assured him. Affairs of Saltari weren't the business of an Assar prince. "Darma? (Really?)" Thomas challenged disbelievingly, fingernails pressing into her skin. Lucia may have considered it threatening had it not been for his concerned frown. "Sug sa min sug exora ditrute starria golaring. (It is if it impacts my future kingdom)".

"Ils golaring? (Your kingdom?)" Lucia echoed, eyebrow raised "Timune egos Saltari fiaris leen ils golaring? (When has Saltari ever been your kingdom?)". Thomas only laughed and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips, one that she returned even in her surprise and confusion. But he didn't pull away as she had expected. Instead he moved even closer, so that his soft lips caressed her ear. "Pasar I tumblar doweg wondaring frendil sana. (Since I fell in love with you)" he whispered easily, confidently. How could be speak so openly? He was Thomas, the scowling Prince of Assar, known for his secrecy and reclusive moods. He was a well accomplished liar too, but this was perhaps the worst lie he had ever told. It was as transparent as glass. Resisting the urge to burst into mocking cackles, Lucia played the game and carefully reached up to cup his handsome smooth face, the dancers and music merely fog and white noise around them. "Deg potifal sog forana ditrute golaring dargrato. (That does not make my kingdom yours)" she growled firmly. She did not plan to marry any man any time soon, not for the something so fickle as a word of love. Her crown was hers and she would defend it from even him. "Sana egas to brailong ditrute solrait. (You have to earn my heart)" she explained in a softer tone, one hand moving to stroke his silky soft ebony hair that grazed his collar, but Thomas seized her wrist to halt her, as if she was suddenly denied the privilege. "Sana noleg I, Ils Godara. (You know me, Your Highness)" he hissed "I gos sog brailong. I kyanic rakude ils solrait et sana. (I do not earn. I will take your heart and you)".

"Oh, kyanic sana? (Oh, will you?)" Lucia challenged hopefully. She did adore a challenge. "Wushni kakara. (Good luck)". Because if he wasn't careful, she would take his heart and that would be far more dangerous than any political marriage he could arrange.