#princess millerna

“And do you think that you’ve earned this?  Earned my love with your absence?” This time Dryden did flinch, unable to deny the venom behind her words, though he did finally look up.  Eyes the colour of smokey jade stared into hers, trying to show without words the depth of his love and devotion.

Millerna had grown far from the sweet naive girl she’d been before the war had torn it’s way across her country, shattering her peaceful perfect life. She was a woman now, one who wasn’t moved by something as simple as a sincere look.  Dryden could see that well enough and he knew that she required more than lofty intentions.  She required actions, a great many noble actions to counteract the pain he’d caused her in her darkest hour.

“I wanted to rebuild our country alongside our people.  I wanted to prove to you that I could be the man you could love and admire on my own merit.” He all but whispered, wishing inwardly that his voice sounded stronger, more self assured, but there had always been something about this beautiful fierce princess who’d always unmanned him with little more than a glance.

“And you thought that your absence would endear yourself to me?  That a missing heir would embolden our people and give them hope and confidence when they needed it the most?”  Pale perfect eyebrows narrowed in a slight frown as she made it abundantly clear that his logic left much to be desired.  “We needed you.  I needed you, and instead you left us for your precious shortcut to my heart.”  This time, it was Millerna who turned away, tears shimmering at the edges of her eyes. “You fool.”  Her voice was so soft, so bitter that it nearly broke Dryden’s heart to hear it.  “You already had my heart and that of our people, but look what you did to them both!”  As she spoke, her voice rose, not so much in volume, for it never rose beyond a ladylike murmur, but there was a slow burning fury beneath the gentle tones which warned of the fire blazing within her soul.

“Is this what you would bring to our country?  My country?”  Her delicate hand closed around the ring, squeezing it tightly as if to expunge the pain it had caused her... Dryden could only assume she was pretending it was his throat by proxy.  “You, Dryden Fassa are a coward.”  She charged him, causing the merchant lord to open his mouth in ready objection, only to be silenced by her raised hand.

“Do not interrupt me Lord Fassa, you lost that right when you placed this ring in my palm.”  Her eyes narrowed and Dryden obediently closed his mouth, realizing that arguing was only going to make his already tenuous position even worse.  “I do not mean to imply that you fear death or injury, you have proven your worth there as a man.  Nor do you fear the risky endeavour or the path less travelled.  No.  What you fear more than anything is responsibility.”

Again, she opened her fingers, displaying the ring which now seemed to taunt him, mocking him.   It seemed to light, so innocuous in her silken gloved hand.  Nothing but a ring, a pretty bit of jewellery glittering in the sunbeams which lit the room with afternoon warmth.  That was where the trap lay however.  It’s weight couldn’t be seen, but it could certainly be felt, and for Dryden, day by day, colour by colour as the war pressed onward and the losses of the allied nations grew, he’d felt himself crushed by it.  

Astoria had been the leader in the war against Zaibach, the epicentre of the resistance, and as heir, an incalculable amount of lives had been in his hands.  After the slaughter at Rampant, he’d remembered the words of King Van echoing in his head over and over again.  If you don’t fight, you’re just waiting to be killed.  Waiting to be killed... a victim... a burden.  

Dryden had no idea how to fight.  He was a man of words, of books and ledgers.  His wars were fought with accountants and treaties, not with swords and guymelefs.  How was he supposed to lead a country on the eve of war?  Specifically a losing war?  When he’d looked out his window of the palace, watching the soldiers training, preparing to move out onto the front lines, he’d seen nothing but a courtyard filled with corpses, each one sent to walk the Paths of the Dead by him.  His ignorance, his inexperience had led to the countless dead at Rampant, and now he was certain it would lead to hundreds... thousands dead upon the fields of battle.  It was simply too much.

He’d looked down at his ring, at the beautifully carved serpentine shape of Jeture Himself and remembered that the great dragon only granted earnest wishes.  What of the wishes of a coward? What was the worth of his wishes when compared to those who were putting their lives on the line?  No, his heart was unworthy, his prayers would only call down the great dragons wrath.  In his heart, he knew that he wasn’t worthy.  Not yet.  He’d become the heir not through his own worth, but because of the power wielded by his father and it tainted every decision he could ever make.  

Only when he had earned that title, that most noble of rights, would he wear that ring once more.  He vowed this solemnly as he watched those brave young men marching off towards their deaths, for he knew without a doubt that few if any would return.  The loss of their lives was inevitable, but what he could do?  What he truly had the power to do was change the fate of those left behind.  In the aftermath of the war, he could help the civilians, rebuild his country from the ashes and finally prove his worth to himself.

Still, explaining that to the beautiful and fierce woman standing in front of him, the woman he’d so grievously wronged... that was easier said than done.  Instead, he didn’t try.  Rather than argue or plead, he simply knelt down at her feet and bowed his head low in supplication.  The move was so unexpected that Millerna actually took a slight step back, confusion filling her face as she struggled to understand this new ploy.

“I only wished what was best for this country, and for my beloved wife. In my ignorance, I wronged both you and Astoria.  My actions were selfish, ill conceived and yes... cowardly.  All I ask is for a chance to atone.”  

There was the soft thump of something deceptively heavy hitting the thick rug in front of his nose and as he risked a look, he saw Jeture’s shining form filling his vision, daring him to take up the impossible burden once more.

“You hurt m Dryden, more than you will ever know.”  Millerna stated coolly.  “However, this country needs leadership more than my pride needs soothing.  If you wish to atone then you will listen very carefully to what I am about to say and you will follow my words exactly.”  Her tone left no room for argument and for the first time ever, Dryden realized that standing before him was not a simple princess, but a fierce and regal Queen.  One who was NOT to be meddled with.

“You are going to pick up that ring, place it upon your finger and stand at my side for all of Gaea to see.”  She instructed levelly.  “You will smile and wave to the people, you will radiate confidence no matter how badly you tremble or cower inside your soul.”  There was a slight pause as she allowed her words to sink in.  “You will be heir to Astoria and one day, you will be king, but you will not rule. Until you learn true courage, that will be my burden and I will instruct you on what to say and do.  I will decide the fate of this country and you will make my wishes known to the nobles and the Council of Allies.

“Once you have learned what it is to rule and appreciate the responsibility and self sacrifice required to hold the lives of a country in your hands, only then will I permit you to be my partner upon the throne, but your will alone will never be law.  Understand this Dryden Fassa and accept this or else leave my sight and never return.  Do I make myself clear?”  

He’d never heard such strength in the voice of another, not even King Aston spoke with such utter conviction and Dryden had no doubt that this woman would lead Astoria to greatness with or without his help.

Slowly, silently, he reached out and gently picked up the ring, slipping it onto his finger where it immediately weighed his hand down, seeking to press it into the floor.  This time, he looked at it for a long moment, studying the elegant coils of the dragon, the way His eyes seemed to stare into his own, studying, judging.  Could he do this? Dare he do this?

With careful deliberation, Dryden closed his hand into a fist and pressed it against his heart, vowing silently to do his best or die trying. He would make his country and his queen proud.  It didn’t matter what it cost.

Looking up into those beautiful lavender eyes, Dryden saw the first hint of warmth in their depths, and to him, it was like the first beams of springtime sun after a cold dark winter.

“Rise up husband.”  Her voice was as demure and gentle as he remembered it being before the shadows of war had engulfed them, but he knew that the warrior queen still lurked behind the battlements.  “It’s time to learn to rule.”  A slender silk gloved hand reached out and he took it gently in his own, raising it to his lips to bestow a loving yet dignified kiss to her palm, earning himself a faint smile as reward.