“Ah, hah,” Atres grins, leaping nimbly to his feet, “That’s my cue.”
Turning to face Emlyn, he bows and offers her his hand. Looking up from lowered eyes, he smiles, “May I have this dance? And perhaps the next few as well?”
Flicking an imaginary fan at him, Emlyn agrees and reaches for his hand as his smile grows into a grin.
“Come then,” Atres says, putting her hand on his arm, “and let us join the festivities.”
“I have to warn you,” Emlyn says shyly, “that I probably don’t know the steps.”
“No matter,” Atres grins back, “If I know them, I’ll teach you. If neither of us knows them, we’ll make something up.”
Buoyed by his confidence, Emlyn allows him to lead her to where other couples are starting to dance. This first song serves as a warm-up, and its slow tempo means that other couples are essentially hanging off each other, swaying to the music.
Atres takes in the scene and decides that this might make Emlyn uncomfortable. Thinking quickly, he pulls her into a more formal dance position and grins, “Just follow my lead.”
He slides sideways gracefully, knees slightly bent, and Emlyn follows. Two more of the sliding steps backward, and Atres whispers, “Now slide the other way. Good, now toward me. Now we do the same thing again.”
The steps are elegant, graceful, but also somehow seductive. The slow pace of the music lends his movements a predatory grace, and soon Emlyn is blushing again.
“Am I putting ideas in your head?” Atres grins, “You’re blushing again.”
This only makes her blush deepen, and Atres throws his head back, laughing.
“You hold onto those ideas,” Atres grins, “The time for them isn’t now, but it pleases me to no end to know that you have them about me.”
Finally, he grins down at her, “Let’s go find something to drink, shall we? Since you drank the Manuka cordial, I think some cider is probably in order. It seems I need to get you off the dance floor before your blush becomes permanent.”
Face flaming now, Emlyn ducks her head.
Chuckling, he hooks a finger under her chin and pulls her face up so that he can look into her eyes, “Gods above, you are enticing when you blush like that. Almost too much to resist.”
“What do you mean?” Emlyn asks innocently.
“Hmmm,” Atres purrs, suddenly becoming seductive, “It means that I desperately want to take you somewhere private and kiss every single pink glowing particle of your skin at least once, maybe two or three times.”
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Atres sighs and then smiles at Emlyn, “It’s much too soon for that, but that’s definitely what it makes me think of.”
At the look on her face, he sighs heavily, “You are safe with me. I swear it on my sword. Anything like that, right now, would do more harm than good. You recall when I asked you to trust me to be man enough about it?”
He waits until Emlyn nods before continuing, “This is my living up to that trust. I certainly have my ideas about you. And I’ll be holding on to them, never fear.”
He stops for a moment and grins at her before growing serious again, “While I might wish to throw you over my shoulder and haul you away somewhere private, it’s much too soon for that. I’m not near foolish enough to think that acting on those ideas wouldn’t have consequences. I’m holding out for far more than a night or two with you, so that you know. I’ve already told you that I’ll wait. Now then, let’s go see about finding some cider.”
They wander around the edges of the fair until Atres spots a large boulder protruding from the ground.
Hoisting Emlyn onto it, he bows to her again, saying, “You wait here. I’ll go find something and be back in a few minutes.”
Emlyn composes herself and fans her flushed face.
As she sits there, one of the girls from one of the villages approaches and, without preamble, says, “He’s handsome enough, I’ll give him that much. Those three come here almost every year, and nearly every year, one of the girls goes home with a gift from him. There are more than a few boys here who are his blow-by. Last year, it was my sister. You watch yourself; you hear.”
Without waiting for a response, the girl walks away. Emlyn turns this over in her mind for a moment and compares it with the promises he has made to her.
Atres returns, juggling a basket of fried potatoes, a jug of cider, and a couple of mugs. He finds Emlyn sitting there with her legs drawn up and her chin on her knees, looking lost in thought.
“Hey, now,” Atres says gently, “What’s all this, then?”
Emlyn repeats the one-sided conversation with the girl.
“Ah,” Atres grimaces, “It seems my past is catching up to me, and part of that isn’t true. Let me try to explain and set the record straight, at least. What I haven’t told anyone is that because of what I am, conception is tricky. Preparations must be made for it to be successful. It’s nearly impossible otherwise. That being the case, I didn’t see much reason not to have a bit of fun when it was freely offered, since there’d be little to nothing in the way of consequences for either party. Now that I’ve met you, those offers are... boring. I wouldn’t take them up on it now. I’ve already told you that I’m looking for something much longer term than a night or two.”
Stolen story; please report.
He stops for a moment, trying to read Emlyn’s face, and sighs heavily, “If you want to send me packing, I’ll go. I won’t like it, and I won’t promise not to try to win you back, but I’ll go. I hope you know that you can trust the promises I’ve made to you. You are safe with me.”
“It’s not my place to judge your behavior before we met,” Emlyn says slowly, “and I trust you, but I also trust my abilities. Your motives were quite clear when I checked them and far more complex than just trying to get me out of my clothes.”
“What exactly did you find?” Atres grins. “You want a mate, a partner, an equal. Someone who sees you as more than a bit of eye candy. Someone to come home to at the end of the day and wake up next to in the morning.”
“What would I find if I were able to check your motives?” Atres asks.
“Someone to help me raise my House from the ashes and hang my banner to call the surviving Cymry to it,” Emlyn shrugs, “A founding sire for the House to help bring up strong children and help me teach them the art of war.”
“Founding sire, eh?” Atres raises an eyebrow at her, “Hmmm.... sounds a bit like me being your little brooder, doesn’t it?”
“Language is tricky,” Emlyn says while nodding, “Ours more so than most. Much of the meaning is... contextual and often layered. With all my brothers gone, you’d be the first father in a new House.”
“Can you say something in your language?” Atres asks.
Smiling, Emlyn says, “Mae gennych lygaid hardd. Tybed beth sy'n digwydd y tu ?l i'ch llygaid.”
“What does that mean?” Atres asks her.
“You have beautiful eyes. I wonder what’s going on behind your eyes.”
“I’ve never heard anything like it,” Atres muses, “I still can’t place where you’re from.”
“I am very far from home,” Emlyn shrugs, “So far that no one here even knows of my people. Had I been anywhere within even a few kingdoms' distance, I’d have been recognized and probably ransomed back to my people by now. I’d be busy earning my way back into the King’s good graces after such a foolish mistake.”
“You’re that famous?” Atres says, shocked.
“Maybe not so much personally. I am easily identifiable,” Emlyn replies, “as one of my people.”
“How so?” Atres asks.
“Because it is written on my skin,” Emlyn explains, “We are all tattooed.”
“Even your hands?” When Emlyn nods, Atres says, “That explains the gloves. Best you keep that hidden, then. Now drink your cider and have some of these. They smelled delicious. When you’re done, I’ll be ready to take you dancing again.”
Argonath watches Atres leaning up against the boulder that Nia is perched atop, and the solicitousness and concentration on her that Atres displays for a long moment. As Argonath keeps watching the two of them chatting from a distance, he curses softly, while Korek laughs.
“I told you he was a goner,” Korek elbows Argonath, “I knew it when I saw him comforting her after he said something stupid and made her cry. Can’t imagine what else would make him agree to wait three years for her.”
“I fear I might have lost one of my lieutenants,” Argonath grimaces, “I’ve got no one to replace him with, either. Damn the luck. That means you’ll be pulling extra duty until I can get his head out of the clouds or find someone else.”
“I’ve never seen him at any woman’s beck and call,” Korek agrees, “like he is with her. He’ll come around once the new wears off. He’s covered for me often enough; I figure I owe him this.”
“I doubt he’ll want to come to the next fair with us,” Argonath shrugs, “when we leave tomorrow. If I make him go, he’ll be useless and mooning around over her. May as well leave him here and find out where things stand when we get back to Harito.”
“It doesn’t really take all three of us to go scouting for new talent, does it?” Korek asks.
Argonath waves Korek off, but nods in agreement.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Emlyn asks.
“I’m supposed to leave tomorrow,” Atres says, “What did you have in mind?”
“I need to spend some time training tomorrow,” Emlyn replies, “When we get back, we’re supposed to go to a remote village and try to negotiate with a dragon.”
“I heard about that,” Atres says, “I don’t like them sending you. Not on this.”
“Why?” Emlyn asks, “It seems routine enough.”
“Not for you it isn’t,” Atres shoots back, “This particular dragon has a penchant for... unsullied females, and you fit that bill rather nicely. I don’t want to have to come hunting one of my larger kin to get you back.”
“I doubt that he’ll speak to us,” Emlyn shrugs, “I’ve been expecting to have to go hunting him myself. I left some sketches with the smiths to make up some weapons just in case that’s how things end up.”
“You know how to hunt dragons?” Atres marvels, “Why am I not surprised?”
“Drakes and dragonettes mostly,” Emlyn shrugs, “but their larger kin weren’t uncommon. Most were polite enough to ask for food if they were hungry and to go hunt down any drakes or dragonettes in the area as a repayment.”
“Tell me what you know of the creatures then,” Atres says.
“Dragons, real ones, are large–house–sized or bigger. They have lots of very pointy teeth, long pointy claws, and elemental breath that varies based on their color. They’re capable of speech, but don’t find humans interesting because, and I’m quoting, ‘just as we get to know you, you die of old age’. They’re smart, and some are incredibly old. I was fascinated with them as a child, and sometimes I could get them to tell me stories. Drakes are much the same, but smaller – perhaps the size of two or three oxen. They’re dumb as tree stumps. The big ones claim that they’re not capable of speech and hunt them. Dragonettes are very similar to drakes, but smaller still and lack the forelegs, using their wings and hind legs instead to maneuver on the ground. They’re the size of one or two oxen and even dumber than the drakes.”
“What kind of stories did they tell you?” Atres asks, intensely curious.
“I asked one where dragons came from, and he said an egg. I laughed and told him that I knew they hatched, but I wondered how they came to exist in the first place. Dragons have their own creation story, which states that they were created during a contest among the gods. They all have the same form because that was one of the contest rules. The contest was designed to see which element was strongest. According to them, drakes and dragonettes exist because some of the gods didn’t quite understand the rules, so they made brainless, misshapen creatures. Then the gods released them all because the idea was to let them fight to see which element was the strongest. The dragons, being intelligent, refused to fight each other and flew away. According to dragons, that’s when the gods made people and other creatures to fight for their amusement.”
“What made you think to ask them in the first place?” Atres asks.
“I was an inquisitive child, and once I found out they could talk, I wanted to talk to them,” Emlyn replies, “I think that made them curious about me.”
“Hmmm,” Atres muses, “Seems to me not much has changed. Not afraid of much and intensely curious about everything.”
“What makes you think I’m not afraid?” Emlyn shrugs, “I’ve been in situations where I was absolutely terrified, almost frozen in fear.”
“You weren’t afraid of that wolf,” Atres shrugs, “I’m sure that there are plenty of other things that would scare most people that don’t bother you at all.”
“That’s only because of some of the things I’ve faced,” Emlyn shivers, “that did have me almost pissing myself. Compared to that, a wolf is nothing."
Have you ever had a premonition that turned out to be true?