Handmaiden

The severed head of the last black dragon looked miserable to Artemis. It didn"t appear at all to be the ferocious, merciless, wicked beast she had been told to imagine. It was hardly the reflection of evil that her father had woven into her bedtime stories so that her rambunctious younger self would behave. At least it didn"t seem that way to her, as she lingered in the dining hall and stared uneasily up at it. She would never speak these thoughts out loud, though. They would think she was mad—her father would have whipped her. The dark ones were evil, and that was widely known. The dragon"s once brilliant, green eyes were now pale and glazed over with a white film so that she could barely see the slits of its pupils. The sagging jaw hung a little to the right, giving the head a laughably silly expression that made her uncomfortable. The others in castle had just laughed or cheered when they saw the black beast in such a pathetic state, but Artemis wished that she could straighten it. Perhaps she was weak or more scared of it than she was consciously admitting, but reducing the once mighty entity to this didn"t sit well in her gut. What if the corpse cursed them? To further her discomfort, she was sure the dead dragon was female. One horn on the sagging side of the face had been broken off at the root during the battle that was ultimately the dragon"s demise, but the horn that remained pointed backwards along the skull was small and sharp. Aside from that, only female dragons had one horn on the ridge of their nose instead of the male"s customary two. This one had one horn. Female dragons were by no means weaker – sometimes they were even more savage than the males but more often than not they had calmer dispositions, more adapt with strategy than that of male dragons. Artemis often thought that if she ever had a dragon, she would have liked for it to be female and an image came to her mind of her riding the rare and hated black dragon in front of her – her hair as dark as the its scales, flying out behind her, her robes torn without care. She didn"t allow the thoughts to last more than a few moments though, and even then she felt a slight stab of guilt. "These are treasonous thoughts..." "Ah sister, are you admiring my prize?" a voice she hadn"t heard in so long rung out behind her. She spun around, and couldn"t stop the wild smile aimed at her brother as he approached. The first thing she noticed was how tired he looked; his face gaunt from malnutrition and his dusty, black and possibly permanently wind-blown hair looked like it might have been singed a bit. His back was still straight though, his dark eyes – so similar to her own – were sincere. When he was almost at her side she dipped into a small, mocking bow. "Black dragon slayer, Lane." He just laughed and shoved her lightly back. "Stop it. I can"t even take you seriously when you do that." Artemis straightened, still smiling. "And I can"t believe you actually hunted this dragon down. It could have killed you." He gave her a slightly puzzled look. "Anyone else would have done the same. I am just lucky enough to ride and fight beside a dragon who isn"t scared of a little blood." Artemis grimaced. "No one in their right mind would go looking for a black dragon... and Razorit isn"t scared of any amount of blood." "Well he"s made a name for himself so it was worth it," he said dismissively and before she could even decide whether she cared to ask what the dragon"s new title might be, he continued, "He"s Razorit the Nightbreaker now." Her heart lifted a little in discomfort. "So he can take a mate now?" she asked, nervous. It was never written in stone, but as far as Artemis knew it was considered taboo for a dragon to take a mate without first earning a title. Lane shrugged, uncaring, but Artemis knew it was simply because he didn"t know how uncomfortable his ruthless green dragon made her when they were alone together. His orange eyes stalked her like a hound stalking a sheep, except this was no mere hound. This was a dragon who could twist himself into human form. If he had earned himself a title among his kin by slaying the last black dragon, she had no doubt he would be granted the highest of honors and the greatest respect. He could have whatever he wanted. The thought made her shift on her feet. What if he asked for her hand in marriage? Her feelings for him were not mutual. He was far too violent and if the black dragon"s death had proved anything more, it was that he was also too impulsive. "Where is he now?" she found herself asking, trying to restrain the anxiousness in her voice. "Sleeping off the last of his battle wounds before the celebration. He should wake up soon." The comment surprised her. "How injured is he?" Lane ran a hand through his curtain of black hair. "We had a dog fight with the last black dragon in the world, Arty. She was fighting for survival. He"ll have a few mean looking scars for the rest of his life." She tried to show some sympathy for the green dragon, really she did, but in truth she knew the scars were probably nothing compared to the recognition he was going to get in the next coming months. If anything, she was sure he would wear them proudly, as a reminder to others of what he had faced. If only the dark dragon had wounded his ego, instead of just his body. They stood in silence for many moments, just staring at the skewered dragon head that loomed over the oak table. On top of avoiding Razorit, she was sure she wasn"t going to be able eat normally with the pale, dead eyes staring at her while she chewed. It was going to be a long night, she could feel it. But with her brother finally returned home safe and sound after months of fruitless searching for the last black dragon known to man, following nothing but rumors, she decided to straighten her shoulders and lift her chin. She would not ruin his night. The last thing she wanted to do was drive her only family away. It was sad how much she had cried when he left. "Do you think father would have be proud?" Lane suddenly asked, his voice quiet. Artemis just laid a gentle hand on his back. It was only because of this did she truly realize how thin he had gotten from his time away. The shoulder blade beneath her palm was pointy, with little mass left. "Why would you ask that?" Her brother merely shrugged and his shoulders drooped even further. "It never feels like enough." Artemis could only nod. Boy, did she know that feeling. Certainly even more than Lane could have known it. He was the favorite. He had a dragon and she had little to provide for the family in the ways of honor. Even marriage – her only real value – was diminished because she was petrified of the concept. It hadn"t pleased her late father. Kendric, her betrothed, was a kind boy though. Well, he was once a boy. She supposed he was much more of a man now but she hadn"t seen him in years. Trying to be discrete, she counted backwards with the fingers laid against Lane"s tunic. "One...two...three..." she thought, furrowing her eyebrows further each time she curled another digit in. "Three whole years since I"ve see him." It was kind of an embarrassing fact, but he had said he would wait until she was ready to be wedded. At the time she was relieved. Now she wondered if she would still be horrified at the concept of marriage if she had just gotten it out of the way. He would be a lord and she would be his lady. She liked his beautiful white dragon well enough, and if they had been married she wouldn"t have had to deal with Razorit. Now the green beast could have anything he wanted, and she knew she would have to be careful that he did not straight up demand that her betrothal be extinguished...or worse. Artemis shook the thoughts away. "Don"t worry about father. You know he"s proud. So am I." He let out a sigh, but she could tell he was just shaking off the doubt for now. "Thanks Arty," he said before playfully ruffling her hair and succeeding in making her laugh, "But you better not just be trying to worm your way out of the celebration tonight." "You caught me," she chortled, wrestling out of his brotherly embrace with a shove. "I know I did. Your skin is so translucent I can see right through you." "Truth now, you"re just scared of dealing with Razorit"s obnoxious ego all by your one-some." He ran a pale hand through his black hair once more. "Oh c"mon it"s not that bad." "It"s bad..." she said honestly, and brought her hands up to cover her sympathetic smile as she repeated it. "It"s so bad." Her brother nudged her. "Alright, alright," he allowed. They turned finally away from the drooping head and began their departure from the dining hall. "Just don"t tell the King-Of-The-West that. Especially on his big night." Artemis burst out laughing, which earned her a pleasantly puzzled look from her brother. If he meant for the phrase to be funny, she wasn"t sure. She liked it anyway. The king of the west was once the mightiest of the black dragons – a Greatfather – who held so much hatred for humans that he burned his own kingdom to the ground and set himself on fire when asked to partner with humanity. It was his insanity that led to the annihilation of his own dark kin, down to the very last female dragon that hung so sadly on the spike above their table. She could only imagine Razorit"s fit if he heard himself compared to the most hated of all dragonkind. "Don"t worry," Artemis said after one last look back at the head before the gap in the wooden doors sealed, "I won"t mention a thing."