Sacrificed to the Dragon Prince

013: Pushing Boundaries

[Millicent]

On that first evening, I just laid down on the floor of the main hall and wept until the fire was burned down to ashes, my body aching and confused by everything I was feeling. I hate Primus. Every part of me hates him. He trapped me here, bullied me, and treated me like another shiny bauble in his horde to put on display and put away whenever it pleased him. But then he also does these strangely kind things that baffle me because of how much consideration it shows he has in my regard. Things like sending me Leon or making that deal with me and only asking for a dance in exchange, how he listened when I asked him not to kill those men. He didn't need to do any of those things, but he did.

Why would he do these types of things for someone who means so little to him?

As my heart beats erratically, my skin afire with tingles and longing, I feel betrayed by my body, which seems to crave his touch after only a brief taste of it, going against everything my logical brain is telling me. How can I both hate him and want him in equal measure?

Yet I cannot deny that some part of me has been drawn to him since our very first encounter. He is more terrifying than even the cruelest lord in Crimson, and yet I feel challenged to be strong and brave in front of him. He seems to prefer it when I stand up to him, which is the opposite of what most people want in a servant. He often seems angrier with me when I'm meek or timid. With Primus, I’m not just tolerated in his presence, he genuinely enjoys challenging me.

For those very same reasons, it is also very difficult to be around Primus. It is hard to be around someone who feels they must push me around and force me to do things I'm uncomfortable doing, someone constantly pushing against my limits and boundaries just to see me fight back.

And yet, he is far kinder to me, even in his cruelty, than anyone in Crimson had been. There I was judged on sight, from the moment of my arrival, never given a chance to show my worth. I wish I could forget the unkindness I endured, but my mind won’t let me. I can remember every harsh word, every slap, every abuse of my body, mind, and spirit. Not just remember it, but relive it. I can see their faces, feel their feet and their fists, smell their breath, the dust of the streets, and the taste of my blood in my mouth. The weight of those memories pulls me down. Sometimes, speaking with Primus as he judges me and finds me wanting, feels like he’s standing on top of all that weight, pushing me down even further into the mud.

My mind also holds onto every happy moment as well. Shining and bright, more precious because there are so few of them. My time with Leon makes up many of those happier memories. His kindness. The warmth of his arms as he embraces me. The way he shows patience as he teaches me. The way his eyes laugh when he smiles at me or how he thinks I'm good enough, worthy of affection. It is relaxing to be in his presence. I can let myself just be myself, without worrying if my words might doom a village.

But Leon also lacks Primus' intensity. The dragon prince is a creature of extremes--vibrant and passionate, cruel and awe-inspiring. Leon is the exact opposite muted and mellow, kind and calming.

Leon is everything that Primus is not, that Primus is incapable of being.

But then again, Primus is a dragon. Leon is human. I cannot expect the two of them to have much in common.

On my second day alone, I decided to stop my moping. Nobody was here to see me and ridicule my misery, but that didn't mean I needed to wallow in it.

I didn't feel like leaving my chamber, so after I stripped out of the ridiculous decoration that Primus had called a dress and insisted I wear to dinner, I began to explore my room in only my base layers. My skin prickled a bit at the cold as my bare skin acclimated to the morning air, but I also felt so much lighter and that freedom made me hesitate to wear the dressing gown that I saw laid out at the foot of my bed.

Feet bare, I tip-toed into the main part of the room. Since arriving, I only spent time in my room to sleep or to endure whatever torture was necessary to press me into whatever costume was expected to appear in to be deemed "presentable." Well, today, I have no intention of pleasing anyone but myself, and I am not pleased when tied down in 5 layers of dress, petticoat, slip, and corset.

I also haven't been here long enough to get settled, so I have no idea what little surprises await me in the corners of this space that has been designated for my use. For example, I discovered that the tub can be operated by pulling levers that deliver hot water directly through metal tubes that come up through the floor! No need to bring in buckets from the fire! I had wondered how the maids had managed to prepare my bath so quickly, considering the size of this place.

Along the wall furthest from my bed I also discovered a cupboard where the maids have been storing my new clothing. I originally thought it was a broom cupboard, but when I opened the doors I found row after row of fine gowns hanging in bags with colors ranging from russet to emerald, each adorned in some obscenely expensive way. Some had layers of lace delicate and light, others shone like miniature suns they were so bejeweled with crystals and fine gemstones. Each one had been tailored to fit me, which seemed impossible because how could any tailor craft so many garments in such a short amount of time?

Below each dress is a matching set of shoes. There were also shelves full of gloves, fans, hats, and jewelry. The mayor's wife has something similar, but it is much smaller and built into the side of her bedroom. This is a whole room just for dresses. Why would anyone need this many dresses? Why did Primus think I would need this many dresses?

It took a bit of searching, but eventually, I found the dresser with the simple dresses, aprons, stockings, and shoes. It was almost as if nobody wanted me to find these items, as tucked away and hidden as they were. All of these garments are items that are hardy, practical, and can be worn without assistance. On a shoe rack beside it is a row of sturdy boots in various colors and a shelf with ordinary leather gloves.

It was also on this day that I discovered that food was still being prepared, somewhere, and delivered directly to my room. I have not seen anyone, nor has anyone knocked, and yet three times a day there is a tray waiting for me just outside the door. When I am done, the dishes themselves seem to disappear as if they were never there. I tried requesting specific foods by shouting at my door, but that didn’t work. Apparently, It doesn't matter how many times you scream "chocolate cake" you will not get chocolate cake unless the castle deems it necessary.

Stupid castle.

And this is how I spent my next two days alone, exploring cupboards, practicing my lessons, grumping at the walls of my room, and taking very long baths.

Today marks five days since I have seen anyone. Five days of unending silence other than the sound of my voice. I never thought I'd wish for the sound of Primus' voice, but at this point, I'd rather have someone to argue with than nobody to talk to at all.

I can smell the choice the house has made for breakfast as I stretch, my eyes blinking in the early morning light. Crawling over the enormous cushions of my bed, I flop out onto the floor and walk to the door, willing it open with thoughts and words. “Breakfast smells delicious, I would like my door to open,” I say. I've taken to being complementary to the castle in the hopes that it might listen and maybe show me some kindness in return.

The door slides open easily. On a silver tray is a large bowl of paste-like mush topped with fruit and cream, a large silver spoon rests beside it on a finely embroidered napkin. Next to that is a steaming-hot dark black fluid in a thick ceramic cup. I pick up the tray and smell the liquid. It has a harsh, spicy odor. Taking a quick tongue-searing sip, I find that it is not entirely terrible. It burns its trail all the way down to my gut. Taking another sip, I feel myself warming from the inside out, energized for my day.

Mulling over the contents of my breakfast, I also consider how I should spend my day. Another day of exploring my room doesn't appeal as much to me as it did the days before. So as I eat breakfast, I decide that today would be a good day to leave my room and see how far I can go.

So I made a mental checklist of what I am planning to explore. Firstly, I want to figure out where Primus sleeps. Where are the servants' quarters and what do they look like? Is there a kitchen? Where is it? Can I visit the garden without Leon? Is it possible to leave?

Walking up to my door, I will it to open. "I would like to exit this room."

It doesn't budge.

"Not this again," I curse the door, the castle, and Primus for keeping me trapped. "How come you'll let the food come in but I cannot go out?"

It doesn't answer.

I try again. "Open, please?" but nothing changes. The door remains fixed.

"Is it because I want to find a way out?" I wonder. "Is it because I want to see if I can leave and the castle can read my mind?"

I wait.

"Fine!" yelling at no one in particular, I storm off, taking my cup with me to sit near the fire pit. "So be it!"

The doors open for mealtimes. That's when I'll make my move.

For the next four hours, I kept myself entertained around the room. I'm not used to being idle. Idleness has always been punished, as I am expected to spend every moment of my day tending to the needs of others. So sitting still, watching a door, and waiting goes against all of my training from my life before this.

Nervous and unable to settle, I move around the room tidying things, and opening cupboards I have already explored to see if anything has changed. The desire to leave is welling up from inside, itching its way to the surface to the point where I'm scratching my arms as if that could relieve the pressure. But until that door opens, I'm trapped here. I even take a few minutes to pull out my reading practice hoping it will calm my nerves. Anything to keep me from feeling trapped. Neither Leon nor Primus knows about my anxiety at feeling trapped. I don't plan for them to know, ever.

By the time lunch arrives, I am a tightly wound spring, ready to pounce at the door as soon as it opens.

Which of course it doesn't.

"I'd just like my food now," I try to convince it. "Please can I have my food?"

The door doesn't budge.

"Please?" I beg. "I'm not lying. I am hungry!"

A small slot opens up at the bottom of the door. Kneeling, I push it open and look through. A sandwich waits on one of those golden plates and a tall glass of cold goat's milk. "Very funny, " I murmur to no one in particular as I drag the plate into the room. "You know what, Primus, I thought I was your guest. This is not how you treat a guest!"

Sitting there, taking a bite out of my delightful sandwich, I remember something from my first night here.

The windows can open.

Gulping down a large swallow of the milk, I set my food down and march across the room to the window the furthest from the end, the one closest to the next room. Primus would never suspect that I'd try for a window, with us being so high up. But if there is a window in this room, there are likely to be windows in the room next door as well, and maybe that room will have a traditional door, one that I don't have to think good thoughts to open.

Standing on one of the window seats, I rest my head on the pane and look down.

It is a very long way down.

This is a terrible idea. Why am I doing this?

Reaching up, my hands find the lever to open the window. It is cold, slick with condensation, and slippery. My hands slide off as I pull down. It takes a few tries, but eventually, I feel a satisfying pop as it releases.

Standing I push the window open the rest of the way. Peeking my head out the window, my hair is whipped across my face by a strong gust of wind. This room is built directly into the side of the mountain. Looking to my left, I can see the crystal corridor that leads to this wing of the keep. Looking to my right, a single window before the wall ends abruptly, butted by the side of the mountain.

I wonder if that is Primus' room?

Directly below my window is the barest sliver of ledge. It is curved and elegant, grown to match the trim and roof tiles. It is about half the width of my foot and shines brightly in the sunlight.

Maybe if I use the windows as a handhold, I can make it to the window next door.

Turning my back to the view, I reach down with my right foot.

The toe of my boot finds the ledge, and I begin to ease myself out of the window carefully, testing the weight. The crystal panes are very slick, but my hands can find small finger holds along the metal frames of the windows.

The wind stills. Turning my head towards my goal I begin to inch along.

To my left, I hear a flapping sound.

I turn my head slightly.

Two angry eyes, glowing with a bright green flame, glare in my direction as a terrifyingly large dragon approaches.

I scream.

. My hands slip.

Still screaming, It takes my mind a few minutes to realize I am falling.