Mialyn story by Lyndsay E. Gilbert
Mialyn entered Thayden’s bedroom warily, unsure of the state in which she would find her fiancé. The place was dimly lit, several candles burning low at the bedside table and more on the holders along the walls.
Thayden lay on the bed, one tattooed arm placed across his face to hide his eyes. Mialyn clutched her healing kit tighter and made her way to his side.
“Thayden?” She asked, setting the kit on the bedside, careful to keep it away from the burning candles, “Thayden.” She called again.
He responded by giving a small groan, and Mialyn lifted his arm away from his face. His usually bronzed complexion was highly paled, save for two burning patches of crimson on his cheeks. He was fevered, and his brow was creased, even as he lay there barely conscious. Her grandfather had refused him admittance to the medical bay and any doctor was forbidden from visiting him.
Mialyn knew that by rights he should have been executed. No man lived to see the next minute after attempting to kill Osiris Descouedres. Her Grandfather merely kept Thayden alive because he was intrigued. Mialyn had spoken with him only moments before and he showed no sign of relenting his desire to keep Thayden under the wrap of the slave collar. She supposed in a way he was only sane to do so.
Thayden had been highly foolish to move against the King of Epsilon. Still, Mialyn’s own pride was hurt. She should not be made to marry a man whilst her was degraded so by the enchanted collar.
She was Princess, a princess of many worlds and Thayden was a warrior- a brave man who deserved her hand in marriage as much as any man- Prince or Commoner, Slave or free. He had proved himself worthy and so he should be honoured.
Mialyn had attempted to argue so with her Grandfather but her father had silenced her and sent her to do her duty to Thayden, and aid him in a time of need with her knowledge in healing.
By the Draconian patriarch it was her place to heal and tend to her family, and so Mialyn had been taught well the arts of healing, not only of Draconian Healing but of Epsilonian and though forbidden, of Demshalle also.
Katryna had labelled her a skilled student with a natural aptitude, and as Mialyn ran her hands over Thayden’s brow she could tell immediately that her Grandfather had torn energy through Thayden’s mind and aura. Blood stained his cheeks below his eyes. The wards on his slave collar were still lit and Mialyn could see that there was a ring of blood beneath the collar where it had tightened and cut. Thayden was indeed lucky to be alive.
Mialyn set to work, taking out the apt herbs and using her magick to boil the cup of water she had brought. She stewed the herbs she needed and allowed the potion to cool before placing a hand under Thayden’s head and titling it up to pour the warm liquid into his mouth. It poured easily down his throat and Mialyn laid him back down, satisfied.
Next she brought out her healing pastes and rubbed them over his eyes, opening the lids and smoothing some into his eye whites. Still, the sleeping warrior did not wake.
Her hardest task was the magick involved in loosening the hateful collar, but after several failed attempts with ward magick she managed to place her little finger under and smooth some of the paste onto the red ring of blood.
Thayden woke at that. Sitting up instantly, and reaching out for his sword. When he saw that it was Mialyn that stood before him, he relaxed, pushing himself into a sitting stance and smiling wanly at his fiancée.
“How are you feeling?” Mialyn asked, her eyes being drawn against her will to stare at the tattoos running over his smooth bronze chest and his finely muscled stomach. He was naked save for a white linen loincloth, which was embroidered with Draconian symbols, she read them seeing that it was his family name. Then she blushed furiously when she saw that he was watching her, knowing where she looked.
He smiled flirtatiously and she turned abruptly to her healing kit, placing the pastes and herbs into the bag again. She hated herself for this, she should never show her emotions, she never did before strangers. And Thayden was a stranger. He should not be so brazen.
She turned back to him, “You have not answered my question. How are you feeling?”
“Better.” He was quiet for a moment, and Mialyn saw pain and confusion in his eyes, “I thought I would kill him Mialyn. My sword was in my hands before I understood what was happening…I still do not recall what truly happened, only that he was laughing terribly and I was bleeding tears of blood….and that I…” He stopped, “I have acted foolishly…”
“Yes.” Mialyn spoke simply, coldly, “You have acted foolishly. All must come to bow to Osiris that wishes to live until his reign is passed. All must live in subjection of a kind, the way of life. You should simply leave and go home if you are not going to accept this. Osiris Descouedres is my Grandfather, and you must do all my family honour.”
Thayden’s voice was laced with contempt, “You are the daughter of Kaylas, you are not the daughter of Epsilon. I do not marry a princess of Epsilon, for I am not a traitor.”
Mialyn shook her head, “I am a daughter of many worlds. And while we are here I am a Princess of Epsilon. Do not presume to tell me what I am Thayden Shirou.”
“You will be my wife Mialyn, and I may be a common boy but I know what type of woman I want to marry. And I will marry Mialyn Istarei. I have no love of Epsilon, I will not pretend to.” Thayden flexed his wings, a haughty expression on his handsome face.
“Then leave and return to your farm.”
“I won your hand, many died there around me trying. I will not dishonour them, nor you and I will never dishonour Kaylas. Do not tell me to leave- I will be your husband Mialyn.”
“For a farm boy you are arrogant…I am not your wife yet- I am your princess.”
“I may be from a farming village - but I am a warrior and as worthy as any princess. You would shame your father if he heard you talking so.”
Mialyn blushed with fury this time, “I have said nothing shameful.”
“Mialyn.” It was her father’s disapproving voice that answered, “Are you obedient?” he asked, his tone cool and commanding.
She turned to face him and gave a respectful bow, “Yes, Father, I am obedient.”
“Then do not behave so rudely.”
Mialyn’s cheeks burned crimson still, but some other emotion flared within her and she looked deeply into her father’s black eyes, “I was not being rude- only truthful.”
“You were being rude, daughter. I ask again- are you obedient?”
Mialyn sighed, “Yes, Father.”
“Then you will not argue further with me- apologize to Thayden.”
There followed a moment of stony silence, but Mialyn eventually turned to the boy on the bed and bowed, “My apologies Thayden Shirou.”
Cole stepped up to the bedside, surveying his future son-in-law with a critical eye, “I see you are repaired. Enough to leave your bed?”
In response Thayden stood from the bed and bowed deeply, “Yes, my King.” He straightened and Mialyn saw the awe and respect in his eyes as he stood before her father.
She knew that her father was pleased with her healing work, though it was not custom to say so. When Mialyn worked the art for any other member of the Descouedres family she was thanked profusely, despite the discomfort such praise often brought.
One should not be praised for a duty- and all standing in the room understood that. Still, her father nodded approvingly at Thayden’s recovery and then walked slowly to the window, folding his arms and peering out across the gardens below with a steady cold gaze.
His gi was black and embroidered with white and red threads that depicted the ancient tale of Kaylas’s battle with the Unseelie King. The long sleeves of the gi fell down from his crossed arms and Mialyn could see that Thayden too was examining the beautiful needlework, and recognising the age old tale that it told.
Thayden’s meditation was disrupted when Cole spoke, “I think that now it would be fitting for you and I to have a serious talk Thayden of Shirou…there is much you must learn about Epsilon.”
At the mention of the world, the boy stiffened, and Mialyn knew that her father had observed Thayden’s manner, “Mialyn- leave us. You will see to dinner this evening.”
Mialyn bowed, “Yes father.” She could not resist throwing Thayden a small glare as she walked from the room, but it was a glare he returned with full force.
* * *
Mialyn prepared the dinner early, wishing more than anything that Ceres would leave and entertain herself elsewhere. They stood together in the kitchen and though Ceres had little training as a chef she contradicted everything that Mialyn did or said. The dinner took twice the time it should have and when Mialyn finished covering it for preservation she left the quarters in a hurry, making her way to where the rehearsals for the Royal Dance were taking place.
The Hall was brightly lit and Mialyn entered quietly, allowing herself to slip into the shadows cast around the thick red velvet curtains of the fore stage.
The dancers did not practice on the stage, but the floor had been cleared of the seating and a stage floor had been laid down to cover the normal rich golden rugs and black carpeting. To the far corner the all male orchestra was seated, and the agitated conductor could be seen taking sips from his water canteen which no doubt held a liquid that was not water.
The Royal Guard, situated along the outer walls had not seen Mialyn slip into the room and she was pleased with herself and wary of their lack of attention. She saw that they were young, and only a few had been trained by her father that she recognized. Their focus was not on the safety of those in the room and Mialyn did not have to look far to see why they were distracted thus.
Her cousin stood in the centre of a circle of dancers, all seated save for her and for the Epsilonian master of arts, the writer and director of the Dance. Sorsha looked flushed and as Mialyn concentrated on the two people she realised that they were arguing. Sorsha’s green eyes blazed with fury, nothing short of the full passion that the woman brought to the dance floor with her.
Sorsha had just recovered from the birth of Celestrian triplets but she looked stunning as ever, dressed in her practice dancing gown of deep red flowing silks. Her pumps too were red and sparkled alluringly as did her diamond studded black tights that stretched over her long and shapely legs.
It was little wonder that the men were staring- but they should not be distracted! Mialyn made a mental note to inform her father of the present guard in the theatre.
Whatever the Princess and the director had been arguing about was soon finished. Mialyn watched as an unsatisfied Sorsha stormed angrily yet with the utmost grace to her place marked on the floor by a white chalked ‘X’.
The conductor hurriedly put away his canteen and turned to face his instrumentalists, striking up an impressive piece that sent chills running through Mialyn from the very first note.
Sorsha moved with all the grace of a tiger stalking its prey, she seemed deadly as she danced, entrancing and bewitching- all the things Epsilon frowned upon in a woman. The guards attention drew even further away from thoughts of weaponry and lookout. Their eyes were quite obviously transfixed on Sorsha and she danced like a flame, her red skirts twirling about her, contrasting with her long ebony curls that fell about her hips.
Mialyn saw several of the dancing girls that sat around the princess mouthing ‘witch’ at each other, and she rolled her eyes, turning her attention back to Sorsha. In an instant she sensed that something was amiss.
Sorsha’s male counterpart had joined the dance and they were moving together in a way that would have been highly inappropriate for the Imperial Princess of Epsilon in any other circumstance but a dance. Their body movements were fluid and they seemed to flow into each other, parting and meeting and then dancing for moments in a disjointed seemingly violent fashion.
Mialyn forced herself to loose interest in the moves, allowing her warrior sight to take control and see the scene for all that it really was.
The male dancer rested one hand on Sorsha’s hip and Mialyn searched for where he placed his other hand. It was then she saw the flash of silver as he took a small sickle knife from his pocket.
Mialyn moved in instinct, and to those that watched it seemed as though the young red headed woman had appeared from thin air. Her sword was in her hands and she sliced accurately through the man’s arm. It fell, still clutching the dagger to the floor and Mialyn raised her sword arm again, in time to see that Sorsha was holding a fan and that the man’s head was now falling to lie beside his severed arm. Sorsha’s metal edged fan was smeared in blood and her face was flushed but void of any emotion.
The man’s body slumped lastly to the floor at Sorsha’s feet and she stepped back disdainfully. The guards had come to circle them, but too late. Sorsha glared coldly at them, “Remove this mess from my sight.” As she spoke she reached down and lifted the dagger from the detached hand, reading the symbol on its hilt, “The Brotherhood.” She hissed, throwing the dagger into the man’s back- it sunk with precision into his dead heart.
“Inform my father of this.” Mialyn ordered, turning on the guards now, “Inform him immediately of your failure.”
* * *
Current Mood: 
confused 
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
fallyn_raine's journal
bouncy
JOY!!! JOY!!! JOY!!!
cold
tired
accomplished
blah
anxious