Chapter Text
Nikeya had brought a book of poems, for there was nothing to do. Entertained as she was, she would steal a glance at the Princess' recuperating figure between the turn of pages. The royal physician had ordered her to be positioned flat on her stomach so the frightful wounds that spread across the bare of her back could breathe. Although less extreme than they originally were, the wounds still looked painful, putting up a fight through the bandages. That was two days past.
At present, she was as peaceful as a pond in spring. Sometimes, small ripples would make itself known—her brows would crease, her jaw would grind, and her hands would twitch. Chosen by the gods, the Princess must have seen abyssal images that poets like her or painters have yet to conjure. Her mortal imagination can only take her so far.
Consciousness has yet to wake the now then Empress of Seiiki.
Nikeya had to constantly remind herself that there was nothing to be worried about. They're in Antuma, where every able mind and body of the highest quality is at the Imperial Family's disposal—such is for the most powerful authorities in the island.
Empress as she was now, to the River Lord's only heir, she's still Princess Dumai, the innocent godsinger from the mountains whom she journeyed with from Sepul to the Twelve Lakes, then to the North in the tall peaks of Mount Brzahat.
At first, Dumai meant nothing but a nuisance for her to conquer.
The nuisance turned out to be a true Noziken, not just in name, but a centuries-due dragon rider, showing her commanding might of Furtia Stormcaller for the first time one night in a banquet. Her connection to the gods intimidated her father—but not his faithful daughter. What a night it was when The Great One showed, never to be forgotten! She knew it would birth hundreds of songs and poems uttered forever in history: the enchanting scene, the smell of brine in air, and the colorful lights reflected from scales. It appealed to all of Nikeya's senses, knocking her breathless. Just merely existing within the dragon's presence, even standing among hundreds of other stricken souls, her person had never felt more singled out and sung to. Her existence, dust in comparison to the Stormcaller, felt like it meant precious value to the world, like it bore a universal meaning that she never knew existed within her. She held the memory close to her heart, how the gods baptized her a moment, and it was all thanks to the Princess' arrival at court.
Only after that was she able to get the dilemmic picture of who she was tasked to conquer. At first, she thought simple logic would win her, that she was merely a person, a simple poet, the daughter of someone too small, ordered to disgrace the divine with silly politics. Her devoutness would have asked her to leave the Princess alone. However, ambition and encouragement from her father diluted the image of the Great Furtia aside. She sank into the unconscious of Nikeya's mind, reverting her to proud nature. In time, there was only the sweet Princess Dumai and the lure to become larger in achievement and power.
Such were her feelings back then. Now, they are entirely new. They have been for quite some time.
The Princess showed her a world outside court. She had learned from her that love for Seiiki and its people can be limitless. The gods love this dragon rider; so does she, but not at first. Nikeya knew accepting this would amount to complications, but complications of no essence for it made her performance more true and convincing. For now, she had kept this from her father.
It was a game she had never played before, a play to win all sides.
Nikeya did as much as she could, expertly to say, to convince Dumai of the genuineness of her loyalty, her individuality separate that from the so-called Lady of Faces or the deceitful daughter of the River Lord- titles that she had grown to dread and have tried so hard to shed. Needless to say, stealthily seated now beside the recovering Princess with her guards and handmaidens unaware, she still has yet to succeed. It's undeserving to say that no progress had been made, but she's discontent, nowhere near where she wants to be.
No matter, she dismissed herself silly, readjusting her attention back to the present, to the verses. Fortunately, Nikeya is as patient as a stubborn plant in a desert, and she's been told all her life that she's 'good.' In time, one of her enduring gifts, either the active or the passive ones, will win her the beloved Princess' favor. She will dream for that day to come, but for now, with the Princess bound to nowhere, back to the poems.
While she internally derided herself for not bringing walnuts, at the corner of her eye, there was movement, slow and ghostly. The Princess's head was up, conscious and searching, but not truly seeing as confusion filled her eyes. The sight jolted and froze Nikeya.
Dumai, in panic, started to breathe hard and fast, possibly delirious from last memory. The wounded Princess attempted to rise, only to be put down by the tearing pain from her back. She whimpered and crumpled and gritted, tears forming at the corner of her eyes. Crimson started to spread lightly on her bindings.
Nikeya mindlessly threw her volume aside and immediately laid a comforting hand on her arm. "Dumai," she soothed. "You're in Antuma. You're still healing. Try not to move as much." Half of her words only seemed to reach her.
"Furtia," She begged for her dragon's name.
"Also healing. I've been told that she's taken harbor in Nirai Hills."
She nodded, her breaths becoming less labored. Nikeya patiently waited for her to calm down.
Juri is not supposed to know of her presence inside the empress' bedchamber for she is forbidden, the Grand Emperor's will. But Dumai needs assistance, which is more important than broken rules she can oil through no matter the rust. She will have to devise a plan to conserve Yapara's confidence, too, for she was the spy who guided her in.
"Lady Nikeya?" Juri turned pale when she peered through the sliding doors.
Before she can be rightfully questioned, Nikeya takes the opportunity of her delay, "The empress is awake. She needs assistance. Inform the grand emperor and the imperial physician at once." The said handmaiden was not alone. Her audience, handmaidens dominated by distant relatives who owe her father allegiance, still staggered at her sudden presence. "Are you all waiting for another doomsday to befall on your feet?" She slid the doors wider to avert their attention from her to the stirring empress. "Alert your officers, ministers, and the Council of State," Nikeya commanded them with compelling urgency.
As people scrambled, she slipped away, blending into the energy by maintaining an urgent manner. She had caused quite the scene. Word will unfortunately reach the Grand Emperor. It would be a massive headache for her and the River Lord to deal with, but in her confident mind, several action plans had already materialized thanks to her years of experience at court.
Nikeya released a held breath once she was in the haven of the Belfry. She continued to walk towards her bedchamber, head heavy with thoughts.
Her work is laid out for her in the coming days, weeks even.
If she does not have a hand in choosing her place, trapped in a dollhouse and trapped by her selfish wishes, better play then, like how she was taught. Not known to all, such is the life of the one called Kuposa pa Nikeya.
She can turn to threats and bluffs or conditional friendships, like how she did Yapara. If she's a tiny tad desperate, she could resort to an unclaimed loyalty by bribing. Or, in the long run, she can vie for a government post to secure more solid support and protection.
Dumai's enthronement to the Rainbow, indeed dealt Nikeya several complications. They're walls and guards apart, but even just a glimpse of the tail end of her imperial robes is enough to convince Nikeya that Antuma is the place where her heart tells her to be.
She will do anything, anything, as long as she can stay by her side, at court or in the skies with her dragon, even in deadly valleys and mountains.