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Ever since she was little, Furina knew she would end up here. On a little island a little ways off of the City of Fontaine, with only a single dock, plenty of cats, and a homely cottage to call her own. It differed from the sprawling palaces she grew up in alongside her sisters, with its expansive gardens, endless hallways, glistening balls, and equally cruel glistening swords aimed at her back. It was why when a chance to get out of there arrived, she took it without a second thought. Training as a knight and with a sword had been grueling, standing strong against her elder sister's ridicule was easy enough. Freedom, was all she wanted. So even when her dear Mother, in an attempt to deter her from this path, told her to come here. To the grave of dragons, to guard the tomb of their foe, Furina had accepted it with grace and joy. This far away from the castle, life was simple and gentle, and the few Fontians, that lived here gave her space. A couple of sisters, ranging from as young as 5 to as old as she was. She would always miss, the arts, the operas, and the theatre, but nothing could beat, the freedom that came with true peace.
Life was not bad, in a graveyard of dragon bones, and stones of the name of creatures long since slain.
The weeks had eventually turned into months, and then into a year. The cottage she lived in, was now brimming with essence of her. Knick-knacks, artworks from the Melusine sisters. Her house was hers, it was lived in, and she loved every bit of it. Life could be a bit monotonous, but she did not mind. There were books to fill her time, the occasional visit to the city to stave off her craving for the Opera, and she always had just enough coins to get herself a bundle of sweet treats at the end of the week.
But life also had a surprise in store for her.
“Miss Furina! Help!” Carole's voice had carried through the open kitchen window. Furina had run outside, her hair still in a messy bun as she brandished her sword.
What greeted her was not one of the girls in trouble. Instead, it was a…man, with his rear glistening in the sun, his (well) toned body stained with mud, and a pair of…was that antennae coming from his head. The white-haired princess had stopped short, mouth agape, before a worried voice jolted her from her spiraling thoughts.
“Furina, I think he’s dead.” Sedene’s blunt delivery was met with a snort as she toddled over and knelt to take a closer look. Little Aeife was prodding the man’s cheek with wide eyes.
“Is this when you bring him back to life with true love’s kiss?” The sputter that left her mouth was an in-elegant sound. A half-choked thing as she inhaled and coughed at the same time.
“N-no Aeife, we do not go around kissing unconscious strangers.” Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw the strawberry-blonde-haired girl pout. “But that’s what…uh Prince Charmed did!”
“It’s Charming, Aeife.”
“Well, what’s charming about hi–”
“Plus isn’t Lady Furina a princess–”
“Prince, princess, it's the same thing right?”
She tuned out the squabbling siblings as she crooked her knuckle beneath his nose. A steady breath warmed her finger. “Girl he’s still alive so let…uh—” Should she put him beneath a tree, that would be quite rude if he was ill. Then that left only one place here. “Let us bring him inside, I think he’s suffered under the sun.” It took all four of them to lug the surprisingly hefty man onto her sofa. It took them another fifteen minutes to coax him into getting some water down his throat with some additional commentary by Sedene and Aeife. Perhaps she should not read them any more fairytales if they keep suggesting…mouth-to-mouth hydration delivery.
By the time the three had gone home, Furina had felt as if she had been running around fighting dragons all day. She loved them, truly, but they could be quite exhausting when they put their mind to it. Even Carole at some point, joined her sisters in teasing her but at the very least, the eldest sister had given her a reassuring hug and a promise to come by tomorrow morning. Left in the dwindling light of sunset, Furina idly wondered if she would find a dead body instead.
In hindsight, it was probably rather dangerous to let a bare man rest on her couch. Then again…she eyed her sword. She was not that defenseless. Her conscience would probably kill her first before she turned out someone in need. The white-haired woman plopped herself onto her over-sided chair, weapon in hand. It took her half an hour more, to gently doze off.
It takes her less than a second to jolt awake at the sound of polite coughing and a man now bundled with the blanket she had draped him with. It takes her another second to level him with the end of her sword. A sword, he unabashedly stared down with eyes that were very much not human. “F-Fu…” His voice was a rasp but what caught her attention was the row of very sharp teeth. Even sharper than the ones of the island’s sisters.
“Furina.” Miss-matched eyes narrowed. “How do you know my name?” Furina’s words were a wary hiss. Was this another assassin? No, what kind would pass out from the sun?
She watched as serpentine, tongue wetted chapped lips. “You sang…to my bones.”
It had been a silly moment, an impromptu thing. She had wondered at that time; if these dragons were lonely, and if a song -as silly as it was -would make their soul happy. She half-recalled the broken plaque embedded in cracked stone.
“ You brought me back.”
Furina’s sword slipped a fraction of a centimeter. It should be impossible. The man -no, the dragon- before she seemed unbothered as he stood. The sheets fell. The princess refused to let her eyes wander as her face burned. Furina’s blade was seemingly nothing more than a light annoyance as it scraped the thin layer of scales against his neck. The cut she left as she stood her ground, bled the color that reminded her of crushed roses. It did not bother him in the slightest. His eyes were narrowed, searching, and it seemed as if he found what he was looking for as he let out an amused and pleased hum.
Furina's scowl only deepened as she stood up straight.
“You know my name. Say it.”
“Stay still,” she ground out. The warning tone was ignored. She pressed harder.
Carmine trickled down the silver of her blade and stained her hilt. His breath painted mist against the metal. The dragon took another step forward. Red kissed her fingers as Furina stubbornly stood still. Her breath hitched, as the pad of his thumb found her throat.
“Say my name, and I shall do as you ask.”
She could feel it on her tongue, a name, a power.
It slipped out, a siren’s call.
“Neuvillette.” The last sovereign, the last true ruler of these stolen lands. A being that was supposed to be dead. He chuckled and the rumble that went through her felt akin to magic.
“Neuvillette, step back.”
“As you wish, my princess.”
What…did I get myself into?