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Ève was never meant to be queen.
It was, of course, the title she had taken when she wed the love of her life. A man with a smile like sunshine, a heart as warm and vast as the rich flower fields to Firene’s east, with lanceplay that could bring even the strongest warriors of Brodia to heel—a skill with no peer, the best in Western Elyos.
That man was the young king of Firene.
And yet Ève, humble priestess to the Divine Dragon, and daughter to a count of some small renown, had been the one to catch his eye. In her house’s bid for more influence and acclaim, she was ferried about the royal courts; the expected fate of Firenese noble daughters. To build reputation, learn the intricacies of politics and etiquette, and through newly formed connections, obtain a husband, an alliance between noble houses, or gain the favor of the royal family and rise to positions of high status.
But she never quite fit into the picture of noblewomen strolling about with their fans and parasols, giggling over chivalrous knights. Playing games of rejection, affection, and courtly love.
She was a solemn sort. A golden chrysanthemum—gliding through the courts a vision of beauty, her cascades of shimmering blonde hair never failing to catch an eye. And yet, her eyes were drawn to none, nor her affections.
She was a golden chrysanthemum: gentle in its beauty, yet gilded in its unattainability. A goddess of slighted love.
Ironic, then, that all but one would give up in their pursuits. That Firene’s warm and kind young prince—soon-to-be king, in a matter of years—would be drawn to her. That she would find herself drawn to him in turn.
In a sense, she had been the honey trap her parents wanted, but Ève loved the man who attended prayers with her. The man who excitedly recited verses of Divine Dragon scripture. Who often brought her flowers (chrysanthemums, and a cheeky little smile), easing her worries when tales of a growing war between Brodia and Elusia buzzed through the courts, concerns of Brodia turning their greed and ambition upon Firene next. Of the dark rumors being true, and Elusia working to restore the Fell Dragon one day.
He told her many stories of Divine Dragon Lumera. Their mysterious, hallowed goddess, that only the royal family had the privilege to visit and behold. Stories of her warmth and majesty, of a beautiful ivory dragon hidden within the form of a gorgeous woman.
Her love of windflowers, and the faint loneliness in her kind eyes.
And Ève often wondered—could a god truly feel lonely? One that has lived thousands of years, who sat on top of the world, and had everything they could ever ask for. A god so displaced from the struggles and failings of humanity.
But then—
She loses her love to the plague, only years after they wed. Their two beautiful children are robbed of a father.
She wasn’t supposed to become Queen Ève, Firene’s monarch.
She wasn’t supposed to learn of the painful, gnawing loneliness her love witnessed in the Goddess’ eyes.
Never could she hold Queen Lumera’s name in vain.
But on some nights she wonders, watching the stars, had the Goddess seen fit to share her own loneliness and pain?
Lumera has been queen for as long as she can remember.
Her memory and experiences spanned several millennia. It is difficult to conjure an accurate number these days, but she knows that it is at least three—three-thousand years, of being the one tasked to watch over Elyos.
For much of that time, the weight of the world had been lessened by the support of her loved ones. Her parents, her friends, her fellow dragon tribes… Fire, Mage, Divine. Plentiful, during those times.
And for it, Elyos flourished.
The land’s vitality was blessed through the powers of the Emblems and the Divine, as Mage Dragons breathed their magic into the earth—particularly in their home of Eastern Elyos… Elusia, it would be called in the current day.
Lumera had been chosen to become the heir to the Divine Dragons from a young age, always acting according to her duty.
The humans were beautiful, if a bit inclined to folly and chaos. Even as she wished to help shepherd and guide them, her role has always been clear: one of the dragon tribe must never directly interfere in human affairs. They must not view dragons as a crutch; they must have the will to support and live for themselves.
Even amongst her kin, she was to be seen as a ruler—the goddess that so many humans kneeled to in hope and prayer. She could not speak with just anyone, could not travel where she liked. The only time she ventured the world was the Ritual of the Rings every thousand years, collecting them from the royal families to use their world-altering power for the benefit of the land.
There was always an image to curate, a distance to maintain, and it was so very…
Lonely.
But she did not know true loneliness. Not until the Fell Dragon emerged from the seeming ether—a foreign presence, never before seen in Elyos, wielding powers of dark that had no place in their world. He subjugated other dragons, controlled them through fear, or swayed them with promises of the Emblems’ power, using those alliances to birth even more children of his own. Wayward dragon children and the shambling ghouls of the undead, unleashed upon the populace.
Humans, dragons, all life—none was spared Sombron’s wrath.
At the end of it all, Lumera stands alone. Truly alone. Her parents gone. Her friends gone. The one she intended to bequeath her Pact Ring to—gone. No longer was there a Divine Dragon tribe… but a singular Divine Dragon.
The Divine Dragon Queen, survived on the backs of all who came before her. All who supported and loved her.
And even as a small glimmer of light shone through the darkness of her heart, Sombron sees fit to steal that, too. That poor child. Her child—one she wished to love and cherish, to give a better life than their father ever would.
Even if it meant her life, she would save them. That child. Her Alear.
…Perhaps the reward would be an eventual deliverance from her own solitude.
After her wedding, Ève had become part of the Firene royal family—humble Dragon priestess to queen consort, an ascension that sent her family over the moon. Married into royalty! One could not hope for a better alliance, such a grand consolidation of status and power. Truly, was her house the new envy of their many peers.
But none of that mattered, for she would now share her life with the person she loved.
Alfred’s blessed birth came a year after their marriage, and Céline’s four years after that. But their firstborn’s training started early, far too early for a boy of his age. Instruction on statecraft, on diplomacy, even on the basics of combat and lanceplay, an alarming thing to Ève. For Firene was at peace, and there would hardly be a need for Alfred to know how to fight when he was hardly out of his bib.
Yet when she thinks of her husband’s dimming light over the years, how his frail constitution left him confined in their chambers, more bedridden than not, she realizes—perhaps he knew his time was coming. Perhaps he wanted to teach Alfred everything he could before then.
And now their boy, their beautiful boy, had the same affliction.
Visits to the Somniel had been conducted by her husband, but once the children were born, those trips became family affairs. A chance to connect Alfred and Céline with their faith, and strengthen the bonds between Firene’s royal line and Queen Lumera. But Ève had no idea the Divine Dragon had a child of her own—not until she visited the Holy Altar and beheld them herself. A youth of red and blue hair, sleeping the most peaceful sleep.
Alfred had been enamored instantly. It was adorable.
But this year’s visit comes with a bitter sting, as Ève arrives at Lythos Castle with her eight year old son and four year old daughter. The absence of her husband was keenly felt in their hearts, as well as the weight of solemnity in Queen Lumera’s eyes.
“...He was a wonderful man.” Lumera smiles sadly, “On behalf of the Divine Dragons and the whole of Lythos, you have my deepest condolences, Queen Ève. And my well wishes, for your recent ascension to the throne. If there is anything you need, please do not hesitate to consult with me.”
Ève folds her hands at her front, leaning forward in an automatic bow of reverence. Alfred follows suit, and young Céline stares curiously at them both, slow to imitate what she sees. “Thank you, my Queen. It brings my heart much relief to have your support.”
The Queen of Dragons nods, and after a moment, crouches down towards Alfred and Céline. “Why don’t I have my steward escort the prince and princess to the Holy Altar? The Somniel is a protected land, and they’ll be quite safe—Vander is excellent with children, after all.”
Whether or not he would agree with that assertion was another matter, but Lumera trusted him, nevertheless.
Ève’s response is quiet, delayed. “...I—”
“We can talk, you and I.” Lumera smiles at her, “Queen to queen.”
A part of Ève almost wants to protest. After her husband’s death, she was unwilling to be separated from any more of her family for longer than need be. There was also the matter of Alfred’s health—this had been one of the blessed days where his condition had improved, but there was always the threat of another setback. Could this steward—this Vander—be properly equipped to take care of her son if anything happened?
But Lumera’s smile is unwavering, and it brings her husband’s words to mind.
A fierce dragon goddess, hidden within the form of a gorgeous woman. Like this, she seemed a lady like any other—the warmth in her eyes was disarming, inviting… and difficult to reject.
“...Of course, Queen Lumera. But please, I—I don’t wish to be away from them for long.”
“Of course. As they visit with my child, let us have a walk through the gardens. The windflowers are lovely this time of year.”
“My goodness, truly?”
“Yes. It was quite the spectacle. Imagine, Firene’s future king, caught in the middle of the ballroom with his pants down—literally!” Ève laughs over her tea, “The poor man got wine spilled on them and stripped right down to his braies! Even did a jaunty little dance for good measure. Oh, the ministers were quite flushed.”
Lumera finds herself laughing along with the story, not at all surprised that the boy—and then man—she once knew would do something so brazen. He had always been a free soul, moving to the beat of his own drum. It was the sort of whimsy humans had the freedom to express, one that she could never quite envision for herself.
She sets down her teacup as the joined laughter of the women begins to die down, and Lumera takes a breath, unable to wipe the smile from her face. “You know, Queen Ève, I believe this is the first I’ve heard you laugh this much. It’s a beautiful sound—like the ringing of bells.” Her expression softens, “...It’s a joy to see you smiling again.”
Ève is unable to respond straight away, thrown once more by her goddess’ earnest praise. Though her first word catches in her throat, she is able to quickly redirect. Years upon years of etiquette training had its boons.
“Thank you. There is much to be joyful about these days. Alfred has just reached his tenth birthday, and his condition has much improved. Céline has also begun to take magic lessons. I feel she’ll be a promising mage and priestess, though she’s taken a surprising interest in swordplay, as well.”
A gentle breeze sweeps through the Lythos Castle gardens, bringing the faint scent of white rose as Ève raises her teacup to her lips. The Lythian blend was far more simpler than anything found in Firene, with their infusions of grape, flower petals, and orange peels… but it was classic and quaint.
Familiar, in the way that home was.
“I also have you to thank, Queen Lumera. Our teatimes these past few years have become a bright spot of joy for me, and I’ve found your advice invaluable in acclimating to my new role as Queen. Since I was not born royal, I worried if I could be the leader Firene needed.”
Her smile falters, “...The plague has stolen much from our people, but things finally seem to be settling. I even have plans to further ensure our country’s safety in its time of vulnerability. I only hope the other nations will be willing to come to the negotiating table.”
Lumera nods, “That’s wonderful. I can, of course, act as a mediator when the time comes. Peace and prosperity is all that I wish for.”
And yet, the war with Brodia and Elusia continues to rage on.
And yet, Lumera has not risen a finger to stop it. Surely Ève has wondered about this. Despite her many attempts to invite Elusia’s royal family to Lythos—in the hopes of showing them they are still accepted, of speaking with them—none have been accepted. It seems Elusia has well and truly cast off its alliance with her, which was certainly a point of concern…
There was also the matter of her energy, and how much of it was dedicated to her child’s well-being…
“...Were that I could do more.”
Ève stares at her, as if processing that quiet admittance, and gently places a hand over Lumera’s.
“There is much you’ve done for the world, my queen. I can’t even begin to imagine the weight you bear, and all on your own…”
Lumera shakes her head. “I admit, it has not always been easy, but the role of a leader is not meant to be. And… I still have my child. The dream, that they will return to me one day. My loyal steward… and you. Our teatimes, our chats—they have become a source of joy for me, as well. It brings a happiness I haven’t felt in a very long time.”
There’s a brush of skin—palms touching as Lumera turns her hand over underneath Ève’s, giving it a light squeeze. Again, the Queen of Dragons smiles so warmly, so sincerely , that Firene’s monarch finds herself stricken into silence.
She was warm, in the way that home was.
It has been about a decade now, perhaps longer—to Lumera’s countless years, it feels like only a small drop in time. But she sees the passage of time through the growing wrinkles in Vander’s brow, in how the new stewards rapidly grow into young adults.
Princess Céline has blossomed into a beautiful, dignified young woman. And Prince Alfred is now a vibrant young man in his adulthood, almost the spitting image of his father. Strong and vivacious and bright, always eager to visit her child. When Alear one day awakens, Lumera would like it if they could lean on him as a friend.
Much like…
“My dear Ève, it’s always a joy to have you visit.”
Alfred and Céline are already off to the Somniel to visit with Alear, Ève having only just returned from giving her own regards. The hug Lumera greets the other queen with is familiar—overly so, perhaps—but there is a swell in her heart at the sight of the other that drives her affection. It is different from Morion, or Seforia…
She pulls back, greeted by the smile on Queen Firene’s face, and feels her own warm ever-so-slightly.
“Come, we must catch up over tea! It feels as if it was only just yesterday since you last visited, but it’s been… about a year or two, yes?”
Ève nods. “Yes. Now that Alfred has come of age, I trust him to represent Firene well, and protect his sister during these visits. The boy has grown into an excellent diplomat—just as kind and sharp as his own father. As for me… I can’t take vacation too often. We’ve finally managed to get Brodia’s cooperation with the non-aggression treaty, but as their war with Elusia worsens, I’ve a need to keep a watch on things. In case…”
She trails off. Brodia had agreed to the treaty, but not without some doing. King Morion was known far and wide for his ambitious nature, and Ève had no doubt in her mind that if Brodia’s councilmen could come up with a reason, they would not hesitate to claim Firene’s bounty for their own.
“Well, anyway. On a lighter note—I’ve brought a gift. A special blend from Firene, infused with dried peaches. I know you’re fond of them.”
Lumera lights up. “I am! And for you… golden chrysanthemums.”
Ève pauses, then stumbles over her words. “W-what?”
“It was what you were known as in the court, yes? Well… I can’t say I disagree with the sentiment.” Subtly, she inches closer. “...They’re beautiful.”
“...My queen, I—”
Lumera hums, trying not to let her smile falter. My queen—always, she must use that title. Always must she see her as something of a god. She doesn’t bring up how Ève told her the flowers were often a gift from her departed husband. She doesn’t even dwell on the implications.
For they would reveal the motives in her own heart, ones she dare not speak.
“There’s no need. Please, take them.”
Gentle in their beauty, and gilded in their unattainability. Lumera stares into Ève’s eyes, noting the wrinkles that have begun to form with age. A reminder that the march of time continued.
Whatever her fancies, it was not meant to be.
She would simply indulge in the thought, and enjoy the little spot of happiness she did have. Vander, Clanne, and Framme… her child, who grew stronger everyday. This was tangible, and filled with far more hope than she’s had in a long time.
As for Ève… the company of her dear queen was something she would silently cherish, for as long as she had it.
Queen Lumera was dead.
The information hits her like an avalanche of stone, Ève unable to hide the shock on her face—first, the sleeping dragon youth awakens. Even retaking her castle and rescuing her from Elusia’s men, and now…
She frowns with deep sympathy. The one most grieving was the one who stood in front of her. Gently, she takes Alear’s hands.
“While I cannot take away your sorrow, perhaps I can help you bear it. To reunite with her, and then lose her so soon... I can only imagine how painful that was. For now, allow yourself to grieve, knowing that I grieve with you.”
And, oh, does she grieve.
Lumera had been a beacon to her all these years. A light that shone through the dark mire surrounding her after her husband’s death. A pillar to lean on, when it seemed the world was crashing down upon her shoulders, Ève ill-prepared for the responsibility of governance and solitary rule. Not ready to watch her son wither from the same illness that stole her love.
But the pain had begun to heal over time, and the situation improved. Alfred regained his good health and cheer, Céline began to smile again, and so did Ève—the chats, the laughter; teatimes, and the warmth of home.
Queen Lumera had been a dear companion. A blessing, a…
Golden chrysanthemum.
A fancy, a dream. One she entertained more often than she was allowed, but one that she knew she would never have.
And so, after sending her children and the Divine One to retrieve Firene’s second ring, after sending her children off to what seemed to be the beginnings of a long, bloody war…
She retires to her chambers, and weeps for the first time in a long time.
Her love was gone. And now her savior and second dream was lost to her.
She can only pray—to whom, now?—that her children would not meet the same fate.
For now, she would sit in her grief, and then plan preparations for a memorial to the Divine Dragon.
Windflowers and chrysanthemums would do nicely.