The Gift

I’ve had the ideas of this fumbling around in my drafts for a long time now and I finally finished it. I’m glad I waited thought because I had time to think long and hard about the way in which Rowena acquired Dray and what that might look like. This is from Vys’ POV, however I might write Dray’s POV at some point too.

Tw for “it” as pronouns, dehumanization, slavery, blood, muzzles, drugged whumpee (only briefly mentioned).

“That one.”

Vysthrain’s gaze follows to where Rowena’s finger is pointing. “That one? You can’t be serious, your Majesty. That one is- looks unremarkable. If- if I may be so bold.” He catches himself at the last moment. It never bodes well to contradict the Empress. He glances at her, gauging her reaction to his blunder. However- his opinion stands. The bloodied… boy in the arena below looks one more hit away from his demise. 

Rowena laughs, a melodic sound with an edge that sends a shiver curling down Vys’ spine. She doesn’t seem bothered at his difference of opinion. “Ostra Ailmer doesn’t know what he has.”

“But you do.” It’s a statement, not a question. He can see the cogs in her head turning, that slight twitch of her lips when she’s thinking. More like scheming, his brain provides unhelpfully. 

“That I do.” She keeps her eyes trained on the man in the arena as he runs his opponent through with the short spear he wields in his hand. It’s clearly not his weapon of choice, but he’s making it work. “You see, that is a half dragon.”

Vys snorts and plucks a grape from the bunch on the table next to them. Her majesty seems to be in a light mood, a mood in which he is allowed to converse freely. Within reason. “A half dragon. I think you have had one too many glasses, your Majesty. Everyone knows there’s no such thing as male halfbreed dragons.” He pops the firm grape into his mouth and rolls it around on his tongue. “Besides, if there was, surely they would be more… impressing.” He keeps his eyes on her and away from the blood splattered sand below. 

“And that’s where you’re wrong.” Rowena sits back and smiles to herself. “You see, it’s not that there’s no such thing, it’s that they’re incredibly rare, almost unheard of and Ostra Ailmer doesn’t know just how valuable that possession is.” Her eyes narrow as she turns her attention to watching again, fingers steepled in the way she does when she’s thinking. Vys recognizes the look as that dark shimmering greed of hers. He’s seen it a few times- and knows if it’s something she truly desires, nothing will stop her until it’s in her possession. 

“And you’re going to get it, how exactly? Whether he knows what he has or not, Ailmer won’t give up a winning fighter easily.” Because- despite all odds, they were currently naming the object of Rowena’s attention the winner.

She leans over and pats his cheek like he’s a child asking a silly question. “Vys dear, when have I ever not found a way to get what I want?” It’s a rhetorical question. One that doesn’t even warrant an answer. He knows very well she has her ways. Even as Empress she can not simply demand what she wants, but there are ways.

“Sounds like you are already coming up with a wonderful plan, your Majesty.” He leans into her touch, as he knows she likes and gives her an easy smile. The heat of the day is not so unbearable to him in this moment. “Is there anything I may do to assist you in it?” If she becomes infatuated with some new object, will he be forgotten? He will never let that happen.

“Perhaps”, she says, idly watching the guards half guide, half drag the winner out of the arena. “However there might be no need for any form of coercion.” She gives him another smile. He knows all her smiles by now. This one is self satisfaction, security in her own plans, and just a hint of mirth. “My birthday will be arriving soon. And with it- gifts.”