Chronicles of Straith #2- The Witch’s Dragon:Chapter 2
Chronicles of Straith #1- Fate’s Door ///Chapter 1/Chapter 3//Masterpost
Roman mussed their hair in the mirror. It was short, boy-short. They hadn’t gotten a choice in the matter after the coronation, the hairdresser whispering a brief apology before chopping away. It didn’t look right, and Roman itched to grow it out, but they knew that wasn’t an option.
A king, after all, had to look presentable. Long hair wasn’t presentable, no matter how much Roman happened to like it. Of course, nonbinary gender presentations weren’t presentable either, much to Roman’s chagrin. But right now, it didn’t particularly matter, because Roman was going to have lunch with the Sorcerer’s Apprentice.
Or better defined as Roman’s friend—their first friend—and their closest confidante since Patton and Logan were busy with other things.Namely, running a bookstore, democracy, and each other. Roman trusted Virgil more than anyone else, in the castle and beyond. She had been with them since before everything. The grand adventure. The quest lost to the ages that saved the kingdom and returned magic to the nation. Virgil had introduced them to the wild world of adventuring-the first outside of Roman’s own mind. And, truth be told, there were feelings simmering beneath the surface of their conversations that Roman wasn’t equipped to handle.
Lunchtime every week was usually the only time they got to talk about anything other than business. Along with Rafaela, Virgil was running the shiny new Sorcery Department of Straith, and her path frequently crossed with Roman’s, although usually just for minutes at a time. She always needed signatures, a word of input, or persuasion, but their lunches together were the only time Virgil wanted Roman’s company.
For old time’s sake—it reminded them both of the stolen hours spent planning—they met in the library. They weren’t supposed to eat there, but being the king had its perks. Roman had a (trusted) cook bring them something small, and got to be away from responsibilities with Virgil. It was a calm oasis amidst the chaos of Roman’s life. Sixteen-year-olds were not well equipped to run a country, but Roman was doing their best.
Descending the stairs to the library doors, Roman unhooked the small gold crown from their hair and stuck it in their pocket. No one recognized them without a crown, the young ruler was finding, and they used that to their advantage when hiding from anyone that would want the king. Which turned out to be a great many people.
Roman flung open the doors to the library, making the pages of the librarian’s book flutter. He barely gave Roman a glance as they passed, probably not caring. Either he was too caught up in his book, or the librarian was accustomed enough to Roman practically living here to raise an eyebrow.
Virgil waited at their usual table, the one next to the window where sunlight always lit whatever you were reading. She had started on the sandwiches already, and a smile broke out on her face when Roman walked in. Her dragon, Laurus, snoozed on the nearby windowsill, sending up puffs of smoke with every exhale.
Sliding into the wooden seat next to her, Roman reached for the other sandwich. “Starting already?”
“You can’t expect everyone to wait for you, your majesty,” Virgil said, taking another bite out of her sandwich. Roman laughed.
“Didn’t expect you to, just thought it was unusual. You must be busy.” They unwrapped the sandwich, trying to distract themself with something other than Virgil’s face.
“I could say the same about you, but I’m more focused on this sandwich right now. What’s new in the life of a king?” She wanted to catch up with Roman; it had been too long since they’d last talked, and a hundred things must have happened since then.
“Just a lot of things, and they keep piling up. Kind of makes you miss running for your life, but at least it’s predictable. Like, if I tell someone this, my chief advisor will become furious, the cabinet will act scandalized, and everyone who doesn’t live inside this ancient pile of rocks will cheer. My dad massively sucked, but at least he prepared me, you know.” Roman started eating their sandwich, trying to repress the spark of bitterness about their dad. It was a sore subject, but being around Virgil always managed to loosen their tongue.
“Never thought I’d hear you say something positive about Epos,” Virgil said, quirking an eyebrow, “but I can’t imagine how hard being king would be without someone helping. I’ve got Rafaela, but you’ve got…” She wasn’t sure how to phrase it correctly.
“A lot of people who don’t trust me and treat me like I’m five? Yeah, but I’ve got you, Pat, and Logan. It balances out.” Roman tried to shrug it off, but the set of their features suggested that their predicament was troubling.
“Considering I’m actually losing sleep over the responsibility of like, restoring the entire reputation of sorcery, I have no idea how you’re alive,” Virgil said, reaching for one of the cups of water on the table. If there was one thing she could count on, it was self-doubt.
“Your guess is as good as mine. I’m not sure how I’m surviving it all, quite frankly,” Roman said, shoulders slumping inwards. “I mean, I thought that after what, four months of this? I’d be used to the constant demands, the pressure, the crown. But every time I have to give a speech it feels like walking into the room with Epos to lie my way into the throne.”
Virgil sighed. “Remember when we thought I was going to break Rafaela out of prison with just my own powers? Those were simpler times.” She finished off her sandwich, picking a stray piece of lettuce off the paper to eat. “Still can’t believe you didn’t tell us until after we thought the whole world was going to end.”
“For the thousandth time, I’m sorry. But hey, the stress of being king is kind of karmic,” Roman reasoned, taking another bite of their sandwich. “This food is really good.”
“I know, it is. You should seriously give him a raise,” Virgil said, sadly looking at where her now-eaten sandwich once was.
“As a matter of fact, my financial advisor will give me a twenty-minute lecture on budgeting if I give anyone else a raise. I am limited to two raises a month, which I already spent on the calligrapher and the candle-lighter. So I’ll keep it in mind for next month,” Roman said, taking a long gulp of water. “Do you know how Logan and Patton’s plan is coming along?”
“They’re working on it, that’s for sure, but I really don’t know,” Virgil said, shrugging. “I haven’t seen them as much as I’d like to. Things with Rafaela have been…busy.”
“I feel you on that, honestly,” Roman said, “Obviously, I’m the king and getting the best of everything, which I’m reminded of every time I visit—” They were cut off by something loud. A rumble, warning.
Something shook the ground underneath them. Laurus jumped down from the sill. A rush of panic flooded over Roman, and they ran to the window.
Next to them, Virgil whispered, “Is that an explosion?” Her dragon cowered behind her, tail brushing her ankles.
A gray cloud hovered over a patch of the forest, with everything beneath it a muddy gray, like someone had coated the trees with concrete. The gray was stark against the snow-covered trees surrounding the cloud.Roman squinted at it. “What in the name of-”
Another rumble, and more liquid spewed from the same spot. The window frame shook under Virgil’s white-knuckled hands. Laurus’s tail clenched around her leg. She looked at Roman. “That’s going to leave a mark.”
They could hear people yelling outside, mostly in astonishment at what just happened. Nothing more happened, the cloud rooted in place above the desaturated trees. “Do—what do we do about it?” Roman asked, heart pounding in their chest. This was not supposed to happen.
“Let me contact Rafaela,” Virgil said, rolling back her sleeve to shoot a jet of magic at her purple bracelet. It buzzed back at her, and her brow furrowed. “Not available, and—”She tapped the bracelet. “—won’t let me track her.”
“Great. This is great. Just perfect. Couldn’t have asked for anything better,” Roman said, knowing that their break from reality with Virgil would have to end. “I should probably go, and talk with people. Let me know if you find Rafaela.” They had a sinking feeling that the explosion and Rafaela’s disappearance wasn’t a coincidence.
“I will, don’t worry,” Virgil said. Roman left the room, looking back at the mess they’d made at lunch. While they hated leaving things with Virgil like this, Roman only had so long before everyone started looking for them. They’d much rather that the entire castle staff didn’t find the king’s hiding place.
Roman slipped the small crown back into their hair and ran to the office, where there would no doubt already be people waiting for them. A teenager was definitely not the best choice for king, because Roman had no idea what to do about whatever was in the forest.
Chronicles of Straith #2- The Witch’s Dragon:Prologue
Chronicles of Straith #1- Fate’s Door ///Chapter 1//Masterpost
SO! Disclaimer:I originally wrote this last year for the 2019 Sanders Sides big bang, and I said I was going to post it on Tumblr chapter by chapter *john mulaney voice* and then I didn’t. Life got in the way, as I’m a high school student who also assistant stage managed a play and recovered from an injury and also has a Ridiculous course load so...yeah. ironically i’m going to be posting this while I’m writing the sequel to it! i hope you enjoy reading it!
The princess stormed out of the castle, not caring who followed. She was a princess by chance, and a prisoner by the choice of others. Namely, her father, the king. How had everything gone so wrong?
She had told him that she was touring. That his pretty little daughter would go travel the continent for the summer, and be back in time for marriage in the fall. She had lied to him, but it was an honest lie, for a very good cause.
Instead of travelling, Princess Rafaela had stayed within the bounds of her own country, helping people with the sorcery she’d worked so hard to cultivate.
Going under the pseudonym of “Dragon Witch”, she placed ads in the paper, then began working, never accepting any sort of payment.
But, of course, once the King’s officials got word of this Dragon Witch, they had to put a stop to her business. After all, how would their subjects remain loyal to the king if they believed that magic could solve their problems?
When the soldiers marched by, Rafaela had the misfortune of being there, disguised in her cloak and hat.
When they learned she was the princess, all hell broke loose. Whatever fragile social standing Rafaela had before her ‘tour’ vanished into thin air.
The king offered her a deal. Two choices: reverse it all or never see the light of day again. It wasn’t fair, but then again, the king was never fair. Yet he’d given her a choice. Some choice that turned out to be, self-sacrifice and her gone forever, staying in the deep depths of the castle until her bones rotted into dirt.She was going to choose banishment, exile. It hadn’t taken more than a second to decide, and Rafaela refused to compromise on her principles. Some would describe that as her best trait, her parents would describe it as her worst. There was a backup plan, kicking up dust somewhere in the back of her mind, but she refused to ponder on it, rage overpowering everything.
Rafaela marched down the dirt path, not caring that her fine clothes were being ruined. They were but a pretty wrapper for her poisoned situation. She passed the familiar sights—the trees, the lake, the flowers—until arriving at the place that was more home than the castle had ever been.
A small cave, covered in vines and moss so that it was nearly invisible to the casual observer. She pushed back a curtain of woven plants and inhaled the familiar scent of dirt and flowers. There was her little cot, against the far wall, a stump next to it with a still-flickering orb of light resting atop it, drifting up and down. A wooden table, upon which sat her sorceric tools, wands and plants and devices galore, with a paper from a week ago. The Dragon Witch advertisement was proudly facing up.
If all went as planned, Rafaela would never see this place again in her natural lifetime. Her throat choked up as she thought about the little kitchen falling into disuse, the light orb fading into the darkness, and the vines outside slowly overgrowing the cave until even she wouldn’t find it.
She would be leaving everything behind. Rage built within her, and she hadn’t even gone further than the entrance. What was the point of going further? To cry, to mourn her own death. The emotions swelling within Rafaela became uncountable, wrapped up in each other like the cobwebs soon to build in the cave walls.
There had to be a spell for this. The words her tutors had repeated over and over came to mind: magic is about controlling emotions. Yet she couldn’t think of something that would get rid of this inferno within. Rafaela tangled her fingers in her brown locks and pulled, trying to distract herself from the pain within with the sharp sting against her scalp.
A new spell, then. She would have to see what happened, and hopefully wouldn’t be around to see if things went wrong. The princess stepped back from the cave, and raised her hands to point them at the entrance. The newspaper ad was still visible. Oh, how wrong this had gone.
Her fury amplified, emotions screaming at full volume into her ears. Rafaela took a second to focus, align herself with her power, then focused everything she had out. It left in gasps and chunks, pieces of her hurt dispelling themselves into the cave. Home, and everything that had destroyed home.
Finally, she felt empty, like it was gone, over. She lowered her shaking hands, feeling a sense of calm sweep across her mind and body. Hot tears fell down her cheeks, and Rafaela wiped them away with a satin sleeve. Not sure what she’d done, and with a head too foggy to think about it, she cast a concealment spell on the cave.
“If a stranger were to glimpse this vined encampment
Yield to none but the witch who made thereupon enchantment.”
She walked back to the castle, and informed her stepfather of her chosen fate. He sent her to have her hair bleached, to be fitted in the poorst of cloths. No one could know that the witch they were sentencing to death was also the princess.
They could not know of the words she uttered within the throne chamber. Or the child crying for her mother on the outskirts of town, her father pinching the bridge of his nose as he heard the celebrations. Sorcery would have to leave Straith, in the name of tyranny.
