36Hi to all of you! Sorry for the long wait but I've been sick. This is the last chapter, the one you've probably waited for some time, enjoy! And see you later for the last author notes. A warning: this is un-betaed and bound to remain so!
XXII. THE HEART OF THE DRAGON
The next day, Deja has been unable to suppress her happiness, completely ill-timed in light of the massacre committed only the day before. She had come back to the harem in the very early morning, her steps so light she seemed to float in the air. The many red marks left by her husband's mouth were evident and she showed them with her head hold high, refusing to be embarrassed by the curious looks of her guards. Pearl, who was having her breakfast, heard her coming in and went quickly to the queen's quarters, asking Larissa to leave them alone for the moment. Deja was sitting at the vanity table, her hair were tangled, her wrinkled dress the same she had been wearing the previous evening and she had a joyful smile on her lips.
Pearl had lifted an eyebrow scrutinising her throat.
- Oscia told me you took her place yesterday evening. Can I infer everything went well?
Pearl had been alarmed when the other concubine had knocked at her door the previous night, informing her of the change. Zaron had been in a terrible mood and not in the right state of mind to being in the company of his wife: he had been short of patience, and quick to rage. The concubine had been worried their meeting would end up in another row and so she had waited awake the queen's return but later that night she had given up, going back to her rooms feeling worried and confused. Now instead Deja seemed on cloud none, happy and content and she bore on her skin the obvious sings that Zaron had not used his mouth to shout at her.
- It went better than well.
The girl confessed, blushing. Pearl bit her lip, unsure if ask or not but in the end her curiosity won over her discretion.
- So… Did you and Zaron…Finally…?
Deja shook her head in denial but her eyes shone.
- No but… it had been wonderful… He touched and kissed me and it was magnificent, a lot better than I had believed. If it is like that when we have our clothes on, I can not imagine how it will be without.
Pearl sighed and shook her head, waving between disappointment and relief.
- I'm happy for you. You'll see, you won't have to wait a lot more.
The attempt to the emperor's life had left wounds deeper than anybody suspected. The broken arm and the burn were public knowledge but the damage done to the shoulder musculature was worse and few knew about how serious it was, so much in fact that had been it the right shoulder it would have left Zaron incapable to handle a sword again with the former ability. Zaron thanked the gods that the injured shoulder had been the left one. However, for the first time, he felt the burden of his years. His personal healer commented that, had it happened twenty yeast previously, the damage would have fixed itself with time, now instead he was going to feel the consequences for the rest of his days. The rebellion worn him out physically and mentally and his hair had acquired the first silver strands, making him cut them short enough to cover their presence. It hadn't been a vanity-driven decision, at least not only: Zaron was honest with himself and he did realize that vanity had weighed a lot in his fashion choice. The last conspiracy against him this time nearly succeeded and the now obvious signs left by age that he could see in the mirror had forced him to consider his own mortality and the real and objective necessity to give the empire he built a legitimate heir. This led to Deja and to their marriage.
Secretly Zaron had had, from the beginning, meant to follow the Issian law in spirit if not to the letter and await his wife fifteen birthday. He never took in account the possibility that Deja herself would come forward and offer herself to him first. Zaron had been very proud of himself for resisting her for so long even if she had been a constant source of temptation. Moreover the depth of his feeling for her had surprised him: he didn't believe he had ever desired so much a woman before, not even Pearl. Therefore the fact he manage to resist to his desire for her had not only filled him with pride but become a form of sacrifice he had offered to Deja, a sign of his respect for her Issian traditions and of his respect of her. He never realized how his resistance to his wife's shy attempts at seduction had hurt her until she had, in no uncertain terms, demanded his attentions. Zaron indulged her and he had, this way, got a sample of what his stubbornness had denied him until then. However he had been unable to go further: he couldn't untangle, in his mind, the woman in his arms from the memory of the little girl terrified of sharing a bed with him. Sometimes, in his worst nightmares he thought about it: he remembered that night and how things could have been different, had Deja been older and him a less a honourable man. These revolting thoughts led him to believe himself no better than his father and prevented him from going too far with Deja. It took him a lot of time to remove that line of thinking and accept the truth: that Deja wasn't a little girl any longer and that his desire wasn't a sick one. She not only welcomed and wanted him and his desire for her but she even loved him. Zaron had been sceptical at first but now he didn't reject her feelings as an impossibility. He too felt something compelling for her, at least physically and he was seriously considering the idea of finally claiming her as his wife for real. However he had waited for so long that he now wanted it to be very special to the both of them. For now he wasn't denying himself anymore the pleasure of her company nor he was trying anymore to disguise his body reaction to her proximity in his bed. Nevertheless, having decided how to proceed, he had adamantly chose to adhere to the timetable he had set in his mind. Deja had asked to spent more nights with him making their monthly appointment a weekly one but Zaron had been unsure of his ability to keep to his distance if that happened and had conceded only two nights every month.
He accepted to share the bed with her mostly because his darling wife had the ability to warn off the bad dreams. Without her by his side, even wrapped in the embrace of one of his concubines, he would weak up drenched in sweat, crying out in distress and dreaming about falling from the sky. Poor Mira earned a black eye when Zaron's flailing arm elbowed her in the face. The idea alone of boarding an aerostat caused him to break in cold sweat and his hands to shake in fright. He didn't believe he was going to be able to fly ever again.
During one of his private dinners with Deja he listened with dread as his wife spoke about visiting Issa.
- Father asked me if we are going to visit, to celebrate my birthday even if it has passed. I told him we would not, that this year we will miss it and that he should came here at Halanda for once. I hope I did right.
Zaron sighed in relief, rotating his left wrist where he wore a heavy iron armband. He had lost muscle tone and wanted to recover it as soon as possible but without staining his injured shoulder too much for it still ached terribly if he moved incorrectly. His skin had healed but his muscles had been cut and damaged and it was going to take him months if not years to regain the freedom of movement he had lost. This limited his physical activities: his sword trainings now consisted in slow repeated forms carried out in front of dummies. The duels had been cancelled for the time being.
- You did well, my darling.
He told nobody, not even her, that now he was scared of heights.
- I hope your father will accept your invitation. It's strange but I have to confess I missed his hostile and sarcastic presence…
Deja had huffed in displeasure but then she had laughed when she understood that Zaron had been just joking. Full of anticipation she followed him to the bedroom but then he pointed out to her the nightgown laid out on the covers and the bathing room. Filled by a burning disappointment she had joined him under the sheets but Zaron smiled and drew her close, clasping her to his chest and begun to kiss her. He made her lie on her back and then he laid out on his left side so to touch her with his right hand. She couldn't know it but every time the desire become too much all he had to do was move a little and put his weight on his wounded shoulder and the pain it caused would give him back clarity.
Deja's disappointed expression when she realized he wasn't going to take her made him understand that a simple kiss wasn't going to be enough anymore, not after what happened. At the same time however he felt the right moment was yet to come. Therefore he touched her through her thin nightgown, kissing all the skin it left bare: her shoulders and her chest till the breastbone, clutching with consuming desire her small but perfect breasts, feeling through the cloth how soft it was. He had to bit his tongue because the longing to lower the shoulder strap and suck at it had been nearly overwhelming. He instead opted to kiss her, caressing her tongue in the same way he yearned to do somewhere else. She had hooked his hips with her leg and tried to force him turn and lay over her, between her legs and Zaron had had to level himself on the mattress to keep his balance.
- Stop,
He ordered her against her lips.
- Leave it to me.
He had no intention to shame himself like a green boy as he did the last time: his adolescence days were over and gone and he wasn't an impatient youth anymore, not like the girl moaning under his hand who pulling at him. His right hand caressed her covered thigh, outside and then inside, ascending the leg that opened up for his exploration. His wife breath halted. Worried, Zaron stilled and stopped kissing her.
- Is it alright, Deja? Do you want me to stop?
- Do not dare to stop!
She exclaimed breathlessly. He smiled and resumed his kiss, placing with purposefulness his hand on the juncture between her legs, perceiving her warmth event through the fabric. He brushed her lightly at the beginning, then with growing firmness gradually gaining confidence with the amount of strength to apply for he had never before tried to do something like that while dressed and letting his experience guide him more than touch to know where to caress her. Feeling satisfaction and a sweet moving tenderness, he observed her as begun to trash and arch her back, finally letting out a high pitched wail and, swept over by the passion, he bit her breast and sucked hard at her nipple through the nightgown. She cried out and clung to him before falling back breathlessly and bonelessly on the bed.
Zaron spread out on his back, ignoring the light soreness of his left shoulder, a minor annoyance if compared to the discomfort caused by another part of him that had become stiff and full of anticipations that were going to be unfulfilled. He drew Deja on his chest and she cuddled alongside him happily and rubbed her face against his neck, kissing it lightly and shyly and then biting it hesitantly. He kissed her brow and her nose and lastly her red lips.
- Happy dearest?
She sighed, closing her eyes.
- Very, my love.
She put her head on his chest and soon afterwards she fell asleep.
Deja's happiness and joyful demeanour infected the court, or at least the female half of it. After the horrible show of the conspirators' public executions, a dark mood had hovered on the capitol and everybody was jumpy and worried. Sali had been missing for more than a week from the Royal Palace, wanting to tend to her husband's physical and mental wounds. The one who had been ripped apart in the palace courtyard could have been her Brafit and she was still shaken by the experience. Famira too had been missing, she had welcomed Bors back sobbing and shedding tears of relief, she had hugged him close and refused to leave his side for days, thanking the goddess for the grace received, for having back home the husband she had believed lost forever; she returned to the Royal Palace only once Bors had been able to walk again with a cane. Famira wanted to share her joy with her friend and found a very happy Deja who kept her hair braided up to show proudly to the word the purple bite marks left by the emperor on her throat. She caressed them sometimes with a dreaming expression on her face and Famira dragged her some steps ahead of their group during the queen's morning walk in the gardens, to speak with her in relative privacy whispering in her ear.
- What is happening Deja? You look… different. Are you pregnant again?
Her friend laughed, blushing and shaking her head.
- No,
She denied but without regret.
- However interactions with my husband have improved, a lot.
Famira shot her a look, frowning in confusion. What did her friend mean with improved? She had not been aware that they were having difficulties. Then she grimaced in self-reproach: she had been so happy for her own marriage and her baby girl that she would not even realized if her younger friend had had some problems.
- Are you happy?
She asked, feeling the worst friend ever.
- Yes, I am. How could not be? My husband is alive when I believed him dead and he… liked my welcome home.
While she said that she brushed absent-minded her own throat and Famira had an epiphany, feeling foolish for not having realized it sooner.
- You are in love with him.
She whispered, surprised.
- Yes, I am.
The queen answered quietly, looking up to Famira with challenging eyes. Had they been alone Famira would have hugged her with a high-pitched scream of joy, but knowing that they were watched closely she had to settle for whispering fiercely, infusing her tone with the happiness she was feeling.
- I am so very happy for you, Deja! And… what about him? Does he love you too?
The queen diverted her gaze, becoming cold.
- He makes me happy. Does it matter if he loves me or not? Maybe he does, in his own way…
Famira's heart had a pang and she felt powerless.
- He makes me happy.
Deja repeated.
- Happy…
The queen's father finally visited for the first time the capitol city of the Rakian empire. Aborn had accepted reluctantly the invitation but, having been denied any other possibility to see his daughter, he boarded one of the Rakian aerostat and went to Halanda. It was his first time in the city and he observed critically how dirty and chaotic the New City was. He couldn't have known how Zaron's innovations had already improved the life conditions of its citizens: now they had underground sewers and every district had newly installed fountains that spurted clean water coming directly from the Old City cisterns at specific times so that the people living in the poorer districts could have safe water to drink and to cook with, to prevent the outbreak of plagues. In addition, slowly and starting from the richer districts, the roads were in the process of been paved, as it was done in Issa.
His daughter hadn't been there to welcome him at his arrival, as he had hoped. To see her he had to go to the Royal Palace where she meet him amidst the joyful cheer of their compatriots.
Aborn had thought they would meet privately but when she offered him a seat in her study, two Rakian guards took position beside the closed doors on the inside of the room.
- Are they really necessary?
He asked, sitting in front of his daughter's desk.
- Yes, father, they are. After what happened last year my husband insists I always have my faliq guards with me when I am outside the female wing of the palace, especially when I am having a private meeting.
Her father grimaced in distaste remembering how much that incident had unsettled his daughter.
- But I am your father, my dear child. Certainly, at least with me…
She shook her head firmly.
- I am not making exceptions, for nobody. I will be alone with my husband only.
He lifted an eyebrow sceptically.
- With your husband and with your guards. Are you not alone with them?
Deja smiled to him and instead of sitting at the other side of the desk she sat on the chair at his side, close to him.
- They are faliqs father. Faliqs are attracted only to men. Women do not interest them.
The older man blinked, surprised, and he resisted barely to the temptation of turning and stare at them. He always considered men with such preferences as effeminate but there was nothing soft in the two soldiers guarding his daughter: they were straight-faced, their gazes were stony and fierce, and judging from their muscular arms they must be strong enough to strangle a bull bare-handed*. Then Aborn looked at his daughter's neck where the Zaron's bite-marks were slowly fading.
- Deja…
He whispered brokenly. She blushed violently but then, instead of lowering her eyes she lifted her chin looking stubborn.
- Are you going to reproach me for something, father? He is my husband, I am his wife and I…
She hesitated and then continued.
- I am in love with him.
She concluded quietly but firmly. Aborn watched her speechless, then he swallowed dryly, trying to find his lost voice.
- You love him, my child? Are you sure?
She smiled shyly.
- Yes, I do. Please, say you are happy for me.
Aborn pushed back the resentment he felt for the emperor.
- I am happy for you, my love. If you are happy then I am happy too: how could I not?
She leant toward him from her seat to hug him and Aborn felt acutely the lack of intimacy they always enjoyed while in Issa. With stinging eyes he hugged hard his little girl for the last time and then he let go of the smiling woman who took her place. They spoke some more, about the war, about the terrible events happened at Rakon in the previous months and then they ended their meeting on a lighter note, chatting about the fact that the Issian Science Academy decided to open a new branch in Halanda, after the one in Mabdisa. When Aborn took his leave to go back to the foreigner guest palace that had been prepared for him and his entourage, it was already evening and they had spent the whole afternoon in conversation. The queen's father slept poorly that night, in a bed not his own, in an alien place where every noise and smell coming from the open window were different from what he was used to. He spent the hours staring at the ceiling without really seeing it and thinking about Deja, about how much she had changed in the years. The scared but brave little girl he watched go away that night so many years ago had transformed into a self-assured young woman and he had been unable to see the change, he had been unable to assist her in it. Deja had moulded herself, or has been moulded, around Zaron. It wasn't a bad thing, Aborn tried to convince himself: the fact that his daughter was so independent and healthy, physically and mentally, was a credit to the emperor's good temperament. The Issian man knew, had feared in the deepest of his heart, that by marrying so young, Deja's personality had been in danger of being overpowered by Zaron's already strong and fully developed one. The emperor instead had been able to nourish his daughter's growth without smothering her and the evolution had been phenomenal and magnificent. Deja grew into the woman, into the queen, Aborn always knew she was destined to be and he was proud of her, proud and sad because he had not be the one to help her in her first steps, in growing into her own person. It had been Zaron. Now his sweet child said she was in love with her husband, but was it true? Was it a true, pure feeling, or it was something inevitable, caused by closeness, by the routine and the miserable truth that he was the only man she could want, the only one she can have? And Zaron? He was the greatest unknown. From the marks left behind by his kisses and that Deja displayed shamelessly it was obvious he was reaping the benefits of Deja's love for him but was he able to love his wife as much as she loved him?
Tormented by those questions, Aborn fell asleep only a little before dawn.
The following afternoon he met privately with the emperor himself. The meeting had been wanted by Zaron who asked to speak alone with Aborn.
His son-in-law waited for him in his private study, a large room richly decorated with marbles and gold finishes but that had the look of an area barely used. Only some elements gave the room the feeling of the emperor's personal touch: the dented weapons and the ripped and soiled flags decorating the walls that had used to belong to the kingdoms conquered by Zaron and to their kings. Behind Zaron's desk, in a position of honour, hung the Issian flag, the same one that Aborn had to lower in the dirt in front of the khan's armies the day he surrendered.
Zaron was standing propped against the desk with his arms crossed. Aborn bowed and chose not to sit but to stand like the younger Rakian man.
- I'm happy you accepted Deja's invitation, Aborn.
Zaron said. He looked tired and aged, Aborn thought with raising dread. Now that they were face to face, he could see that the winkles around Zaron's eyes were deeper than the ones he had noticed with some perverse satisfaction the previous year. Now, in light of his daughter's revelation, those signs of the other man aging were a grim omen: Aborn had always been sorrowful at the idea of never seen his grandchildren growing up if Deja was to have children one day, because of the great gap in age between himself and his only daughter. And now he was forced to contemplate with sadness the signs that time, merciless, has left on the man she chose to love. He lowered his gaze, afraid that Zaron would be able to read the pity he felt and would be offended by it.
- I'm happy too, my liege.
Zaron passed a hand over his eyes, he seemed short of words, like it was difficult for him to find the right words to give voice to his thoughts and Aborn remembered the night of Deja's crowning so many years previously, when he had been the one nervous and Zaron had been arrogant and cold.
- I own you an apology, Aborn.
The emperor whispered hoarsely and it left Aborn feeling bewildered.
- I'm not going to say it again, ever.
The younger man said between gritted teeth.
- But I am. I'm sorry I stole from you Deja when she was so young, I'm sorry for having blackmailed her into marrying me.
- Whatever makes you say something like that?
Aborn asked incredulously. Zaron closed his hands into fists.
- Recent events. I….
He faltered and then he stared at the iron band around his left wrist.
- I have three daughters. The eldest, Kirsis, will be twelve fourteen in a couple of months. The head of the conspiracy against me, he had wanted to do to her what I've done to Deja, only that there was going to be no waiting, no respect, only violence.
The emperor's words were sober and he spoke slowly as if it was difficult for him to utter them. Aborn felt his blood become cold and horror gripped him.
- I felt an endless hate, a burning rage toward that worm, that dog. The things he said under torture, against Deja, the disgraceful and horrible things he had wanted to subject them to, Deja and my daughters, only because they were mine… I would have him executed no matter what but for the horrors he had wanted to commit I had him killed in the most shameful and painful way I knew. And I promised myself I would ask your forgiveness Aborn, for having behaved in a similar way with you and your daughter.
Aborn stared fixedly at the dusty blue flag that symbolized his greatest failure. He wasn't going to accept Zaron's apology because he wasn't used to lie. He would never forgive Zaron for what he did, but he had learned to accept it. In the last years, he resigned himself to what happened and to live apart from the one person he loved the most.
- Deja loves you.
He said instead, his voice was toneless and his expression empty.
- My daughter is in love with you,
Aborn forgone any honorific for his speech, opting for menacing, speaking to the emperor as a father-in-law and not as a subject.
- You can keep your apologies. What I expect from you is that you take the utmost care of my most precious treasure, that you keep safe the heart she gave you.
Finally he looked at Zaron who seemed shaken by his words.
- Do you love her?
He asked solemnly. Zaron didn't answered and silence stretched between them.
- Treat her as if you care for her more than you care for your own life and we will be even.
Aborn said angrily and then he gave his back to the emperor and left the room without taking his leave nor bowing.
- I already care for her more than I do for myself.
Zaron whispered once alone.
- Does it mean I love her?
Aborn's visit protracted for two weeks and then he went back to Issa. Deja's days were happy and full of love and her nights with her husband were like shining diamonds she collected jealously, often thinking about them and about him as she laid alone in her bed inside the harem, burning with want and jealousy knowing he was in another woman's embrace from which he took what he still hadn't wanted form her. The girl had thought she would easily accept the slow pace established by her husband but it wasn't so. Once she got used to his touch and the pleasure it gave her, she had started to crave more. In the end she confided with Tallia who had become her confident when it came to the doubts and uncertainties she got when she was with Zaron. Tallia's candour was embarrassing and her words sometimes were gross but it was the reason Deja preferred her to Pearl and her veiled allusions.
- He never touches me under my cloths!
She lamented with the concubine.
- He kisses me and touches me only through the fabric. Are you sure that it is not because he does not like me?
Tallia laughed out aloud.
- Don't fret my dear: if you feel it hard, then it means he want you, you can bet on it!
Deja blushed.
- A man can lie with his mouth but his anatomy cannot lie to you!
- Then why?
Deja lamented again, sitting on the woman's bed.
- Perhaps he just needs a little push in the right direction…
Tallia suggested with a wink.
- You can stop wearing the blouse inside the harem, for example. I'm sure that it would catch his attention!
Deja covered her red face with a moan.
- I thought about it too but… I can not! It is too embarrassing!
Tallia sat beside her.
- Try staying without when you're inside your rooms, to acquaint yourself with the feeling of being bared and then, when you feel ready, go for it! Maybe one day when it's only us and Zaron doesn't come to dinner.
Deja decided to follow the concubine's advice nearly causing Larissa to faint. To be naked from the waist up was awkward and embarrassing: she was conscious in every moment to be exposed but there were only women in the harem and, apart Larissa, none of her Rakian maids showed any signs of finding it weird. After some weeks she felt prepared enough to come out of her rooms to assist to Mira's play with only the drape to cover half of her chest.
The concubine played out of tune at her entrance and the others turned to stare at her open-mouthed for the surprise, only Tallia smirked in satisfaction.
- There is something wrong in the way I dressed?
She asked lightly and ironically while the blush spread from her face to her neck and across her chest.
- Violet looks good on you.
Tallia answered sniggering. Mira resumed her play and Pearl hid a smile behind the curtain of her dark hair.
Deja needed two more weeks and another frustrating night with her husband to find the courage to show herself to him without the blouse on.
She had already worn her pink Issian dress when a sort of frenzy took hold of her.
- I changed my mind, Larissa.
She told her maid while she was brushing her hair.
- Take out my violet Rakian dress. Someone told me that violet looks good on me.
Her maid nearly fainted when she refused the blouse. Deja wore instead many golden necklaces from the Rakian royal treasure, the metal was cold against her naked skin and led the eyes exactly where she wanted her husband's gaze to fall. She had her hair gathered up and falling down her back so that they would not cover her upper body and then, with her jewels jingling at every step she took, she went to dinner.
She abstained from looking in Zaron's direction knowing she already was blushing all over from the warmth she felt spreading from her burning ears to her chest. However it didn't escape her notice his chocked exclamation and the noise it made his cup when he knocked it over with a sudden movement of his arm. Kirsis, who was sitting at his side, protested aloud because he spilled his drink inside her plate, then she saw Deja and turned to her father, with an annoyed retort.
- Why auntie Deja can be without blouse and I can't? I'm not a little child anymore!
- You will not parade around without your blouse on and that's it.
Her father replayed without taking his eyes off his wife and more precisely from that part of her anatomy he had never had the occasion to see before. He gave a little pat to the dark haired head of his daughter without looking at her: if there was something he had no desire to see ever that was the naked breasts of one of his children. Zaron barely touched food at dinner, as a matter of fact he put his elbow inside his own plate, thinking of having placed it on the table. He kept on staring dazedly at Deja's breasts as if her chest was the north and his eyes a compass. Occasionally he was able to tear off his eyes to move his gaze to her permanently blushing face and so he caught her looking back at him. Her blue eyes were alight with desire, the pupils dilated, her cheeks were aflame and her ruby lips slightly open as she gasped for air. The tight grip he had on his waning control broke and Zaron jumped to his feet, offering his hand to Deja in a silent invitation. She stood up too leaving her meal half-unfinished and put her shaking hand on his. Zaron nearly dragged her to the harem exit but in front of the doors he halted with a frustrated growl: she couldn't emerge from the female wing for she was underdressed.
- Your rooms.
He uttered hoarsely.
- What?
She asked breathlessly.
- Can we go to your rooms?
Deja nodded frantically gripping his arm, pushing her breasts against the fabric of his shirt.
They entered her quartiers kissing and Deja detached herself from his lips only the time necessary to order her maids to go out because she wasn't going to need them till morning. Then they proceeded to the bedroom.
Zaron couldn't tear his eyes from the pale oval of her face and her light blue eyes that shine like jewels, like the sapphire she loved to wear so much. He laid her over the pale yellow silk sheet of her bed and then he crawled over her supine body, holding himself up to see her better. The rosy blush, as he already noted, reached her nipples. He took off her the necklaces carelessly, ripping off some of her hair and earning an annoyed hiss of pain from her but then he resumed his kissing and every objections on her part fell silent. His kiss begun light, a soft caress of his lips and even if it was nice and sweet, Deja wanted more. She gripped his head by his short clipped hair and drew him close firmly, opening her mouth and meeting his tongue. He smiled while she sighed happily. His hands begun to brush lightly her skin, her shoulders and upper arms, coming near her breasts and then moving away. Deja was shaking in anticipation and when her husband's hands came finally in contact with her breasts, skin on skin, it was an epiphany: it was fierce feeling, not comparable to when he touched her through the fabric of her dress. She whimpered when he tightened his grasp and then let out a horse cry when he brushed a nipple with his thumb. She thought there could be nothing better but then he took that same nipple in his mouth and gave it a light bite before starting to suck on it. Deja sobbed shaking her head against the pillow, it was too much, she never felt something like that, the growing tension was very similar to pain but when he stopped, she found it was even worse.
- Is everything alright, my dearest? Do you want me to stop?
Zaron's voice was trembling, he was trembling, Deja realized with surprise. She observed him: her husband's pupils were huge and his breathing laboured. He was staring at her breasts as if he had never seen before something so wonderful. It was exactly as she had always dreamed.
- Do not stop, I beg you…
He brought both his hands on her breasts and the one he wasn't sucking on, he caressed with his fingertips. It was an exquisite torture and Deja begun unconsciously to rub together her legs and to arch her back to offer herself better to his lips.
He rested his head against her chest and placed his hands lightly over her waist.
- Can I?
He croaked against her skin.
- Yes, yes!
Deja didn't know what he wanted but whatever it was she was sure it would be alright for him to have. She felt dizzy for the pleasure and unable to reason but she trusted him, implicitly: he didn't need to ask permission.
Slowly he undid her silk belt that was holding up her skirt and tried to pull it out.
- Lift your hips my dearest.
She did as he asked and helped him to take the skirt off her by pushing it down her legs with her feet and found herself breathless because, as she divest herself of her skirt he had took off his shirt, remaining bare chested in front of her. However she had no time to admire his exposed skin because he laid over her, causing their naked torsos to touch without any fabric between them, and had resumed his kissing and biting. Unable to articulate anything less than moans, Deja felt none of the embarrassment she would have felt at being nearly naked in front of him. She was keeping her hands wrapped around his nape, keeping him close, and when he put a hand on her inner thigh, she spread her legs without hesitation, conscious of the pleasure he would soon bestow on her. He didn't fail to deliver and with few skilful movement he made her incoherent. When she reached the peak and fell Zaron was there to catch her, sealing her mouth with a kiss.
The following morning Zaron went back to his rooms holding his head high but feeling on his person the focus of five pair of curious eyes. Eyes that had scrutinized his clothes, wrinkled as if he had slept on them. Once he exited the harem the owners of those eyes settled to wait patiently for the queen. Deja came out of her rooms later that morning, her expression was satisfied and her cheeks rosy.
- Well?
Cara asked point-blank. Deja observed the five women staring at her.
- Well what?
She asked back haughtily and trying to suppress her blushing.
- Well did you do it or not?
Tallia clarified leeringly.
- No, we slept with our clothes on.
The queen answered annoyed and a chorus of groans greeted her answer. Deja turned to Tallia covering her embarrassment with peevishness.
- Can I know why the exact nature of my most intimate relationship with my husband does interest you so much?
- Your lack of s…
Tallia begun to replay just to be cut off by Pearl.
- We are just worried Deja: we want you both to be happy and like everybody else in the kingdom, we wish for an heir.
- Next time you take the initiative and get stark naked, perhaps this way you'll have more luck.
Tallia concluded, staring down Pearl. This time it was Deja who groaned exasperatedly. Perhaps the other woman was right, after all her advice about the blouse did work.
Deja begun to forgone the blouse in the harem every time Zaron would dine with them instead of have his dinner in his rooms with a concubine. When it happened he would always end up spending the night with his wife in her rooms. The emperor had become good at resisting utill the end of the meal but when the time came to get up and retire with one of his women came, he would inevitably turn to Deja and offer her his hand.
However the queen had been unable to overcome her shyness and undress completely in front of him. One late evening Tallia barged unexpectedly in her bedroom.
- Tonight is my turn.
She said without even greeting her. Deja was already in her nightgown and was in the process of getting into bed.
- Do you want your husband or not?
The girl nodded with wide eyes because she didn't understand. The concubine flung her veil on a chair.
- Look close: you do it this way.
In a quick movement she gripped with both hands the hem of her trousers and skirt and lowered them both at the same time, baring herself totally. Deja cried out, shocked, and then she diverted her eyes in embarrassment.
- See? It's easy: one movement and it's done.
Then she tossed the clothes she took off to Deja.
- Put them on, wear my veil and go to him.
She stared at her, open mouthed and unbelieving.
- Come on!
The older woman pressed her. Deja jumped to her feet and took off the nightgown, blushing because she was undressing in front of Tallia and moreover because she would be wearing the other woman's dress. In the meantime Tallia had put on one of Deja's dressing gown.
- You're higher than me but not much so. If you keep your arms crossed so that they don't stick out of the veil, you'll see: nobody will notice the difference.
Shaking all over Deja covered the short distance between the harem and Zaron's apartments, extremely conscious of the fact she was effectively naked underneath the thick veil. She entered her husband waiting room and carried on to the bedroom. Zaron was waiting for her bare-chested. He looked her way fleetingly, recognizing the dress.
- Tallia…
He begun and then he stopped, stiffening because the woman wearing Tallia's dress was too high to be his concubine. Deja took off the veil quickly.
- Deja! What…?
Before losing the nerve, she closed her eyes and with clumsy hands she repeated what Tallia did. She got utterly naked in front of him, Tallia's anklets and bracelets the only things on her. She was breathing heavily and when she braved a look at Zaron she saw that was the same for him.
- Deja…
He breathed while his gaze caressed her body. With her heart beating madly in her chest, she move towards him meeting his lips searching for hers. He caught her by her waist and turned her causing her to fall down on the bed. He laid over her, kissing her passionately and letting out a hoarse moan full of longing. Zaron caressed her round shoulder and grasped her breasts, mindful of never ending up between her legs, for the temptation of losing himself in that welcoming body that seemed to invite him was just too much to resist to. It was too early still, it wasn't time yet.
When she had undressed herself under his eyes, arousal threatened to overwhelm him. She was… perfect in every aspect. So different from every other, so unique. His hands had trembled from the urge to touch her and he had become painfully hard at the idea of entering her body. Laying over her he had realized how easy it would have been: all he had to do was move a little, lower his trousers and Deja, her trust in him complete, would have opened herself to him who would have been able to thrust in her in one fast push, giving relief to the desire burning inside him. It would have been so easy, and vile, and Zaron rejected that wicked impulse effortlessly. He limit himself to kiss her with passion and caress the skin his hands already mapped while he regained control of himself.
His mouth went down, sucking and biting her neck, urged on by his wife's moans that become keener the more he neared her soft breasts and the pink nipples. He lingered on them at length until she grew restless and started to buck under him. Only then, reverently and slowly, he allowed himself the privilege to touch her for the first time without any obstruction between them.
She was silky and damp and shouted out, arching her back and lifting from the mattress at his first caress. A sort of frenzy took hold of Zaron at that sight: he must, must, give her the pleasure she had so boldly came to search for in his bed. She found it but Zaron didn't stop, he couldn't stop, if he did then the danger was to give up to the temptation burning in his veins, the one screaming at him to take her while she was still dizzy from the pleasure. Therefore he began anew to kiss her and lick her breasts to give her time to catch her breath. Once she stated to moan softly again, Zaron caressed lightly her inner thighs, struggling for a moment asking himself if going lower still or not. Then he came to a decision and abandoned her breasts to go down, gripping her hips firmly. When she realized what his face was close to, she tried to shut her legs but Zaron was already between them and forced her to keep them open with his hands. She seized him by his short hair.
- What…?
- Hush, don't be scared…
He whispered, kissing a leg.
- Trust me.
And she did, relaxing the stained limbs only to tensing up again when she felt his breath against her most intimate place and jerking when he tasted her for the first time. She was exquisite and begun to moan sweetly. Zaron pushed one of her legs up and over his shoulder so she could put her feet on his back. He remained in that position a long time, licking unhurriedly, sometime gazing up to her red face and her expression of delighted surprise. When she came again it was quietly and Zaron didn't even realized it until she pushed him away sobbing and shaking her head. He worried having hurt her and so he lifted himself up, drawing near her face to look her more closely but she didn't give him the time to ask, because she kissed him ferociously. Their kissing slowed down and became deeper and Deja's breath caught in her throat when she recognized Zaron's tongue movements against her own as the same he performed when he had kissed her between her legs. She hugged him more closely, lifting from the sheets to make their bodies fit together, naked hers, still dressed his. Zaron took it as an invitation to start again his pleasurable torture and Deja, for a long time, was left unable to articulate her thoughts and only breathy moans and passion filled screams left her lips.
When Zaron felt finally satisfied and let her rest, his wife was breathless, sweaty and the delicate skin of her inner thighs was red where his short day-beard had rubbed against it. She was nearly unable to see straight but she had to ask, she had to know.
- Why Zaron?
He kissed languidly, caressing her forms.
- Why what my dearest?
- Why do you refuse to take me? I have offered myself in every way by now and… do not get me wrong, I like what you do, I like it very much but…
He smiled against her breast, giving it a light bite that manage to distract her for a moment.
- But why do you never finish what we start? You do not gain any pleasure from laying with me, you give but you never take!
Zaron sighed and put his head to rest against her chest refusing to meet her eyes.
- I'm getting there Deja.
He whispered.
- Be patient and trust me.
- Yes, but when? When?
She asked with a voice filled by heart wrenching desire.
- At Issa.
He answered, catching her by surprise.
- What?
She replayed in a shrill tone, thinking of the bed they had shared so many times, the one where she had been conceived and her mother had died.
- Think about it.
Zaron had said sombrely lifting his face and looking at her.
- It will be your fist time. If you'll bleed it will be impossible to hide and here in Halanda impossible to justify unless you'll want me to look like a monster, an abusive husband. At Issa it will be easier, even if equally unjustifiable: we stay there only for some days every year.
Then he kissed her, drowning out her complaints and give her pleasure again in spite of her exhaustion and soon after she had been asleep.
When in the morning she went back to the harem, Tallia ambushed her at the doors and dragged her to her room.
- Well?
She asked full of expectations. Deja shook her head in denial but her expression was triumphant.
- Not this time, but I will not be a virgin anymore at my next birthday.
She said with assurance and the concubine had laughed.
The queen waited patiently but now that she knew how it was to be cloth-less under her husband had refused to go back and she started to undress every time they would spend the night together, biding the time untill her birthday.
Deja's birthday was approaching when she discovered they weren't going to Issa with the aerostat as usual. Zaron told her matter of fact that they would travel by land and by sea, accompanied by an armed escort that seemed more a little army and a lot less an honour royal guard. Deja didn't manage to change his mind and therefore she resigned herself to a nearly fifteen days trip and to sleep in a tent because he wanted to be quick and travel light and unpredictable.
Not that the royal pavilion was uncomfortable, the queen ascertained once it was assembled: it was huge and there were five rooms with silk made walls. The servants put together a bed over which many mattress were unrolled and where she slept, wrapped tightly in her husband's arms.
He ordered her to be as silent as possible and stifled her moans with kisses and for the first time he … put something inside her. The sensation of something alien trying to penetrate her caught her unprepared and frightened her because it hurt and she had wiggled to escape his embrace with a whimper of distress but he trapped her with his bulk.
- Hush, don't squirm my dearest. I'm doing this so it doesn't hurt more later on. It's only a finger.
Deja trembled: it was strange, but he kept on kissing and caressing her so tenderly and soon she become incoherent with pleasure. Only then he started to move slowly at the beginning and then faster, like it was looking for something and when he found it Deja had arched her back, blinded by the pleasure and her husband had to put his other hand on her mouth to smother her scream.
They did it every night until they reached Issa and after that first time it didn't bother Deja anymore, actually she begun to push against Zaron's hand and trap it with her thighs once he was done because she liked the sensation of having him inside.
Once they arrived to her birth city she had been nervous and her worried father asked her what was troubling her and Deja had been absent-minded and evasive, her mind and heart already in the royal bedchambers and the bed where she was going to finally lose her virginity.
As evening drew near she fell prey of a nervous energy that was due more to the excitement at the approaching of an occurrence she had waited for a very long time than fear of the unknown. Unable to contain her agitation she asked Anka to visit so she could confide with her. Her friend had paled and then blushed, looking at Deja with a mixture of horror and envy. She had still to find a man of her liking and kept on rejecting every suitor but she longed for the kind of love she saw shining in the queen's eyes.
At dinner Deja found difficult to eat, she couldn't divert her sight from Zaron, not even to look at her own plate and the silverwares clinked as her hands shook. She was nervous and it showed, he noticed it and with a kind tone of voice he told her they could wait same more, that there was no hurry.
- Do you not dare!
She nearly growled.
- This night you will be mine and I will be yours. Do not even try to change my mind now.
Zaron didn't smile as she expected him to do, his expression filled with desire and he left his dinner unfinished, offering her his hand, palm up, inviting her to follow him to the bedroom. Deja put her trembling fingers over his and only then realized he was trembling too.
He kissed her for a long time, as he undressed her slowly, without the haste she could feel growing inside.
- Take it slow, my dearest. Enjoy the moment…
He whispered warmly, scattering kisses along her neck and shoulders. Then he took off his shirt, baring his chest and encouraging her to touch him. For the first time she caressed that muscled chest, playing with the light black hair growing there and Zaron groaned and put his forehead against hers, closing his eyes. He took her hands into his own and guided them to the hem of his trousers.
- The choice is yours, my dearest. I won't be disappointed if you decide to wait some more and remember…
He put emphasis on the last word.
- In any moment, if you want me to stop, for any reason… tell me and I'll stop immediately. I won't take it as a rejection.
Deja had never to undress anybody before and she found difficult to untie the belt holding up her husband trousers, so much that he had to help her out. Curious and at the same time nervous, she pushed the cloth down, stilling completely at the sight of her husband nude body. She observed him, unable to divert her eyes from that part of his anatomy so greatly different from her, from that unknown organ previously felt only through their clothes and that was now at hand, literally. She was attracted and intimidated by it and reached out with a shaking hand to touch it. Zaron chocked back a shout and gripped her shoulders, like he needed a support to keep standing. Deja shoot him a quick look.
- Am I hurting you?
- No!
Came his breathless answer.
- No, keep going…
Deja realized he must be finding her caress as pleasant as his caresses were for her. With a wonder-filled smile she let her fingertips run along his length as she caressed his side with her other hand. Everything in him was so… beautiful: strong and kind at the same time. She understood that part of him was to fit inside her, she could see it was a lot bigger than the fingers he used up to that moment and she felt grateful for his previous care. She wasn't afraid, she was happy, so happy that her husband was soon to be hers, finally, completely.
Zaron placed a hand over Deja's, halting her exploration.
- Enough my dearest, you'll continue next time, or I'll finish before we start.
She didn't grasp the meaning of his words but choose to trust him and let him guide her in everything that night. She put her hands on his wide shoulders and kissed him with growing passion, pushing her body against his, marvelling at the pleasure that simple act gave her. The sensation of his hard and warm skin against hers was extraordinary. He had already embraced her while shirtless when she had been naked, but like this it was different, she felt his hardness push against her, insinuating itself between her closed thighs and she moaned needy and desperate, she wouldn't have been able to even say what was that she wanted, but she needed it. He took a step back and took her in his arms, separating their lips but for an instant. He carried her with extreme care over the bed and laid her over it, covering her body with his own supporting his weight with hands and knees. Deja tried to hook his hips with her legs but he pushed them away.
- Let… let me do it.
Then he begun to kiss her neck, biting and sucking at it until it was covered in red marks, causing her to moan. He gripped her breasts, bowing to kiss them too while his other hand went down and caressed her gently between her legs, inserting a finger and starting to move it slowly. Deja was moaning and arching her back, pushing rhythmically against his hand, she jerked but then she moaned even harder when he added another finger. It didn't take her long to reach the peak but her satisfied sight was cut short by a hiss of pain. She opened her eyes wide and looked down to see what he was doing to cause her distress: he was stretching her painfully. She seized his wrist, complaining.
- I know my dearest, I'm sorry.
He whispered against her forehead.
- But it has to be done.
Then he retired his hand and positioned himself between her open legs. With an arm Zaron sustained himself while with his other hand he guided himself inside her and Deja felt suddenly scared, an irrational and animal fear that made her whimper in fright and wriggled trying to retreat and escape him.
Zaron stilled, trembling.
- Deja… Deja look at me.
She did, losing herself into his dark eyes.
- Do you want me to stop, my sweet? I will if you want me to, you don't have to be afraid…
She read the desire on his face, in spite of the grimace of discomfort. He would stop if she asked him to, even if he wanted to keep going. She shook her head in denial, unable to speak. She was nervous but she didn't want him to stop, not when the thing she had longed for in the last years was finally within her reach: her husband, inside her body, lost in her. She threw her arms around her neck and kissed him with her eyes closed, relaxing and becoming plaint beneath him.
Zaron started to push slowly and Deja hold on him, trembling and hiding her face between his neck and shoulder and squeezing her eyes tightly, holding back the tears. It hurt in spite of the care he used in preparing her and the tenderness he was employing as he breached her.
- I'm sorry… I'm sorry…
He repeated against her hair, conscious of the tears damping his skin.
She would have wanted to tell him it didn't matter, that it was alright, but she feared to start to sob if she opened her mouth and therefore she opted to kiss wherever she could reach with her lips, his neck and shoulder, to make him understand he could carry on.
In the end she let out a groan of pain, when he gave a little push, making their hips touch, like a clever mechanism that found perfection in the joining. He stayed still but for a light trembling shaking him. Deja forgot the pain, amazed by being one thing with him, finally. The tears springing from her eyelashes came from her hear singing the love she felt for him, an irrepressible feeling she must give an outlet to.
- I love you Zaron, I love you…
He moaned softly, a sound never heard before. He lifted his face to look at her. His eyes were shiny like he was holding back tears of his own, his pupils were dilated and his lips ajar.
- Deja…
He kissed her and begun to move unhurriedly in and out of her. After the first thrusts Deja got used to the strange and new feeling of having him inside so deeply and relaxed starting to even found it nice. Above all she liked to look at Zaron, at his face and eyes drunk with passion. She caressed his back, hugging him with her legs. He moaned and repeated her name as if it was the only think he was able to say and when, shaken by tremors, he stilled over her, buried deep inside, she smiled radiantly at him and kissed him, full of happiness.
Zaron retreated from her slowly and then he rained kisses over her face.
- I'm sorry for hurting you…
He told her full of regret.
- I love you.
He didn't repeated her words of love but looked at her with eyes full of feelings and Deja chose to read in them the same tender feeling she expressed. The hurt for that sentence he would never tell her pierced her for a moment, lodging deep inside her soul, but then he kissed her with such tenderness she forgot everything else. Zaron laid at her side drawing her on his chest and holding her tightly, kissing her once more. Deja clung to him with her arms and legs, their naked bodies wrapped around each other. She breathed in his scent and caressed his damp skin, deciding to not acknowledge the blood staining the sheets.
- I love you…
She repeated alternating her declarations with kisses, pouring out of her chest the heart wrenching feeling she felt inside, hoping her love would be enough for the both of them. She got what she yearned for: her husband even if only his body and not his heart. It was a bittersweet victory.
She fell asleep draped over his chest, lulled by his breathing and his fingers brushing lightly her face and tangled hair.
On the contrary Zaron found himself unable to sleep, his thoughts were troubled and he was absent-minding kissing her pale forehead. He couldn't fathom how different it had been with Deja, more intense and satisfying than when he laid with his concubines. Perhaps it had been her complete trust, perhaps the love behind her every act but Zaron had been deeply moved by the experience and he had shared tears along with her when their bodies become one.
His queen, his wife, his little darling. He hugged her close and was amazed of how she had ended up there, how far they had come together, where her love brought them. How different their marriage could have been! If she had been less well-disposed toward him, less ready to give him a chance.
The pretty child he dragged in tears from her father's arms in a violent act become a self-assured little girl who knew what she wanted and lastly a young woman who had stubbornly expressed her love for him, pushing and prodding him until he had faced his fears and his feelings. He had been forced to look inside himself and he hadn't liked what he found there; he tried to discourage her, showing her his less than nice side and the bloodthirsty facet of his character but she didn't give up, didn't give him up: looking straight into the raging beast she welcomed it with open arms and eyes full of love. And the dragon calmed down, letting the maiden pet its scaly back like a loyal dog.
Deja was his most prized treasure, she was more precious to him than his own life and he couldn't any more imagine his existence without her by his side and from that night onward, in his bed. Now that he had her he couldn't go back to his concubines, not after having tasted his wife's passionate embrace. For a long time he had pictured Deja every time he was with one of his concubine and now that he knew how it was to have the original the illusion wasn't going to be enough anymore. He wanted only her, her eyes, her smiling lips, those freckles he had counted many times with his lips and he could map by memory, her scent, her hair, her moans and the warmth of her skin. Her sense of humour, her revolutionary ideas, everything about her charmed him and chained him to her and he was happily her willing captive.
For a long time he considered himself a jealous dragon guarding his treasure but now he realized she had put a golden chain around his heart and she was holding firmly the lash. The chain was called love and her hand was light because with a smile she had offered her own heart as a token.
The following morning Deja had been woken up by her husband kisses and those words she had in vain longed to hear from him. She hugged him tight, crying tears of joy and answering every Zaron's I-love-you with a kiss.
EPILOGUE.
Darrilla that morning woke up with a smile on her lips and stretching happily: it was the first day of summer and there wasn't any lessons at the Academy. A day of total rest followed by a night of celebrations and dancing to greet the warmest season.
She put aside the thought of the party she was going to along with her friend Maye and where she hoped to meet Garriv, the Rakian student she had set her sight on. Garriv was a very nice boy, with dark skin and darker eyes and a blinding white smile able to make her heart beat madly.
She was determinate to spent the day by the beach to work on her tan. Darrilla had a Rakian grandfather therefore her skin, instead of burning red like Maye's, become golden when she tanned.
The girl took off her pyjamas and collected from her closet a pair of comfortable bottle green trousers she would be able to roll up to her knees and a light tunic the same colour of the trousers, sleeveless and with a deep neckline to let the sun kiss the skin of the top of her breasts and a brown belt. She looked herself in the mirror to make sure everything fell alright and that the hem of the tunic reached her mid-thighs as it should. She looked into her light blue eyes, the same as her father's and shook her long black hair, plaited by a lady down the street for few coins in many little braids closed by colourful beads. Maye had a page cut but Darrilla was happy she resisted the fashion and refused to cut her glorious hair short.
- I'm going out!
She shouted as she passed through the living room.
- Don't you want to have breakfast?
Her father asked, his mouth full of her mother's sweet smelling homemade biscuits.
- No time!
However she come back and put in her mouth one of those wonderful sweets and to take an apple from the fruit basket.
- See you for lunch!
She tried to say with her mouth full, weaving at her mother who was coming from the kitchen with two steaming cups, one filled with bitter kaf and one with tea.
She went down the few steps of the entrance and collected from where she left it the previous evening, the trunk of a nearby tree, her bicycle then she put the apple inside her backpack and strapped it on. She then drove her bicycle along the streets of Issa. At that hour of the morning, since it was a holyday, there were few people around and Darrilla was happy because she despised the motor vehicles that in the last years had begun to fill the streets and that made the air sting with its bad-smelling fumes.
She rode fast along the narrows alleys, risking running over the scarce pedestrians who would shout insults after her. Deja laughed and rode faster, her blood was pumping in her veins from the exertion and the sea-smelling morning breeze brushed her red face. She passed through the Empress Plaza like a bolt, weaving jokingly at the golden bronze sculpture of Empress Deja that gave the name to the square. The sculpture stood high on a white marble base where the name of the last Issian queen was craved and she was portrayed wearing the Issian crown, her eternally young face serene and turned toward Est and the Emperor Gate, on her right palm she hold an acorn, the emblem of her rule.
Outside the city walls she slowed down mostly because the paving road become less so. Instead of proceeding along the Imperial Road she turned right, across the fields and then she get off the bicycle to travel by foot the last part of her journey, a simple path in the high grass leading to the cliff. She abandoned her bicycle behind a blackberry bush and climbed down the narrow slope to the pebbly beach at its feet, using the big stones along the way down to help her descent.
She was sweating once she reached the bottom, let her back pack fall on the pebbles and lifted her arms, stretching her back. She took off her sandals, rolled up the trousers and with a yell she jumped into the sea, kicking at the incoming waves feeling happy and childish. She splashed cool and clean water everywhere before going back to her backpack and removing from it a blanket. She laid down and opened her arms wide to embrace the sun, then she rolled on her belly and took from the backpack a book she has been reading and that she planned to finish that day.
Mid-morning she threw herself on the blanked face up after taking a stroll on the beach walking in the water and eating her apple. She finished her book a little before midday and stopped to stare at the clear sky with her arms folded behind the head. At the Academy she was taking the lessons of Economic History of professor Garfinda and the professor herself suggested her students to read that book to understand better the historical period they were studying. It wasn't only educational, it was also such a romantic story! The marriage of queen Deja with emperor Zaron the Dragon had been the scandal of the century. Darrilla made a grimace at the thought of marrying so young, and yet it happened at the time. What began as a cold political marriage evolved into a marriage of love and that teased her romantic side. Of course the imperial couple had had their problems and their terrible tragedies. Their first born son died at three years of age for a sudden illness but their second born son, emperor Malyasun the Just, had been a great emperor, enlightened and universally loved by his subjects, king of Issa and at the same time khan of Rakon, he had permanently unified the two kingdoms and brought the empire forged by his father to its longest period of cultural and economic growth. He had been very close to his mother and he often visited her at Issa where she moved to after the death of her husband to which she survived for twenty-five years. At emperor Zaron's death the queen abdicated from the Issian throne making of her son the first to hold both crowns and the new emperor nominated her the Issian governor as long as she lived. When she died at eighty-five years of age her body had been transferred to Rakon with honour and buried, as she had wanted, along her husband's inside the imperial mausoleum, to share eternity with him.
Realizing from the sun position in the sky it was time for lunch, something her stomach informed her of quite noisily, Darrilla picked up her things, among them the leather bound book she just finished "Emperor Zaron and queen Deja: the quiet revolution. By Oscia Kalijif", then she climbed up the slope and returned home.
THE END
AN:
* strong enough to strangle a bull bare-handed: I couldn't resist… It is from the "Lysistrata" by Aristophanes. It is what the Athenian woman says to the Spartan one. She intended it as an insult but it is said as if it is a praise. While women should be pretty and feminine from the Athenian woman point of view, from the Spartan people point of view only a strong women would bear strong sons therefore strength was more important than beauty. It's to say that physical strength has nothing to do with gender nor sexual inclination.
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