The Divine Tears: Crestfallen

IV

He woke with a sweaty face, wiping his forehead. He looked over to his left—the princess, unmoved and sleeping peacefully. He pushed himself up and went to pour wine into a glistening gem cup, only drinking wine for the taste and the burning sensation at the back of his throat. He sat down on a cushioned chair. The moon's reflection shimmered on the ocean below the cliffs, with a handful of guarding ships, flickering with brightly lit lanterns.

She woke. She felt the cold side of the bed. She walked over; her arms flung over his shoulders.

'The dreams again?' she whispered.

He grunted in confirmation, even though he had not told her the full truth of his haunting dreams, now nearly a full year since the trial of fears.

'I thought they'd be gone by now,' she kissed his cheek.

'So have I,' he said, brushing his long locks from his face.

She gathered his hair in her hands. 'Your hair has gotten long. They're on their way to surpass mine.'

She fetched her pair of bronze scissors from her cluttered dressing table.

'May I cut your hair?' she asked softly beside his ear, a soothing voice the dragon was unable to resist.

He nodded, presenting a minuscule smile.

As she cut his hair, she hummed an old song her mother used to sing to her before bed. Her voice was smooth, one would expect her to be a bard with the voice she possessed, but her songs were only for those whom she loved. With the colourful echoes of her lullaby, flashes of his dreams became distant. For some time, the flicks of the scissors wisped passed his ears, slow like the waves they looked upon, being certain that her beloved was calm.

His hair was cut to below his ears, wetted with water she gracefully applied. Her not-so-long nails dug through his hair, fondling his scalp with the twist of her fingers.

'See,' she said, 'now you don't look like a woman.'

He huffed amusingly.

'Come back to bed, my love,' she whispered in his ear, 'we've got a long day tomorrow.'

She led him back to her bed. Her head rested on his chest as they both drifted away, where his dreams took an interim slumber.

When the sun peeked through the glass balcony doors, he gave her a kiss on her cheek as she slept, and snuck back to his own chambers which he ever hardly slept in.

In his chambers, servants brought him boiled water which he bathed in. He packed some clothes, sharpened his swords, and shined his armour.

The princess let herself in. She had a lime-flowing dress on, she smelled clean and sweet of perfume.

He grinned at the princess' sight. 'Oh, come right in, please,' he said sarcastically.

'Like you've ever had a reason to complain,' she said.

He packed the last of his armour in large leather bags. Servants rushed in. They took Daarion's bags to the wagons, two had to carry his heavy armour bag.

'Come,' she said, 'they're waiting for us. Though you might want to show your face to the others, they're in the hall.'

He went down to the hall, a time of youth rushed through his thoughts and a time where he obtained his constant haunting dreams of unanswered questions. Within the hall, a handful of echoes flourished about, Erwan—of course.

'All I'm saying is, Haxios,' Erwan exclaimed without shame, 'I could easily have my way with a mermaid, and it would be a perfect chance for me on this venture.'