An Eerie Discovery

Rhysann leaned back slightly with his head still inclined as his piercing gaze met hers.

"What is it?" he asked softly, his voice a low murmur.

Aria shook her head once with trembling lips.

"I can't—"

She swallowed hard, her voice inaudible.

"I don't feel comfortable doing this... Being here with you, Rhysann. Your kind took me from my family and brought me here against my will. I... have witnessed what might be a glimpse of the horrors my people go through as slaves to yours. And now, I am expected to become your mate too." she paused, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I can't just accept you because there's a mark on my arm that gives you some...strange claim over me. I'm sorry, but I don't want this tie to you."

She moved away from him and picked up the white cloth, her movements quick and tense as she tied it around her right arm with a shaky hand, while Rhysann observed in silence.

"Aria..." he called softly, trying to hold her arm again but she refused him immediately.

"No...! Rhysann, please," she uttered, slightly raising her voice.

Noticing that she was becoming defensive again, he hesitated, unsure of how to proceed.

"I'll be in the slaves' quarters. I have to make sure my people are alright."

Aria hurriedly walked to the door and flung it open, exiting the chamber quickly. The door slammed shut behind her, leaving a heavy silence in its wake.

As Aria walked down the stretched hallway, heading back to the quarters to find Constance, she veered onto a different path and walked through it for a while. Eventually, it dawned on her that she might be lost. The hallways were disorienting and endless, with identical doors on each side that made it difficult to discern where she was.

The hallways were cold due to the stone walls and floor, and the flickering lampstands did nothing to provide some warmth. Then, she took another turn where the path was narrower and slightly darker. Along the walls hung large portraits, depicting what appeared to be past royals of Scalethorne.

Curious, Aria moved closer to the left to examine the portraits. She moved from one to the next and after a while, she noticed a strange similarity amongst all the past royals in the paintings.

They all appeared to be young, seemingly in their early to late twenties. There was not a single image of an older king or queen. Aria found this odd.

She knew that the dragonborns had the natural ability to retain their youthful appearance far longer than humans, but there had to be at least one older ruler.

Beneath each portrait were small onyx stone tablets engraved with basic information about the ruler; names, birth year and month, the years they ruled, spouses, offspring and the date of their deaths. It was carved with gold on the stone.

"King Malphirius... born 1820... Month Volcaris (June)... Ruled from 1836 to 1851... Died at age thirty-one? Spouse—Queen Zeryn... Offspring—Prince Drakaris and... Prince Rhysann?!"

Rhysann had a brother?!

Aria's eyes widened as she read through the information inscribed on the black stone. It seemed to be the most recent amongst the others. Malphirius, Rhysann's father, had become king of the dragonborns in 1836. She quickly did the math. He was only sixteen years old. Why did he become king at such a young age?

The fact that he died at just thirty-one was even more disturbing. Was he killed? It seemed likely. But as Aria checked the previous rulers before him, she noticed that many had died around the same age, or even younger. Most had passed on at thirty and thirty-one. Only a handful of kings reached thirty-two or thirty-three. One of the oldest monarchs who reigned in the 1600s had died at thirty-five, making him the only one to live more than others.

Aria returned to Rhysann's family stone tablet. If Rhysann had a brother, where was he now and what had happened to him? Had he died...? Or! Had Rhysann killed him to become king?!

Her jaw dropped at the possibility.

It couldn't be. Rhysann had mentioned earlier that he was made king against his will, so he couldn't have killed his brother. The mystery of the Dragonborn royalty gnawed at her, but as she stood there in wonder, she heard a faint thud and quickly walked away.

***

Rhysann's visage was etched with a frown of displeasure when Nessie came to inform him about the twelve elders.

"Why have they come here?" He uttered with a deep sigh.

Nessie stood by the entrance, her hands on her hips as he watched him.

"Did you forget...?"

Rhysann lifted his gaze as the thought hit him. It saddened him even more and he rose from the bed's edge, his gaze darkening.

"I didn't," he muttered softly, moving toward his wardrobe to find something appropriate to wear. Nessie glanced around the chamber for a brief moment.

"By the way, where's that little slave of yours?"

Rhysann stood still for a brief moment, his jaw clenched, before turning to face her.

"That's none of your business. Now, I'd appreciate it if you left," he said, his tone firm.

Nessie noticed the sternness in his voice and her blood-red lips curved into a slight smile.

"You know, dearest cousin, if I didn't know any better, I think you have a tinsy, tiny soft spot for that little slave."

Rhysann's gaze hardened, but she wasn't intimidated by him at all.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Nessie. As you said, she's a slave, and nothing more. Perhaps you're imagining things. Now leave—"

"Not so fast, Rhysann." Nessie cut him off almost immediately. "I have a favor to ask of you."

She walked closer towards him, her hips swaying suggestively as she did.

"It's a shame that you're dying without a mate, or an heir to carry on your father's— my dear uncle's legacy," she uttered softly, feigning sadness.

Rhysann pivotated to face her, his gaze narrowing as his eyes blazed with annoyance. He hated this subject being brought up. It felt almost like mockery to him.

"Not that I'm not sad or anything; don't get me wrong. I am deeply hurt and devastated. Truly..." She gently placed her hand on his strong arm, covered in intricate dark blue markings that symbolized his draconic powers.

"What exactly are you trying to say?!" Rhysann uttered sharply in frustration.

"I want you to give me the blue Dragonfire."