HERA
My younger brother hasn’t always been my only sibling.
Before they died in the attack on our village, I used to be the first born of four children.
I had two younger sisters and we were born with barely a moon’s harvest between each of us.
So in the years when my father was alive and we had enough to eat and little to nothing worrying our tiny little hearts, we would play in the large lush grounds surrounding our manor.
We would play house, sneaking out my mother’s cookery pots to make and occasionally eat little mud cakes and bowls of sandy flower soup.
We would run around, skinning our knees and ignoring our mother’s warnings as we played catch and sunflower hop.
And when my brother grew old enough to run around with us we would go on great, far off adventures to find buried treasure in our garden.
But our favorite game of them all had been playing royalty.
My brother would always be the prince, even when he could barely speak.
But my sisters and I on the other hand, would argue for hours on who got to be the queen; never princess, always queen.
More often than not, I am partly ashamed to say, I would win these screaming matches and my siblings would grudgingly place the crown of roses we had made on my head.
They would announce me before I entered a room, holding my dress behind me as I walked, bowing and rushing to do my every biding for the entire afternoon.
Being queen was the highlight of my play times.
I would relish the feeling of having subjects beneath me willingly to do my every bidding even as they gave me stink eyes and threatened to tell papa on me.
And in my little heart I would wish to all the gods I knew and the ones I didn’t that one day I would wake up and be a real queen, not with a crown of roses but one of pure gold.
For the Hera who had barely seen eight moon harvests, nothing could have made me happier.
How foolish I had been.
As I stand in the great hall of the dragon realm, looking out with wide, shaky eyes, staring at all the dragonkin of the castle bowing before me, I want to go back to the days when I used to be happy and shake the younger me until she ceased her foolish wishes and prayers to gods unseen.
She had no idea what she was asking for.
I chew on my lip furiously, unsure of what next to do.
I know bursting into tears or nervous, hysterical laughter would definitely be the wrong decision but that is all I want to do.
Then the warmth of a large hand encloses mine, anchoring me to the ground until I no longer want to run screaming and inadvertently reminding me that this was the price I had to pay to save my life.
I glance up at him and he nods; an imperceptible, barely there movement of his head but one that helps still my racing heart.
I let go of the breath I do not even realize I am holding.
Gods above do not let my voice fail me now.
He lets go of my hand and I look out towards the people who have remained in their position.
“You may all rise.”
Now that my heart is calm and I have had a moment to collect my hysteria I see that there are not as many people as I had initially thought and I raise my head in an effort to hide how unsure I am feeling and appear more in control of my emotions.
They may be stronger and bigger, faster and more intelligent.
They may have taken everything away from me and my people but they would never have the satisfaction of seeing me weak.
I raise my voice an octave higher and it carries across the room, echoing in the quiet stillness of the great hall.
“I am Hera. Once princess of the human kingdom of Averia and now wife to King Midas the immortal. I am Consort to the throne of the 5th realm, Lady of the castle that sits on dragon’s mount and from this moment on… your queen.”
Before I can worry that I have perhaps said too much, Midas steps up beside me.
“I, King Midas of the dragon realm have decided this and if any of the inhabitants of my castle wish to show their displeasure at my decision do so now for if after this night I should chance upon or get wind of any sort of conferring or whisperings in disregard or disrespect to the queen, I shall treat the perpetuators as traitors to the throne”
No one stirs, no one murmurs, yet to my nervous ears, the unnerving stillness that seems to have settled over the hall is much worse.
The dragonkin who serve in the castle are clearly displeased but no one is willingly to risk the dragon king’s wrath by opposing his decision yet it is obvious in the way they cast furtive glance at one another that the news of a human queen is not one that falls pleasantly on their ears.
Their displeasure both frightens and pleases me.
Why should they be happy when my realm has been in turmoil for so long on account of their King?
As long as the truth of my identity remains a secret, their approval and acceptance mattered little to me.
So let them murmur all they want.
Three men step out from the crowd and my brows crease in a frown.
Surely they wouldn’t dare...
The men are weathered and small which is strange because as far as I know, dragonkin are never small.
Despite their bent over and wrinkled appearance, there is something ancient and powerful in the way they walk yet the keen brightness of their eyes is that of those half their age.
The only thing is the eyes though bright are a cloudy grey, almost like all three men are blind.
Yet they do not seem to have an difficulty stepping forward or looking directly at us.
A chill runs down my spine.
They all have bushy, white beards hiding the lower half of their wrinkled faces and they each carry finely carved wooden staffs.
All three men bow low.
And to my greatest surprise, Midas inclines his head in a gesture of respect.
I am unconscious of the way my brows draw together in confusion.
Who are these men and why does the ruler of the 5th realm bow to them.
“Dragon King.” They call out in unison.
Midas gaze is unchanging and when he responds his tone is flat yet filled with the quiet authority of one who knows he is in charge.
“King makers”
The one in the middle is the one who speaks next.
He appears to be the oldest and has the longest beard of all three men.
It flows white and curly to the centre of his round belly and curves slightly upward at the tail end.
As he speaks he strokes it…once… twice…stopping abruptly in the middle of the third stroke.
“You dragon king are the representative of the fire gods who rule over the affairs of our realm and your decisions echo their wishes.”
The one to his left speaks next. “And as the oldest of the castle’s inhabitants, we know that while we may not always understand them…”
The third one completes the sentence. “…far be it from us to question them.”
Their voices all sound the same. A low, slightly unnerving roughness that sets my teeth on edge and makes me want to clear my throat.
The one in the middle is speaking again “So on behalf of all who serve and are loyal to the dragon throne…”
He bows and the rest of the castle bows with him.
“…May your reign be long and wise oh queen.”
Midas straightens to his full height, somehow standing even taller than he already is.
“So let it be written, so let it be done.”