Dream of Dragons

Loren to an arm chair by the mantle. “This is not my preferred battleground, but it must do. Please watch from here, my lady. Now… Have at thee, brigand!”
The Warmaster and Spymaster fought, dueling with the ornamental swords. Their sweeping motions were grand, slow and exaggerated, as their princess looked on with eyes wide in wonder, one hand steadily passing from the bag of candies to her mouth. Sairus lunged forward with his sword held straight. In an actual battle, Sairus would never perform this move. It left his guard wide open, and without a shield he was even more vulnerable. But out of the corner of his eye, he saw the little princess gasp in awe. Isran batted aside Sairus’s sword easily and closed the distance with an equally dramatic sweep of his own.
The two continued on, threatening each other with exaggerated, flowery language, till they became too engrossed in their play fight, and how familiar it was to the time when they were boys, scraping by on the streets of Aldoran. Warmaster Sairus struck down Isran, toppling the human over onto his backside, and leveled his sword at Isran’s chest. “You’ve been defeated, you miserable cur. Surrender!”
A steady stream of applause sounded from behind the two masters. They had expected one pair of hands clapping, in little, excited strokes, but there was another. Sairus looked behind him, while Isran scrambled to his feet. Sitting at the armchair with her daughter in her lap, was the queen. She laughed at the display, and let her daughter hop down.
“I wasn’t expecting this from you, Sairus.” The queen said with a smile. “Come now, don’t bow so low. It was entertaining. I can see where my daughter runs off to when she’s late for her tutor.”
The Warmaster kneeled and kept his head low, burning with embarrassment. “I beg your pardon, Your Grace. I don’t usually-“
Queen Katarina stood, the fabric of her blue and gold gown falling gracefully to her sides. “It is as I said, Sairus. It was entertaining. And Loren did love it. Get up, Warmaster, don’t be so mortified. It was all in good fun. Come now, I can’t have my Warmaster and Spymaster missing when I attend court.”
“Court!” Isran said, suddenly remembering something. He bowed low and apologetic before the queen. “My queen, I meant to tell you at court, but I was sidetracked. You and the king have a visitor for today.”
“Who is it? Is it Gaturr of the Beastmen? I had been hoping he would visit for some time.”
“No, Your Grace. He’s come a long way, from the far side of the Kilrough Mountains. Aerius Dagan, King of Sagna.”
The queen’s brows furrowed in thought. “Aerius Dagan? The last time I saw him, I was a young girl, as old as Loren. What is he doing here?”
“I don’t know, Your Grace. He seeks an audience, but for what, I don’t know. A young girl travels with him, I think she is his daughter.”
“Well, we’ll have to see what he wants.” Queen Katarina sighed, and beckoned Loren closer. “To court then, masters. I told Jorrne to wait for us there while I went to find Loren.”
The throne room was crowded. Guards stood at every pillar, fully armored, with their gauntlet clad hands clenched around sword hilts and halberds. A view of the sea could be seen from the high windows, with light glittering on the waves. Somewhere far on those waves, a dragon roared as it spiraled upwards into the sky.
Two thrones stood atop a small dais. carved out of the core of an ancient oak, said to have grown at the Eye of the World, or so Katarina’s father used to say. Once she inherited the throne, the queen didn’t much care for the origins of furniture, as long as they served their intended purpose. King Jorrne was already seated at his throne when his queen arrived and saw in the throne beside him, while the Warmaster and Spymaster took up positions on either side of the dais alongside the other advisers, the Trademaster and Spellmaster. Loren had her own seat, close to the masters. The heavy double doors of the throne room swung open, and a servant announced the arrival of the King of Sagna.
Aerius Dagan walked down the length of the throne room, stopping respectfully at the base of the dais. He looked to King Jorrne, then to Queen Katarina, and inclined his head. Beside him stood a young girl; the princess Haedria. Her silk gown in the reds and blacks of Sagna had no sleeves, and showed the pale skin of her arms that bore swirling, dark markings. She did not bow or even look at the rulers of Aldoran. Instead, her sharp eyes found Loren in the crowd. The princess of Sagna stared at the princess of Aldoran, and smiled. The dark markings on her skin began to softly glow like gently stoked coals.
Loren stared back, confused and uncomfortable. While King Aerius spoke to King Jorrne and Queen Katarina, Loren leaned over to tug the sleeve of the Spellmaster. He was the oldest of the court’s advisers, but had a handsome, unlined face. His long beard was dyed a different color every week, and was kept tied in three braids.
“Spellmaster…” Loren started, finding it hard to tear her eyes away from Haedria’s strange markings.
The Spellmaster knew immediately what the little princess wanted to ask. He bent lower to her, and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Those are mage markings, my lady. Those who are born with a swirl of darkness upon their skin are blessed – or cursed – with magic. The more markings a mage has, the stronger their magic. Mine are here.” He pulled up the sleeve of his robe, and showed Loren his forearm. Running down the Spellmaster’s arm were swirls of dark markings, lying dormant.
Loren frowned as she thought.