Chapter Text
A long time ago, in a land long lost to time itself, two deities promised to unite their peoples after centuries of war. They crafted the perfect leader, a draconic warrior who would be the uniter of dragon and humankind, of fire and water, night and day, with bones of mountain stone and flesh of river clay; they used the sea breeze to inflate banana-leaf lungs and desert heat to warm her heart. The dragon, at first, fulfilled the deities' promise, uniting the peoples of the land under her and creating a thriving continent that was the jewel of the world. Of course, like all good things, the continent didn’t last.
The dragon-warrior fell in love and begged her deities to let her be with a common man, upsetting many of her fellow rulers. They plotted behind her back, even as her deities granted her wish. The other rulers killed the dragon-warrior’s lover and drove her mad with grief. The dragon-warrior killed all she suspected of being involved with the loss of her love, including those who were not involved. In doing so, she turned the people she once united against her, sparking the beginnings of a dangerous rebellion that still lurks in the dark corners of the world today. Eventually, the dragon-warrior succumbed to her grief and disappeared into the caverns under the castle.
The last surviving member of the rulers, who had escaped the dragon-warrior’s grief through betraying the same rulers he once plotted with, took over the castle and built a new ruling class, loyal only to him, and used the mad dragon-warrior to keep his new people in line. The rebellion came to be in the depths of the continent, the hardest places to reach in each territory, hiding behind wealth and poverty alike as the cruelness of the past two rulers hardened and impoverished the once loving and prospering people.
Soon, almost all hope in a bright or even decent future died, and even the two deities despaired, unable to find a solution for the consequences of their actions. However, before the deities decided to destroy their once favored kingdom and start over, hidden in the deepest recesses of the castle’s caverns, they found a nest containing a single egg. The two deities sent two human women, a mother and a barren woman, a Healer and a Witch, to steal the egg and raise it away from the schemes of the castle. Legend has it that the egg hatched, and the child will one day do what their mother could not, unite the continent under one ruler and create a world full of peace and love.
Of course, that is just a story for children not to lose hope in their grim reality, nothing more than a mother making shadow puppets dancing on the half-collapsed wall of a family home, the children watching in blissful ignorance as their father watches at the door with his bow drawn. Now, in this new, bleak age, the gilded past is a nostalgic fantasy that none but the bravest of fools believe in.
Now the sun slowly slipped behind the horizon, a perfect, shining moment fading into a darkening shadow creeping over the land. In the golden light, two young adults, a boy and a girl, lay on the side of the hill, their heads next to each other and their feet facing the opposite direction. Tear tracks reflect off of hollow cheeks, eyes red after hours of crying.
“I just can’t believe this is actually happening,” the boy said quietly, his voice hoarse. “It sounded like a dream, when Mother first told me of it, but now, I don’t know if I can do this.”
“You can,” the girl responded, her voice equally rough, “You and I both know that you were always made for more than our sleepy little village.” They lapsed into silence again, the spring breeze ruffling the fur lining their coats.
The boy cleared his throat before speaking again, “I guess I just thought the mountain pass would thaw slower. I just- I’m not ready to leave.”
The girl reached up and tapped the boy’s shoulder until he took the proffered hand, tangling their fingers together. “Pallain,” the girl stated, her voice calm but fresh tears rolling down her face, betraying her true emotions, “You know that if you waited until you were ready, the day would never come. You know that it’s better this way, you have less time to talk yourself out of this.”
Pallain swallowed deeply, a solitary tear tracing down his cheek. “Are you sure you won’t come,” He started, his next words leaving him in a rush, “We could get married, then no one could separate us, and we could take lovers. It’s foolproof-”
“Pallain,” the girl started, her voice firm against his spiraling panic, “I have one last set of vows to take, and then I am a fully-fledged Herbmistress. I’m not giving that up for something neither of us wants.” Her voice shook at the end.
Pallain squeezed her hand, his eyes mirroring the movement. “I know you’re right, but I just-”
“I know,” the girl murmured.
“Drakka-”
The girl, Drakka, let go and rolled onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows. “Pallain, I know . I’ll be ok. You’ll be ok. As much as it hurts, this is for the best.” The pair moved to sit on folded legs, facing each other. Drakka took her best friend’s hands in hers. “You’re suffocating here. I’m thriving. That’s why you are going, and I am staying. We promised to never get in the way of each other, and I’m not going to break my promise, not over your happiness. You go to the city, and you remember me as you become who you’re meant to be and live your life. I’ll stay here and do the same.”
“I won’t forget you,” Pallain said fiercely. “I won’t. And when I take over my uncle’s forge, I’ll send you the finest of my work.”
Drakka gave him a tear-stained smile. “And when I develop a cure for the spring cough, you’ll be the first person to have it.”
Pallain smiled, but it was more of a grimace. “Can we sleep in the barn? Just one last time, I don’t want to leave your side until I have to.”
“I’d like nothing more.”
The pair helped each other up and crept through the moonlight into Pallain’s family’s barn, where they fell asleep holding each other tucked away in the hay, as they once did as children, one last stolen, precious moment before they lost each other forever.
Drakka and Pallain had long since gone from Drakka and Pallain to Drakka-and-Pallain, to DrakkaandPallain, the pair inseparable since they first spoke fifteen years ago. They had done everything together, the two outcasts of the village children, Drakka for looking different and being the apprentice to the local Herbmistress, and Pallain for not being like the other boys. If there was trouble, they were the two that took the fall for it, no matter if they were there or not. Of course, Drakka’s status as the next village Herbmistress quickly got them right out of any trouble they didn’t cause, no one wanting a grudge to cost them a harvest or a family member.
The next morning came too soon, the tentative spring sun sending fragile tendrils of dawn into the night until the sun hung pale gold in the sky. The Guide Pallain’s uncle sent to fetch him had arrived with the sun, and waited on his horse, unmoving as Drakka helped Pallain saddle his horse in the yard, the family watching as if in vigil, mourning a son lost not to death, but to distance. They fastened the buckles in silence, attached packs and saddle bags without making eye contact, caught between going slow to delay the inevitable or just getting it over with. Pallain's mother frowned at Drakka the entire time, one of Pallain's younger sisters clinging to his mother's skirts as another sister followed after Drakka with star-struck eyes. Finally, the horse stood ready to go, and there was nothing else to do but leave.
Pallain hugged his mother and kissed her temple before giving each of his four younger sisters a quick spin, just as they always beg him to do. Pallain’s older brother and sister had both come from their own families to say goodbye, clasping their younger brother tightly and whispering well-wishes in his ear. The only person left was Drakka, who took his hands in hers and leaned their foreheads against each other, murmuring the traveler’s blessing, her voice shaking and tears rolling down her face. Pallain pulled her into an embrace, both of them crying.
Pallain leaned back, trying to smile through the hurt. "You be careful. Don't do anything too stupid, I won't be here to cover for you."
Drakka sniffed before responding, "More like you won't be here to pull me into trouble."
They hugged one last time, both pulling the other as close as possible, breathing in their familiar scents before they changed forever, tangling hands in each other's hair and memorizing the little things about each other. "I have to go," Pallain said softly.”
“I know,” Drakka whispered, her voice thin.
“We’ll be ok,” Pallain murmured before he let go and swung up onto his horse.
Drakka reached up and took his hand. "Be safe. Until death do us part?"
Pallain leaned down to kiss her hand, Drakka laughing a little at the gesture. "Until death does us part." He let go of Drakka's hand and waved to his family before snapping his reins and crying, "G-yup." His horse started plodding away just as he began to cry, the Guide turning his horse to lead Pallain to his future. Drakka didn't follow him, even as she felt her heartstrings stretch tight, knowing he wouldn’t want that. Pallain's siblings tried to follow them but quickly grew bored of doing so and raced back to their mother.
Pallain's mother, Ana, and older siblings, Darrow and Sarah, hadn’t gotten along with Drakka or her teacher ever since it became clear that the other children shunned Pallain for his friendship with Drakka, but the four of them still stood together and watched Pallain disappear around the bend in the road.
Not long after the older siblings had returned to their daily life, Ana placed a hesitant hand on Drakka's shoulder. "It's good that he's leaving. He would have been unhappy here."
Drakka's eyes didn't waver from where her friend had disappeared. "I know."
Ana gently turned Drakka away from the road to face her. "You will be unhappy here without him."
"I know."
Pallain's blue eyes narrowed on someone else's face. "Then follow him."
"You know I can't."
Ana let go and walked back to her house, stating over her shoulder, "Fate has strange ways of bringing people together."
Drakka looked at Ana skeptically but didn't say anything. The young Herbmistress-in-training headed home, feeling strangely empty and exhausted, despite not doing any of her usual tasks that day. She half expected Pallain to be sitting on the hill, a stupid grin on his face and an even more stupid plan for the day. Of course, he wasn't, and he would never be again. She had seen him for the last time this morning, the breadth of his shoulders shaking ever so slightly as he disappeared forever.
Altha, Drakka’s teacher and adoptive mother, waited for her with a cup of chamomile tea and a warm hug, letting Drakka cry on the older woman's shoulder. "It'll be ok,” the Herbmistress whispered, “It will stop hurting soon enough."
"He's gone ."
"He is.”
Altha didn't make Drakka do her lessons that day, she just sent the young woman off to bed and let her be, knowing that Drakka would be incapable of anything that day.
And the next.
And the next.
And the day after that.
Drakka barely ate or spoke until a letter from Pallain’s uncle arrived three weeks later, letting the family and her know that the boy had arrived safely and had settled in as well as could be expected. Pallain had also sent small wooden carvings for his younger siblings and for Drakka, whittled statues from the woods on his way to Comburgh. Drakka carefully held the carving so her tears couldn't fall on it, brushing her fingers where the wood wasn’t entirely smooth. She placed the carving on the small shelf over her bed.
"Oh, he made it safely." Altha said when she saw what Drakka was holding, the life in the young woman's eyes was quite hard to miss- especially after it had been missing for so long.
"Yes,” Drakka murmured, not looking up from the small carving, "He's alive and safe in the city. His uncle sent word"
Altha nodded once, stating. “We’ll return to your studies in the morning,” before she disappeared off into the woods.