Draka Chapter 352: Understand (Patreon)

“Before anyone says anything, I want to make it clear that I’m not comfortable with this,” Tam said. “Not at all. The idea of anyone willingly giving away their freedom like this— giving up their ability to even want to be free— because that’s what this is, isn’t it?” He looked around, his eyes pleading with us to tell him that he was wrong. He wasn’t. “Yeah,” he said when no one spoke up. “I’m not comfortable with anyone giving someone that kind of power over them. Even when that someone is you, Draka. And especially not when it’s my sisters, or my friends.”

Then he sagged where he sat, and Val pulled him closer, taking Tam’s hand with the one not wrapped around his waist. “That said,” Tam continued, “it’s your lives. It’s your freedom. Trying to tell you what to do with them… I won’t say it’s as bad, but it would be kind of two-faced, wouldn’t it? So all I can do is tell you how I feel, and remind you, Draka, that if I ever suspect that you’re abusing them in any way—”

“I wouldn’t,” I told him. “I swear that I wouldn’t. It goes both ways, you know that. I don’t think I could even consider it.”

In response he nodded at me, small, sad, and serious, and said, “I want so very much to believe that.”

“It is very much in your favor that you’ve given them this choice,” Val added. “While I’m also uncomfortable with the situation, it is still preferable to the involuntary servitude of before.” He turned to address the others in the room with sad fondness. “Like my love said, it’s your lives. Your freedom. If any of you truly believe that this is the way for you to achieve happiness and contentment, then it is not for us to tell you that you are wrong. We only ask that you swear that you have all thought it through thoroughly these past ten days.”

“Not that much to think about, really,” Ardek said, picking awkwardly at his short trousers. “Or, well, that’s not true. Had to think a lot about how it affects everyone else, I suppose. But for me, how I feel about it, I mean… I remember what it was like before and after you got me, Draka, and before and after you freed me, and it wasn’t that hard a choice in the end.”

“It was harder for me,” Kira added. She was leaning into Ardek’s shoulder, not looking at anyone, and spoke in an embarrassed mumble like she was confessing something. “I had not been free for years already when Draka… I don’t know. Does it sound strange if I say that she rescued me?” She looked around, and when no one objected, she continued. “I was scared at first. You remember. But then, once the magic took hold, it was easy. And then I was free again. Fully. So it was hard to decide.” Then she turned her head, just a little, to look at me out of the corner of her eye for a moment before looking away again. “But I’ve decided.”

“I thought it would be an easy decision,” Herald said, looking at me softly. “I love you, Draka, and you have given us so much. I only gave it any real thought because you asked me to. But you did ask, and I owed it to you to take your request seriously. I have spent hours upon hours analyzing my memories of how I thought and felt the six months that I was completely yours, compared to before we met and during the three months since you freed me, and…”

What I felt when she looked at me then… the closest thing I could compare it to was my last moment as a human. That immeasurably short sliver of time when my hand slipped, and hope and triumph turned to utter despair and horror.

“I am sorry, Draka,” she whispered. “I have to decline your offer. And I hope with all my heart that you will see it for the declaration of my trust in you that it is. I know how much you wanted me to say yes. The realization that I have to say no hurt me more than I want to tell you, because I know how much you love me, and saying it… telling you, to your face like this, is infinitely worse. But I cannot accept. Looking back, I can see clearly the kinds of mental contortions I had to go through just to tell you that I did not think something was a good idea. How I kept silent about my desires because I feared they might cause you any kind of inconvenience or distress, despite knowing that you would want me to follow my heart. And having seen that… Draka, for both of our sakes, for my happiness and for me to be an effective advisor to you, I have to be the mistress of my own mind. Fully, and without constraint.”

“Yeah,” I managed to croak. I’d turned my eyes to stare at the center of the ceiling at some point, and I couldn’t tear them away from the unused hook there, where a lantern might hang. I didn't know what to say. In the part of my mind where I should be piecing together a reply there was just an awful, stunned blankness, like I’d hit my head—or like I’d been hit with a hammer. But I’d never been one to remain silent for long, and in the absence of any direction from the brain, my mouth went on autopilot. “Yeah, nah, yeah,” it said. “I get it. Sure. Yeah. No worries. I know you love me. Never doubted it. I’m, ah… I’m disappointed. Can’t say I’m not. You can all tell. But this won’t change a thing, yeah? You’ve been… like you said, it’s been three months, right? And it’s been fine. Totally fine. We’ll just go on like we have been and it’ll be totally fine.”

“Draka…” she pleaded.

“I’m fine,” I whispered. “It’s fine. I’ll be fine. As long as I know that you’re sure and that you’re happy with your decision, I’ll be fine. You’re not going anywhere, I'm not going anywhere—”

As my mouth continued moving, completely detached from any conscious thought, I saw Ardek turn his head to whisper into Kira’s ear. I couldn’t hear him, but I caught Kira’s answer, a hissed “Yes!” as she clapped her hand over his mouth, and her heartbroken glance toward me.

“But I don’t think she understood us!” Ardek said through her hand. The words were indistinct and muffled, and he’d been keeping his voice low to start with, but even through my continued babbling I heard. And he was right. When he and Kira explained how easy and hard their decisions had been, I hadn’t understood what they were telling me. It hadn't occurred to me that they might be declining. That I’d— I knew that I hadn’t lost them. The fact that they took the time to explain themselves, and the way they’d spoken and looked at me, told me that they worried about how their decisions would affect me.

There had been no fear in either of them. Not a bit. Only concern. Concern for me, and how I’d feel. They didn’t want to hurt me. But they knew that they would, and they hated it. Not because they feared that I might become angry or retaliate in some way, but because they genuinely cared about my happiness. Just like Herald did.

I had to cling to that. I hadn’t lost them in any way that truly mattered. Herald was still my sister and best friend. Kira and Ardek were still my… I wasn’t entirely sure. Employees whom I had an incredibly amicable relationship with? Friends who worked for me? Whatever. The important thing was, that wouldn’t change. They’d just be able to tell me to piss off if I did something awful to them, and that was a good thing.

But the dragon in me didn’t understand that. It felt like it had been robbed. Not by them. Never by them. But by some great and terrible thief that I could never find, never mind tear limb from limb the way they deserved for depriving me of such valued servants.

The dragon in me didn’t understand that someone could be loyal, trustworthy, and absolutely invaluable without being its property. And so, despite them all sitting there, right in front of me, looking at me with guilt and sympathy, it wailed and raged as though it had lost them forever.

The dragon was only part of me. But it was a large part, and its pain was too big. It was too much.

At some point I’d fallen silent. I couldn’t say when. Herald looked like she might cry, and wasn’t sure if she should comfort me or flee. So instead she sat, her back straight, absolutely still on the crate she’d chosen for her seat.

But Mak sat close enough to me to touch, and now she reached out to scratch around my broken horn. She may not have been connected to me anymore, but she knew what I looked like when I was spiraling, and how I loved any kind of physical affection. “It’s okay, Draka. It’s okay,” she said. “You’re right. We’re not going anywhere. Least of all me.” As she kept scratching, slowly bringing at least part of my attention back from the pit into where it had gone, she told the others, “I told her my answer before we even came here. I’m going to do it.”

At her announcement, Tam sagged. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I know you’ve been worrying more—”

“I’ve been at my limit, only holding on because I knew what falling apart would do to everyone I love,” Mak corrected him gently. “Tam. Look at me. Listen. The past ten days have been some of the worst of my life. I barely sleep. I barely eat. I’ve been keeping constantly busy, because when I’m not, when my mind isn’t occupied, I’m nauseous with anxiety over everything that might go wrong. And while my body can probably keep going forever, thanks to Draka, my mind can’t. I ran, Tam. I ran, not to Terdam but from here. I left you all. And then, when that only made things better for a few short days, I ran again, to the forest this time. And being away from the city was good, but it wasn’t until I made up my mind to accept Draka’s offer that I felt a moment of real peace.”

“No, I get that, but—”

“No, Tam. Listen. Please.” Mak had stood, and walked the few steps it took to put her hands on our brother’s shoulders. She stood there, silent, until he looked at her and nodded. “Thank you,” she said softly. “Tam, all my life, since the day Father took ill, I’ve been scared. Scared of failing. Scared of not being enough. Scared of just not being there when I was needed. It’s not rational. I know that. There’s something inside me that’s broken. It’s like… like there’s a voice that, whenever I look at something I love, screams at me how easily I might lose it. Always there, never completely silent, poisoning even the happiest moments. Then Draka came along, and… what happened, happened. And I found that in her service, that voice lost its power, and finally disappeared completely. The fear, the crushing sense of impossible responsibility, they were gone. I could finally focus on the good things in my life. My love for you all. My pride in all we’ve done. Things that had always been there, that I could never truly enjoy. Please understand, Tam. I’ve always loved you. I’ve always been so incredibly proud of you. But I was never truly happy, until Draka made the voice go away. And now it’s back. The moment she broke the bond between us it came back, louder than ever, screaming that of course she’d discarded me, because I don’t deserve to be happy. Do you understand?”

He looked up at her then, with so much sorrow that it almost broke my heart. It wasn’t betrayal that I saw in his face, but the pain and confusion of a child who’s just learned that the most important woman in his life is only human. “You never told us,” he whispered. “I knew you were hurting, sometimes. Of course you were. But why didn’t you ever tell us it was that bad?”

“Oh, Tam,” she said, wrapping one arm around his back and the other around his head, then pulling him to her chest. “Sometimes there’s nothing more frightening than the idea that the people close to you might find out that you’re afraid. You should know that better than anyone.”

“You don’t sound scared,” he murmured.

“And yet the voice is there, even now. It’s telling me that at any moment now Draka’s going to change her mind, or you all are somehow going to stop her from taking me. But fear loses a lot of its power when you know that you won’t have to endure it for long. That’s why I’ve been at peace these past few hours. I know that soon, all this fear will just be a bad memory, and I’ll be able to just love you all and be happy again. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah.” Tam’s response was just above a whisper. I barely heard him, but I wasn’t supposed to; it was meant only for Mak. The rest of us may as well not have existed as his arms tightened around her back. The embrace lasted for a long, silent time, during which no one interrupted. Kira and Ardek held each other. Val rested his hand supportively on Tam’s waist. And Herald, after a few awkward glances, moved to the floor beside me, where she draped one arm over my neck and relaxed into my scales. But no one spoke. Not until Tam’s arms tightened even further for just a moment before releasing Mak, and he said, “Okay. I understand. I wish— but I understand.” 

“Thank you,” Mak said into the top of his head, voice muffled a little by his hair. Then she, too, let go, though she left her hand on his shoulder as she turned half around to face me. “Well, Draka,” she said, her voice heavy with meaning. Not urgent or upset in any way—she knew I’d listen, so she spoke softly. Gently, even. “You have my answer. I can't bear the thought of delaying any longer. Shall we?”

“Yeah,” I answered immediately, no thinking necessary. Her words entered my ears, and my reply came without any higher brain functions needing to inconvenience themselves. “Not here. The mountain. Grab something warm, yeah? Some blankets or something. Maybe a waterskin and—”

“I have my pack ready to go,” she said, then turned to the others. “Thank you all for doing this. And thank you, Tam, for questioning, for listening, and for understanding. But I don't think you should see what comes next. I don't expect I’ll enjoy it.”

“And you’re completely sure?” Tam asked one final time.

“As sure as I am of my love for you,” she said. And that, to them, was as definitive of an answer as anyone could give. They didn't question her decision again.

“I’ll bring her back in the morning,” I promised them. “Noon, at the latest.”

“Come on,” Mak told them. “Let’s get my pack. Draka, I’ll see you on the square.”

Herald stayed draped over my neck as the others left. No one questioned it. When it was just us she whispered, “Is it okay? That I cannot— you know I love you, no matter what, right?”

I probably took too long to answer. Her fingers started running nervously up and down my neck, nails clicking rapidly over my scales, before I finally said, “It hurts. From what you said before, I’d just assumed that you’d want— so yeah. It hurts. But I don’t blame you. I don’t hold it against you. I don’t love you any less. I know that I have no right—”

The words caught in my throat, and I gave off a deep, huffing sigh, slumping to the floor completely. I wasn’t even sure which of us I was trying to reassure: her, me, or both of us. “It should have never happened in the first place,” I finished lamely.

Herald took as long to answer as I had, but by the way her stroking changed from nervously raking her nails over my scales to something more deliberate, firm enough for me to really feel it, I knew that I’d at least done something to soothe her. “You are right,” she said after what might have been half a minute’s thought. “It never should have happened. But I do not regret it. Not for a second. I just cannot… It was wonderful. I hope you know that. It was truly wonderful, being your thrall. Every word Mak said… I never knew how deep her anxieties ran, and I am ashamed of that, but I understand her completely. There was such peace in just letting you lead. In knowing that as long as I focused on pleasing you, everything would be right in the world. But I cannot willingly return to that. You understand? I cannot submit.”

Ah, yes. That, I could understand. “Of course you can’t,” I whispered fondly. “You’re my little dragon. And dragons do not submit.”

“Except to their mothers,” she added graciously.

“Obviously.”

“So, we— we are still—”

“We’re still sisters,” I said, craning my neck around so I could look at her with one eye, at least. “And we’re still best friends. I love you, Herald. That won’t change.”

“Thank the Mercies for that,” she sighed, her arms wrapping around my neck.

It wasn’t long after that before Tam opened the upstairs door and said, “Draka? She’s ready.”

“Go,” Herald said, giving me a parting squeeze. “With what she is giving you, it would not do to keep her waiting.”