THE DRAGON QUEEN

[esotericas 1561]

 

It was a night to be remembered, that enough was sure.

 

-

 

“Ea found many friends among unfamiliar faces. More, indeed, than ea might usually have found.”

 

The Dragon Queen’s own voice rung in her ears as the clamor and chaos of the masquerade swelled around her. The weight of her mask against her face laid as both a heavy burden, and as the greatest freedom she had known. She had received no orders. No distasteful glares, no requests for tea. For one singular night, she had been a queen. Drifting across the candlelit ballroom, her silken wings trailing behind her, the Dragon Queen had for the first time in her life been free.

 

“Vy do niet have many friends? One of the perks of wearing another's face for the evening, ea suppose.”

 

“Ah, niet unmasked, nie.” The Dragon Queen briefly removes her mask, giving only the woman before her a glimpse at the face hidden behind. “It am quite a gift to become.. One with a group ea previously viewed from afar, da?”

 

The Dragon Queen replaced her mask before her partner in conversation could draw too much attention to her face, and swallowed back the lump in her throat. She knew that she would never be able to scrub the mud of the Karosgrad streets off her boots. It could be hidden, yes, behind gowns and scarves and gilded masks, but the mud remained. A pauper in the clothing of first a servant, then a governess. A lady’s maid, a palace handmaiden, then the assistant to a Duke. And, for one golden evening, a queen in her own right.

 

“Ea hardly recognised vy.”

 

“Yam well-trained, mea lady. Ea simply do niet often have access to ve world ea walk in tonight.”

 

-

 

It was strange, the Dragon Queen thought, to be in the light. To have men ask for her dances, not for another glass of whiskey. 

 

For just a moment, she allowed herself to wonder if perhaps she could return someday.

 

“A shame.” Her tone softened. “For vy look terribly pretty.”

 

But no. Her muddy boots would never be clean. She could cover them and cover them, but in the end, the golden mask was just a mask, and The Dragon Queen was a bedtime story she had heard as a child.

 

“Well.. Nie matter how wealthy, how educated, how prim ag proper ea am, ea will never be one of them.”

 

Agnieszka wondered what her dance partners would think. Would Aelia, the flower, still look on their dance with fondness? The Red Wolf, who had matched her golden tongue with a silver one of his own? And even the Fool, with whom she had so pleasantly joked? Would they still see her as a queen? Elegant, poised, with a quick wit and a knack for dancing?

 

She knew the answer.

 

-

 

 “Ea am similar, in some respects. Tasting a different sort of life, this evening.”

 

Agnieszka did not know wether to cry or laugh.

 

“Mea lady.. Vyr attempts at sampling ve life of those below vy will never compare to ve struggles we face. Yam one of ve lucky ones, who am niet forced into… night work.. to feed meinself ag mea family.”
“It am honorable of vy to try.”

 

“Ea suppose vy are right, ea… ea am very fortunate. Ea know.”

 

“Vy am fortunate, da. Ea simply wish everyone was afforded ve same fortunes as vy.”

 

The queen - the real one, for it was Emma Karenina under the mask, fluttered away to rest, and Agnieszka was left standing in the middle of the ballroom, her bones filled with lead, while the rest of the room continued to swirl with music and dancing and laughter. The night, she realized, was over.

She had her night. She was beautiful, for just a moment. Something more than a girl to run errands or to do the washing. Something to be desired. For one, beautiful, golden evening, Agnieszka had shone.

 

-

 

The late-night air was cold on the half-dry tears still streaking Agnieszka’s cheeks as she strode out of the palace, her mask now at her side. For, truly, a mask removed could never be replaced.

[Borin 5264]

bishop viktor goes to prepare a pyre for the dragon person

[Jentos 6895]

 

"Who."

 

Intoned a nephillim with a third, flickering eye.